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 BV 111924 074 962 279 
 
 SARAH LOUISE ARNOLD, 
 
 SvPERvisoR OF Schools, Boston, Mass.i 
 
 AND 
 
 CHARLES B. GILBERT, 
 
 SVPBRINTENDENT OF ScHOOLS, NeWARK, N.J. 
 
 91 3Elealjer for g^tjctf) ([^ratieg 
 
 SILVER. BURDETT AND COMPANY, 
 New York . . BOSTON CHiCAca 
 
Copyright, 18SV, 
 
 8s SUVBR, BUROBTT AND CoMPANV 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THIS series of books is designed to meet in particular two educa- 
 tional needs: Jirst, reading books containing better literature 
 than the average Reader contains ; second, books adapted to the modern 
 graded school. The ordinary series of Readers consists of five or six 
 books, — the first three being composed of made matter, put together 
 upon the theory that children can read only selections containing 
 certain words. The remaining two or three books are composed 
 partly of original matter and partly of short, disconnected eelectiona 
 from standard authors, — many of these selections not being suited to 
 children of any age, and none of them being graded with reference 
 to adaptation of language or thought. 
 
 In the present series, its authors have aimed to include nothino' but 
 good literature, the greater part being selected from standard writers ; 
 and in so far as possible the selections are given entire as they came 
 from the writers' hands. In each book, beginning with the Fourth, 
 are to be found some selections of considerable length, both in prose 
 and poetry, complete as they were first published. 
 
 In those instances in which it has been found necessary to abbre- 
 viate articles, the authors have attempted to give complete chapters or 
 such other selections as constitute in themselves literary wholes, and 
 also to induce the pupils to read the entire books from which the 
 selections are taken. This suggestion is deemed very important. The 
 tendency of the day is to scrappy reading. It is fostered by news- 
 papers, periodicals, and compendia of literature; and it is hoped that 
 these Readers will help to combat this unfortunate tendency, and lead 
 to the reading of good books. 
 
vl PREFACE. 
 
 The second special feature of Stepping Stones to Literature 
 is their perfect adaptation to graded schools. The usual division of 
 the higher Readers of a series into Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth, is founded 
 upon no principle thus far discovered. This series consists of eight 
 bookS) one for each grade of the ordinary graded school system. It is 
 believed that this feature will be of great value. It simplifies the work 
 of the teacher,, and makes it possible to correlate the reading with the 
 other subjects in the school curriculum. 
 
 In the Fourth Book the child is given his first distinct introduction 
 to mythology. In the earlier books, fables and fairy stories have been 
 used, and there has been a little suggestion of mythology ; but in the 
 Fourth, myth and wonder — those subjects which appeal to the child's 
 imagination and carry him out of his limited environment into a larger 
 world — are emphasized. We believe that this is in accord with what- 
 ever truth exists in the culture epoch theory of education. 
 
 It also makes a suitable and natural introduction to the historical 
 matter, of which a greater proportion appears in the higher books. 
 The connection between this matter and that in the lower books is fur- 
 nished by two fables, " The Fox and the Cat" and " The Fox and the 
 Horse," and by such humorous poems as " That Calf " and " The Cow 
 and the Ass." These lead, on the one side, to the Nature readings both 
 in verse and prose ; on the other side, they lead directly to the myth, 
 and the myth introduces the child easily and naturally to history, — 
 the Hiawatha myth, for example, making an excellent introduction to 
 American history, and the Greek myth, to ancient history. The selec- 
 tion from " Aladdin " belongs to that class of purely imaginative 
 literature which all children read and enjoy. 
 
 In the Fifth Book the use of the myth which is found in the Fourth 
 is continued, but the myths here used are mainly historical, leading 
 directly to the study of history. Here is given an acquaintance with 
 the mythology of our Norse forefathers, and also with the semi-mytho- 
 logical literature of western Europe. This is followed by some selec- 
 tions of a more definitely historical character than any given in the 
 Fourth. The purely imaginative literature — as, for example, " The 
 King of the Golden River " — is of an order better adapted to the ad- 
 vancing age of the child, and has a more distinctly sesthetic and ethical 
 purpose. Nature readings are continued, and several selections of a 
 patriotic character are given as an introduction to the considerable 
 amount of reading of this class found in the Sixth and Seventh books. 
 
 In the Sixth Book the pure myth does not appear, but in its place 
 is much of history, especially of the legendary lore which appeals to 
 the developing imagination of the child, — such as the tales of ancient 
 Rome and Scott's poems 
 
PREFACE. vil 
 
 There is a large increase of matter which tends to stimulate patri- 
 otism, including particularly national songs. Here appear several 
 selections from that sort of literature which requires thought and 
 develops taste, such as " The Voyage to Lilliput." Here also are found 
 some appeals to the child's natural love of adventure and sports. The 
 ethical motive is plainly evident throughout this book. 
 
 The Seventh Book is made entirely of selections from American 
 authors. It is intended for the grade in which most stress is usually 
 laid upon the study of the history of the United States, and can very 
 appropriately be used in connection with this study. The literature 
 of a country cannot be separated from its history, and the natural 
 connection between these two should be emphasized in all study of 
 either. This book is especially rich in matter intimately connected 
 with history, and tending to stimulate patriotism. 
 
 Here, more than in some of the other books, selections have been 
 made from longer works, and it is hoped that the teachers will urge 
 the children to read the works entire. 
 
 The Eighth Book is made wholly from the writings of English 
 authors. In many schools the study of English history is introduced 
 in this grade. In such schools the selections here given will be found 
 appropriate. Even in those schools in which the history of England is 
 not specifically studied, it is of necessity studied incidentally in connec- 
 tion with the history of our own country, and a familiarity with the 
 writino'S of the best English authors is essential to a comprehension 
 of the. writings of our own. The selections here given, while especially 
 appropriate for use in connection with the study of history, are made 
 from standard authors, such as every intelligent boy and girl should read 
 for their own value. 
 
 The authors believe that if these Readers are used wisely, according 
 to the plan suggested, they will not' only help to make better readers 
 of the children of the schools, but will also aid in a wise correlation of 
 studies, will- cultivate taste, stimulate a love of good literature, and, 
 through literature, bring within reach of the children the choicest 
 treasures of the world. 
 
 The copyrighted material in this book is used by permission of and 
 by arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Roberts Brothers, 
 D. Appleton & Co., Little, Brown, & Co., Charles Scribner's Sons, The 
 Macmillan Company, George Barrie, and Elizabeth Harrison, — to all 
 of whom both the editor and the publishers express their cordial thanks 
 and appreciation. 
 
viii SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 THE purpose of this series of books is indicated by its name, 
 Stepping Stones to Literature. The aim of the authors 
 was to make the formalities of reading subordinate to its real end, 
 which is the acquisition of thought from the printed page. It is urged, 
 therefore, that you aim not first to teach children how to read, and then 
 incidentally to give them some acquaintance with good literature; but 
 that you seek primarily and chiefly to acquaint your pupils with litera^ 
 ture as such, and secondarily to teach them the technique of reading. 
 You will find, if you follow this plan, that not only will the first object 
 be gained, but that the children will learn the art of reading much 
 better than when the chief emphasis is placed upon this art. 
 
 In a book composed of good literature, words should be studied 
 only as they occur in the text, and as their study is necessary to an 
 understanding of the text. Such study is doubtless important, but 
 great care should be taken to prevent its interference with the real 
 object of reading, which is acquaintance with literature. 
 
 The study of literature should not be confused with the study of 
 the biographies of authors. Acquaintance with the lives and personal 
 traits of authors is often interesting, and frequently throws light upon 
 their writings, yet its value is but secondary at best; children, espe- 
 cially, should give their chief attention to the writings themselves. Let 
 them read freely and abundantly, until they become absorbed in their 
 reading. Do not interrupt them too frequently with criticisms. In 
 no case spoil a reading lesson by introducing the study of technique 
 for its own sake. Remember always that the ends to be secured are 
 a love for good literature and the storing of the mind with noble 
 ideals. 
 
 While the selections in this series of Readers are, in so far as possi- 
 ble, literary wholes, in many cases it has been necessary to abbreviate. 
 Sometimes chapters have been taken out of books, the chapters in 
 themselves constituting complete productions. In all cases of abbre- 
 viation, it is urged that the attention of the children be called to the 
 books from which the selections are made, and that they ^e advised to 
 read them entire. Lead the children to the use of the public library 
 through their reading lessons. 
 
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 Tlie ends above set forth, included in the term "the mastery of 
 books," are of course the real objects of all reading. They are secured 
 by what is known as silent reading, whereas the school reading lesson 
 consists in reading aloud. The object of the latter is twofold : first, 
 the making plain to the teacher that children are capable of mastering 
 books ; second, instruction in the art of oral reading. While this art 
 is not, as it is often treated, of primary importance, but wholly sec- 
 ondary, it is yet important, and should receive careful attention. 
 
 Good oral reading includes both intellectual and physical elements. 
 The first implies clear and sympathetic comprehension of the subject 
 matter, so that the reader is able to impart it to others as if it were 
 original with himself. The second involves a mastery of the various 
 physical organs used in reading. The common advice, " Read as if you 
 were talking," is correct if the pupil talks correctly, — that is, it covers 
 the first point, " sympathetic knowledge of the subject matter ; " but in 
 this country, where the voices and modes of speech are proverbially bad, 
 it does not cover the second. 
 
 First, then, be sure that the children understand what they are read- 
 ing. Try to secure their interest in it, and then expect them to read it 
 to you as if they were imparting fresh and valuable information. This 
 requires a thorough knowledge of the text and context, and the free 
 use of the dictionary and other reference books. The children should . 
 read their school reading lessons as they would read any book on any 
 occasion, because they are interested in what the book contains. 
 
 Second, see to it that the children become masters of those portions 
 of the body which are used in reading, so that when they comprehend 
 what they are reading, they can impart it to others in a natural, 
 pleasing, and lucid manner. Practically, the entire body is used in 
 good reading. Specifically, the points to be carefully observed are 
 carriage or position of the various parts of the body, proper breathing, 
 clear enunciation, correct pronunciation, and quality of voice. 
 
 1. Carriage. The body should be erect, so that a vertical line 
 passes through the ears, the shoulders, the hips, and the heels. This 
 position should not be stiff; but all the muscles should be free, so that 
 the various members can move gracefully and readily as may be 
 required. To secure this free'dom, calisthenic exercises are useful 
 
 2. Breathing. The breathing should be deep rather than super- 
 flpial. It is often well, before a reading lesson, to have the class stand 
 in correct position and draw in through their nostrils — not through 
 their mouths — as deep and as full breaths as they are capable of taking. 
 This exercise repeated several times will tend to produce good breath- 
 ing during the reading lesson. Children should be taught to breathe 
 through the nostrils, and to use the diaphragm and the muscles of tho 
 
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 abdomen in breathing even more than those of the chest. They should 
 be taught to take in new breaths before the supply of air is exhausted 
 to such a degree as to aiiect the voice. 
 
 3. Enunciation. Few children enunciate all sounds distinctly. 
 If you watch children carefully, you will find that some have difficulty 
 with vowels, others with consonants. Special drill exercises should be 
 given to classes to cover general deficiencies, and to individuals to meet 
 particular needs. 
 
 4. Correct Pronunciation. This is determined by the usage of 
 good authors. To avoid errors it is necessary to consult frequently 
 some standard dictionary, with which every class room should be 
 supplied. 
 
 5. The Quality of the Voice. Another consideration to which 
 it is necessary to give careful attention is the quality of the voice. It 
 is said that very few Americans have agreeable voices. This is a 
 serious national defect. No one who has felt the charm of a rich, 
 full, gentle voice needs to be told the importance of training the voices 
 of children. 
 
 Special attention should be given to timbre, pitch, and inflection. 
 Strive to cultivate in your children full, rich voices. In reading, give 
 careful heed to appropriateness of vocalization, — that is, see that the 
 children use the proper quality of tone and the right inflections to 
 express the feeling of what they are reading. Good reading is a beau- 
 tiful art, and cannot be secured by obedience to technical laws merely. 
 It can only be secured by constant watchfulness and care on the part of 
 both pupil and teacher. 
 
THE READING LESSON AND ITS USES. 
 
 THE READING LESSON AND ITS USES. 
 
 READING is the key of a school curriculum. It opens to the pupil 
 not only the treasures of literature, but also all that portion of 
 his education which he obtains through the use of books. Hence, the 
 importance of teaching it well, and from the right point of view, which 
 is that of its content. 
 
 Reading as an art gets its value not from itself, but from the use to 
 which it is put. 
 
 Through the reading lesson, the teacher Ij^s a wider opportunity for 
 influencing the child's life than through any other study. 
 
 First. She can make it a means for the better comprehension of the 
 other subjects of his curriculum. This is a simple, but practical and 
 important, use. 
 
 Many a failure in geography, history, and arithmetic is due to the 
 inability of the children to read understandingly the text-books upon 
 those subjects. 
 
 The teaching of reading should by no means be confined to the use 
 of School Readers. Every lesson employing a book should be a reading 
 lesson. The teacher should see to it that the pupils are able to read 
 the books they are required to use. They should often be asked to read 
 aloud in class from various text-books. 
 
 Not only so, but they should be led to trace out and see the relations 
 of the subject in hand to the other subjects of their school course, to 
 literature^ and to life. Excursions should be made continually into 
 related fields of fact and idea, to be found in the Readers and in other 
 available literature. 
 
 It is not the purpose of the authors that one of these higher Readers 
 be read through consecutively. The selection to be read on any par- 
 ticular day should be chosen to meet some immediate need of the pupils, 
 as determined by the geography, history, language, or nature lesson, or 
 by its appropriateness to the mental or moral condition of the children. 
 
 The reading lesson should often constitute a part of the lesson upon 
 some other subject. While the pupils are interested in some subject 
 belonging to a particular branch of study, at once, as a part of the 
 exercise in that study, the class should read appropriate selections 
 from Stepping Stones to Liteuatuub or from other books bearing 
 directly upon the subject. 
 
xH THE READING LESSON AND ITS USEa 
 
 It is important that cliildren acquire early the habic of looking upon 
 reading and all other arts as means tn ends, and not as ends. 
 
 Second. The reading lesson enables the teacher to introduce the 
 child to the true study of literature. All literature, whether found in 
 these Beaders or elsewhere, should be treated with the respect worthy 
 of its dignity, and not as mere material for a reading exercise. 
 
 Every literary production used for a, reading lesson should be ap- 
 proached by the teacher and the class as a treasure-house of fact, idea, 
 or beauty. Its excellencies, whether of matter or style, should be made 
 apparent by discovery on the part of the children, if possible. 
 
 The reading lesson should be primarily a literature lesson. The 
 children should regard it as a search after hidden treasures, and through 
 it they should learr now to approach books, and what to look for in 
 reading. They should be taught to distinguish superiority of style, to 
 see the beauty and aptness of figures of speech, to discover the fine shades 
 of thought and feelir.g which the author has brought out by his choice 
 of words. They should be led to consider literature not only intrin» 
 sicaUy, but extrinsicaHy as well. They should find out the relations of 
 the literary production to the author's own life, to contemporaneous 
 events, to history, to other facts and ideas within the child's range 
 of vision, to other literature, and to lite. Especially should they be 
 directed to other reading similar in style, thought, or subject. 
 
 7'hird. Through the reading lesson the teacher can to a large degree 
 direct the general reading of her class, not only in school but at home. 
 This is one of its most valuable functions. Children read poor or 
 vicious books because they do not know others, or do not know how 
 much more interesting the better books are. 
 
 The reading lesson should lead to literary voyages of discovery to the 
 public library and other sources of supply. Through it, children should 
 become accustomed to the use of books, and be led to love them. 
 
 Care should be taken that the books suggested be within the range 
 of the children's comprehension and interest. It is well for the teacher 
 occasionally to take the class to the library and show them how to find 
 what they need, and then to send them often for books for their indi- 
 vidual use and that of the class. 
 
 By these and other means, the reading lesson may be used to clarify 
 and amplify the treatment of all the subjects of the curriculum, to teach 
 the child discrimination in regard to literature, to cultivate his taste 
 for the truly excellent, and to introduce him wisely, pleasantly, and 
 permanently to the world of books, and through books to a richer life. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Pkeliminary Matter. 
 
 Fa»b 
 
 Prbfacb V 
 
 Suggestions to Teachers viii 
 
 The Reading Lesson and its Uses xi 
 
 Selections in Pbose and Poetry. 
 
 tiESSOH. 
 
 Subject. 
 
 . AUTHOE. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 Washington Irving .... 
 
 Williarit Makepeace Thackeray . 
 
 3 
 
 II. 
 
 Rip Van Winkle 
 
 Washington Irving 
 
 6 
 
 III. 
 
 Lady Clare 
 
 Alfred Tennyson 
 
 28 
 
 IV. 
 
 Lochinrar 
 
 Sir Walter Scott 
 
 32 
 
 V. 
 
 Tlie Slave-Making Instinct in 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 Ants 
 
 Charles Robert Darwin .... 
 
 34 
 
 VI. 
 
 Anecdotes about Ants . . . 
 
 Sir John Imbbock 
 
 39 
 
 VII. 
 
 Tlie Battle of the Ants , . . 
 
 Henry David Thoreau .... 
 
 46 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Por A' That, and A' That . . 
 
 Robert Burns 
 
 50 
 
 IX 
 
 How they Broughi, the Good 
 
 
 
 
 News from Ghent to Aix 
 
 Robert Browning 
 
 51 
 
 X. 
 
 Football at Rngby . . 
 
 Thomas Hughes 
 
 54 
 
 XI 
 
 Contest between a Man and a 
 
 
 
 
 Cannon .... . . 
 
 Victor Hugo 
 
 66 
 
 XII. 
 
 Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes . 
 
 
 76 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Old Man Dreams . . . 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes . . 
 
 77 
 
 XIV 
 
 The Last Leaf 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes . . . 
 
 79 
 
 XV. 
 
 ■The Race of the Oregon . . 
 
 John James Meehan 
 
 81 
 
 X.V1. 
 
 Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers 
 
 
 
 
 in New England . . 
 
 Felicia Dorothea Brown Semans 
 
 83 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Battle Hymn of the Republic 
 
 Julia Ward Howe .... 
 
 85 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The American Flag . . . 
 
 Joseph Rodman Drake .... 
 
 86 
 
 
 ziii 
 
 
nv 
 
 COKTENTS 
 
 Lesson. 
 XXX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 XXXUI. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 XL. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 XLir. 
 xLin. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 Happy 
 
 BUBJXOT. 
 
 Hail, Colambia! 
 Land 
 
 Jonathan Swift .... 
 
 A Voyage to Lilliput . . 
 
 Ttie Marseillaise .... 
 
 The Watch on the Rhine . 
 
 The Story of Kuth . . . 
 
 Kntb 
 
 A Parental Ode to my Son, 
 aged Three Years and 
 Fire Months .... 
 
 An Iceberg ...... 
 
 Arnold von Winkelried . 
 
 £lepbantHuutingin Africa 
 
 The Eve of Waterloo . . 
 
 The Prisoner of ChiUon . 
 
 Loehiel's Warning . . . 
 
 The Death of Moses . 
 
 The Burial of Moses 
 
 Rome and the Romans 
 
 The Beginning of Rome . 
 
 The HoratiiandtheCuriatii 
 
 The Last of the Kings . 
 
 Horatius at the Bridge . . 
 
 The Islet 
 
 On the Death of a Favorite 
 Cat, drowned in a, Tub 
 of Goldfishes .... 
 
 Object Lessons .... 
 
 The Adventures of Ulysses 
 
 Moses on the Nile . . . 
 
 William Tell 
 
 The Sabbath 
 
 To Autumn 
 
 AinBOB. 
 
 Joseph Hopkinson 
 
 Paob 
 
 . 89 
 91 
 
 Jonathan Swift ...... 92 
 
 Rouget de Lisle ... • . 132 
 
 Max Schneckenbarger ... 134 
 
 The Bible 137 
 
 Thomas Hood . . . . 145 
 
 Thomas Hood 146 
 
 Richard Henry Dana .... 148 
 
 James Montgomery 151 
 
 Sir Samuel White Baker . . 155 
 
 Lord George Noel Gordon Byron 163 
 
 Lord George Noel Gordon Byron 166 
 
 Thomas Campbell 180 
 
 The Bible 18S 
 
 Cecil Frances Alexander . . . 184 
 
 188 
 
 191 
 
 202 
 
 205 
 
 Thomas Bahington Macaulay . 208 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson . . . 226 
 
 Thomas Gray 237 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher .... 239 
 
 Charles Lamb 242 
 
 Victor Hugo 279 
 
 "Peter Parley" 282 
 
 James Grahame 294 
 
 John Keats 297 
 
 Lexicon 
 
 89!) 
 
LIST OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Name. Selection. FAa& 
 
 Alexander, Cecil Pkances . . The Burial of Moses 184 
 
 Bakes, Samuel White .... Elephaut Huntiug in Africa . . . 155 
 
 Beecher, Henry Waud . . . Object Lesssons 239 
 
 Bible, The The Story of Ruth 137 
 
 " The Death of Moses 183 
 
 Brow^ning, Robert How they Brought the Good News 51 
 
 Burns, Robert For A' That, and A' That .... 50 
 
 Byron, Lord The Eve of Waterloo 163 
 
 " " The Prisoner of Chillon 166 
 
 Campbell, Thomas Lochiel's Warning 180 
 
 Dana, Richard Henry .... An Iceberg 148 
 
 Darwin, Charles Robert . . The Slave-Making Instinct of Ants 34 
 
 Drake, Joseph Rodman . . . The American Flag 86 
 
 Goodrich, Samuel Guiswolu . William Tell 282 
 
 Grahamk, James The Sabbath 294 
 
 Gray, Thomas On the Death of a Favorite Cat . . 237 
 
 Hemans, Felicia Dorothea . Landing of the lilgrim Fathers . 83 
 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell . . The Old Man Dreams 77 
 
 " " " . . The Last Leaf 79 
 
 Hood, Thomas Ruth 145 
 
 " " A Parental Ode 146 
 
 HopKiNSON, Joseph Hail Columbia 89 
 
 Howe, Jdlia Ward Battle Hymn of the Republic . 85 
 
 Hughes, Thomas Football at Rugby 54 
 
 Hugo, Victor Contest between a Man and a Cannon 66 
 
 ' " Moses on the Nile 279 
 
 Irving, Washington .... Rip Van Winkle 6 
 
 Keats, John To Autumn ... .... 297 
 
 Lamb, Charles The Adventures of Ulysses . . . 242 
 
 "jISLe, Rouget de The Marseillaise 132 
 
 LcBBOCK, John . . . Anecdotes about Ants . . . . 39 
 
 Macaulay Thomas BAniNOTON Horatius at the Bridge 208 
 
 Meehan, John jAMiiS .... Tlie Race of the Cregon .... 81 
 
 Montgomery, James Arnold von V\ inkclried . . 151 
 
 ScHNECKENBURGKR, Max . . . Tile Watch on the Rhine .... 134 
 
 HcOTT, Sir Walter .... Lochinvar 32 
 
 Stevenson, Robert Louis . . . The Islet 226 
 
 Swift, Dean A Voyage to Lilliput 92 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred Lady Clare 28 
 
 Thackeray, William Makepeace Washington Irving 3 
 
 Tboreau, Henry David . . . Th« Battle of the Ants 46 
 
 (XV. I 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. 
 
 SUBJBOT. BOUBCB. FAOK 
 
 Football at Rugby English Engraving . . FKosiispiEeB 
 
 Suunyside, Irving's Home ..... Photograph 2 
 
 Washington Irving ..... . " 3 
 
 Rip Van Winkle Photograph of Joseph Jefferson . 9 
 
 After the Twenty Years' Sleep ... " " " .19 
 
 Slave-Making Ants Original 36 
 
 The Behavior of Ants " 39 
 
 Henry David Thoreau Photograph 46 
 
 Bringing the Grood News Original 53 
 
 Thomas Hnghes Photograph 54 
 
 Victor Hngo " 66 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes " 76 
 
 The Last Leaf Original 79 
 
 Canopy over Plymouth Rock .... Photograph 84 
 
 The Stars and Stripes Original 88 
 
 Jonathan Swift Portrait 91 
 
 Gulliver and the Pygmy Original 106 
 
 The Pygmies and Gulliver's Hat . . " 120 
 
 Gulliver Towing the Ships .... " 125 
 
 The French Flag « 132 
 
 The German Flag " 134 
 
 Ehrenbreitstein, on the Rhine . . . Photograph 135 
 
 Kaomi and Ruth Painting bi/ Philip H. Calderon . 138 
 
 An Iceberg Painting bg William Bradford . 149 
 
 African Elephants Photograph 155 
 
 Iluke of Wellington Portrait,from British Nat. Gallery 164 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte Painting by Paul Delaroche . . 165 
 
 The Castle of Chillon Photograph 171 
 
 Moses Statue by Michelangelo .... 185 
 
 A Roman Soldier Original 188 
 
 Implements of Writing " 189 
 
 Ruins of the Coliseum at Rome . . " 190 
 
 A Roman Standard " 191 
 
 Romulus and Remus Painting by Rubens . ... 195 
 
 School of the Vestal Virgins .... « " Sector Le Eoux . . 199 
 
 Present Aspect of the Roman Forum . Photograph 207 
 
 Thomas Babington Macaulay ... " 208 
 
 The Islet " 227 
 
 The Hut " 231 
 
 A Greek Lamp Original 242 
 
 Ulysses Slaying the Suitors .... Painting by Flaxman .... 274 
 
 Meeting of Ulysses and Penelope . . « « PinturiccHo . . . 278 
 
 Monument to William Tell, Altorf . Photograph 283 
 
 Tell's Flight Painting by Kaulbach .... 291 
 
 Chapel of Tell, Lake Lucerne . . . Photograph 293 
 
 Swallowg Painting by M. Laux .... jos 
 
 (xvl.) 
 
A EEADEE FOR SIXTH GRADES 
 
AREADERrOR5IXTHGPADK 
 
 W 
 
 I. WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 (1783-1859.) 
 
 ASHINGTON 
 IRVING was one 
 of the first of American, 
 writers who can really be 
 called great. He wrote 
 histories, biographies, es- 
 says, and stories. His 
 essays are, perhaps, the 
 works by which he is best 
 known. Mr. Irving was 
 never married, but made 
 a home for some nieces 
 who were left poor. 
 
 He was very much ad- 
 mired and loved, both in 
 our own country and in foreign lands, where he was known 
 not only for his ability as a writer, but also for his kindly 
 spirit, gentle and modest manner, and really noble char- ; 
 acter. His home was called " Sunnyside," and stood in a 
 beautiful spot on the bank of the Hudson River, not many 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVINO. 
 
4 STEPPINO STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 miles above New York. In the Catskill Mountains, which 
 were his near neighbors, were laid the scenes of " Rip Van 
 Winkle " and the " Legend of Sleepy Hollow," two of his 
 most famous sketches, which are both given in these 
 Readers. 
 
 The following sketch of Mr. Irving was written by 
 William Makepeace Thackeray, a famous English novelist, 
 who greatly admired our American writer : — 
 
 "In America the love and regard for Irving was a na- 
 tional sentiment. Party wars are perpetually raging there, 
 and are carried on by the press with a rancor and fierceness 
 against individuals which exceed British, almost Irish, viru- 
 lence. It seemed to me, during a year's travel in the 
 country, as if no one ever aimed a blow at Irving. All 
 men held their hands from that harmless, friendly peace- 
 maker. I had the good fortune to see him at New York, 
 Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, and remarked 
 how in every place he was honored and welcomed. Every 
 large city has its ' Irving House.' The country takes pride 
 in the fame of its men of letters. The gate of his own 
 charming little domain on the beautiful Hudson River was 
 forever swinging before visitors who came to him. He shut 
 out no one. I had seen many pictures of his house, and 
 read descriptions of it, in both of which it was treated 
 with a not unusual American exaggeration. It was but 
 a pretty little cabin of a place ; the gentleman of the press, 
 who took notes of the place whilst his kind old host was 
 sleeping, might have visited the whole house in a couple 
 of minutes. 
 
 " And how came it that this house was so small, when Mr. 
 Irving's books were sold by hundreds of thousands, — nay, 
 millions ; when his profits were known to be large, and the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVINO. 
 
 habits of life of the good old bachelor were notoriously 
 modest and simple ? He had loved once in his life. The 
 lady he loved died; and he, whom all the world loved, 
 never sought to replace her. I can't say how much the 
 thought of that fidelity has touched me. Does not the very 
 cheerfulness of his after life add to the pathos of that untold 
 story ? To grieve always was not his nature ; or, when he 
 had his sorrow, to bring all the world in to condole with 
 him and bemoan it. Deep and quiet he lays the love of 
 his heart, and buries it ; and grass and flowers grow over 
 the scarred ground in due time. 
 
 " Irving had such a small house and such narrow rooms 
 because there was a great number of people to occupy 
 them. He could only afford to keep one old horse (which, 
 lazy and aged as it was, managed once or twice to run away 
 with that careless old horseman). Irving could only live 
 very modestly, because the wifeless, childless man had a 
 number of children to whom he was as a father. He had 
 as many as nine nieces, I am told, — I saw two of these 
 ladies at his house, — with all of whom the dear old man 
 had shared the produce of his labor and genius. 
 
 '"Be a good man, my dear.' One can't but think of 
 these last words of the veteran Chief of Letters,^ who had 
 tasted and tested the value of worldly success, admiration, 
 prosperity. Was Irving not good, and, of his works, was 
 not his life the best part ? In his family, gentle, generous, 
 good-humored, affectionate, self-denying; in society, a de- 
 lightful example of complete gentlemanhood. I do n't know 
 what sort of testimonial will be raised to him in his own 
 country, where generous and enthusiastic acknowledgment 
 of American merit is never wanting; but Irving was in 
 * Sir Walter Scott on his deathbed. 
 
6 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 our service as well as theirs, and as they have placed a 
 stone at Greenwich yonder in memory of that gallant 
 young Bellot who shared the perils and fate of some of our 
 Arctic seamen, I would like to hear of some memorial 
 raised by English writers and friends of letters, in affec- 
 tionate remembrance of the dear and good Washington 
 Irving." 
 
 II. RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 By Washington Irving. 
 PART I. 
 
 WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must 
 remember the KaatskilP Mountains. They are a 
 dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and 
 are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a 
 noble height and lording it over the surrounding country. 
 Every change of season, every change of weather, — in 
 deed, every hour of the day produces some change in the 
 magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they 
 are regarded by all the goodwives far and near as perfect 
 barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they 
 are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines 
 on the evening sky; but sometimes, when the rest of the 
 landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray 
 vapor about their summits, which, in the last rays of the 
 setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. 
 At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may 
 have descried the light smoke curling up from the village 
 whose shingle roofs gleam among the trees just where the 
 ^ Kaats'kill, now spelled Cats'kill. 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of 
 the near landscape. It is a little village, of great antiquity, 
 having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in 
 the early times of the province,TJust about the beginning 
 of the government of the good Peter Stuyvesant (may he 
 rest in peace !), and there were some of the houses of the 
 original settlers standing within a few years, built of small 
 yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed win- 
 dows and gabled fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 
 In that same village, and in oue of these very houses 
 (which, to tell the exact truth, was sadly time-worn and 
 weather-beaten), there lived, many years since, while the 
 country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, 
 good-natured fellow by the name of Rip Van Winkle. He 
 was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so 
 gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and 
 accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He 
 inherited, however, but little of- the martial character of 
 his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple, 
 good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, 
 and an obedient, henpecked husband. Indeed, to the 
 latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of 
 spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for 
 those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating 
 abroad who are under the discipline of shrews at home. 
 Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malle- 
 able in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; and a 
 curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for 
 teaching the virtue of patience and long suffering. A 
 termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be con- 
 sidered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle 
 was thrice blessed. 
 
8 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Certain it is that he was a great favorite among all the 
 goodwives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable 
 sex, took his part in all family squabbles, and never failed, 
 whenever they talked these matters over in their evening 
 gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van, Winkle. The 
 children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever 
 he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their 
 playthings, taught them to fly kites and to play marbles, 
 and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. 
 Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was sur- 
 rounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, I clamber- 
 ing on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with 
 impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout 
 the neighborhood. 
 
 The great error in Rip Van Winkle's composition was 
 an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It 
 could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance, for 
 he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and as heavy 
 as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, and 
 even though he should not be encouraged by a single nib- 
 ble. He would carry a fowling piece on his shoulder for 
 hours together, trudging through woods and swamps and 
 up hill and down dale to shoot a few squirrels or wild 
 pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even 
 in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country 
 frolics for husking Indian com or building stone fences ; 
 the women of the village, too, used to employ him to run 
 their errands and to do such little odd jobs as their less- 
 obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word, Rip 
 was ready to attend to anybody's business but his own ; but 
 as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he 
 found It impossible. 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 hi OKI a photography by special permission. 
 RIP VAN WINKLE 
 As IMPERSONATED BT JOSEPH JeFFBRSON. 
 
10 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm : 
 it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole 
 country; everything about it went wrong, and would go 
 wrong in spite of him. His fences were continually fall- 
 ing to pieces ; his cow would either go astray or get among 
 the cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his field 
 than anywhere else ; the rain always made a point of set- 
 ting in just as he had some out-door work to do : so that, 
 though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his 
 management acre by acre, until there was little more left 
 than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was 
 the worst-conditioned farm in the neighborhood. 
 
 His children, too, were as ragged and as wild as if they 
 belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in 
 his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the 
 old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen trooping 
 like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his 
 father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to 
 hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in 
 bad weather. 
 
 Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mor- 
 tals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world 
 easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with 
 least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a 
 penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would 
 have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his 
 wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idle- 
 ness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his 
 family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was inces- 
 santly going, and everything he said or did was sure to 
 produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but 
 one way of replying to all lectures of this kind, and that, 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. U 
 
 by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his 
 shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said noth- 
 ing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from 
 his wife ; so that he was fain to draw off his forces and 
 take to the outside of the house, — the only side which, in 
 truth, belongs to a henpecked husband. 
 
 Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was 
 as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle 
 regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked 
 apon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's 
 going so much astray. True it is, in all points of spirit 
 befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal 
 as ever scoured the woods ; but what courage can with- 
 stand the ever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's 
 tongue ? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest 
 fell, his tail drooped to the ground or curled between his 
 legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a 
 sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flour- 
 ish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with 
 yelping precipitation. 
 
 Time grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as 
 years of matrimony rolled on ;|^ tart temper never mellows 
 with age, and a sharp tongue is the only instrument that 
 grows keener with constant use.*) For a long while he used 
 to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting 
 a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and 
 other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions 
 on a bench before a small inn designated by a rubicund 
 portrait of His Majesty, George the Third. Here they used 
 to sit in the shade through a long summer's day, talking list- 
 lessly over the village gossip or telling endless sleepy stories 
 about nothing. I But it would have been worth any states- 
 
12 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 man's money to have heard the profound discussions that 
 sometimes took place when, by chance, an old newspaper 
 feU into their hands from some passing traveler. How 
 solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out 
 by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dsipper, learned 
 little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic 
 word in the dictionary; and how sagely they would deliber- 
 ate upon public events some months after they had taken 
 place. 
 
 The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by 
 Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord 
 of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morn- 
 ing till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and 
 keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbors 
 could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by 
 a sundial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but 
 smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for 
 every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood 
 him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any- 
 thing that was read or related displeased him, he was ob- 
 served to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth 
 short, frequent, and angry puffs ; but when pleased, he 
 would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it 
 in light and placid clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe 
 from his mouth and letting the fragrant vapor curl about 
 his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect 
 approbation. 
 
 From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at last 
 routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break 
 in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the 
 members all to naught; nor was the august personage, 
 Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 13 
 
 this terrible virago, who charged him outright with en- 
 coaijaging her husband in habits of idleness. 
 
 Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his 
 only alternative to escape from the labor of his farm and 
 the clamor of his wife was to take his gun in hand, and to 
 stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat 
 himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his 
 wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow- 
 sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy 
 mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my 
 lad; whilst I live thou shall never want a friend to stand 
 by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his 
 master's face, and, if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he 
 reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. 
 
 In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumnal day, 
 Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts 
 of the Kaatekill Mountains. He was after his favorite sport 
 of squirrel shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and 
 reechoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, 
 he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a green knoll 
 covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of 
 a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could 
 overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich 
 woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, 
 far below him, moving on its silent and majestic course, 
 with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging 
 bark here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at 
 last losing itself in the blue highlands. 
 
 Un the other side he looked down into a deep mountain 
 glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with frag- 
 ments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by 
 tb«» reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip 
 
14 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually advan- 
 cing ; the mountains began to throw their long blue shad- 
 ows over the valleys ; he saw that it would be dark long 
 before he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy 
 sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame 
 Van Winkle. 
 
 As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a 
 distance, hallooing, " Rip Van Winkle 1 Rip Van Winkle ! " 
 He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow winging 
 its solitary flight across the mountains. He thought his 
 fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, 
 when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening 
 air : " Rip Van Winkle I Rip Van Winkle I " At the same 
 time Wolf bristled up his back, and, giving a low growl, 
 skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into 
 the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over 
 him ; he looked anxiously in the same direction, and per- 
 ceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and 
 bending under the weight of something he carried on his 
 back. He was surprised to see any human being in this 
 lonely, unfrequented place ; but, supposing it to be some 
 one of the^neighborhood in need of assistance, he hastened 
 down to yield it. 
 
 On nearer approach, he was still more surprised at the 
 singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short 
 square-built old fellow, with thick, bushy hair and a grizzled 
 beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion, — a 
 cloth jerkin strapped round his waist; several pairs of 
 breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with 
 rows of buttons down the sides and bunches at the knees.' 
 He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of 
 Kquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and help him 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 15 
 
 with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this 
 new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity ; 
 and, mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a 
 narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain ton-ent. 
 As they ascended. Rip every now and then heard long roll- 
 ing peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of 
 a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward 
 which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an in- 
 stant, but, supposing it to be the muttering of one of those 
 transient thunder showers which often take place in moun- 
 tain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, 
 they came to a hollow like a small amphitheater, sur- 
 rounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of 
 which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only 
 caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening 
 cloud. During the whole time, Rip and his companion had 
 labored on in silence ; for, though the former marveled 
 greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor 
 up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and 
 incomprehensible about the unknown that inspired awe and 
 checked familiarity. 
 
 On entering the amphitheater, new objects of wonder pre- 
 sented themselves. On a level spot in the center was a 
 company of odd-looking personages playing ninepins. They 
 were dressed in quaint, outlandish fashion ; some wore short 
 doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and 
 most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with 
 that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar ; one 
 had a large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes ; the 
 face of another seemed to consist entirely of a nose, and was 
 surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set oflE with a little 
 red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and 
 
16 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander. 
 He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten coun- 
 tenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, 
 high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high- 
 heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group 
 reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting 
 in the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, 
 and which had been brought over from Holland at the 
 time of the settlement. 
 
 What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though 
 these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they 
 maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, 
 and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he 
 had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of 
 the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they 
 were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals 
 of thunder. 
 
 As Rip and his companion approached them, they sud- 
 denly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such 
 fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack-luster 
 countenances, that his heart turned v^thin him and his 
 knees smote together. His companion now emptied the 
 contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to 
 him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and 
 trembling; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, 
 and then returned to their game. 
 
 By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He 
 even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste 
 the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of 
 excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and 
 was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste pro- 
 voked another, and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE!. 17 
 
 often that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes 
 swam in his head, his head gradually declined, and he fell 
 into a deep sleep. 
 
 PART n. 
 
 ON waking,* he found himself on the green knoll whence 
 he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed 
 his eyes, — it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were 
 hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was 
 wheeling aloft and breasting the pure mountain breeze. 
 " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night." 
 He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep, — the 
 strange man with a keg of liquor, the mountain ravine, 
 the wild retreat among the rocks, the woe-begone party at 
 ninepins, the flagon — " Oh ! that flagon I that wicked 
 flagon!" thought Rip. "What excuse shall I make to 
 Dame Van Winkle!" 
 
 He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, 
 well-oiled fowling piece, he found an old firelock lying 
 by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, 
 and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the 
 grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, 
 and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his 
 gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have 
 strayed away for a squirrel or a partridge. He whistled 
 after him and shouted his name, but all in vain; the 
 echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to 
 be seen. 
 
 He determined to revisit the scene of last evening's 
 gambol, and, if he met with any of the party, to demand 
 his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself 
 * Twenty years had elapsed since he lay down to sleep. 
 
IS STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 stiff in the joints and wanting in his usual activityjr 
 "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought 
 Rip, "and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of 
 rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van 
 Winkle." 
 
 With some difficulty he got down into the glen: he 
 found the gully up which he and his companion had as- 
 cended the preceding evening, but to his astonishment a 
 mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping from 
 rock to rock and filling the glen with babbling murmurs. 
 He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working 
 his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and 
 witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the 
 wild grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrils from 
 tree to tree and spread a kind of network in his path. 
 
 At length he reached to where the ravine had opened 
 tlirough the. cliffs to the amphitheater; but no traces of the 
 opening remained. The rocks presented a high, impenetra- 
 ble wall over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of 
 feathery foam, and fell, into a broad, deep basin, black from 
 the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip 
 was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after 
 his dog ; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock 
 of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that 
 overhung a sunny precipice, and who, secure in their 
 elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's 
 perplexities. 
 
 What was to be done ? The morning was passing away, 
 and Rip felt famished for the want of his breakfast. He 
 grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet 
 his wife ; but it would not do to starve among the moun- 
 tains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 19 
 
 Prom, n ph^ntogrnph, by special permisnon. 
 
 BIP VAN WINKLE AFTER THE TWENTY-YEAKS SLEEF 
 
 AS IMPKBeONATED BY JoSRPII JeFPBRSON. 
 
20 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 and with a heart full of trouble and anxiety turned his 
 steps homeward. 
 
 As he approached the village he met a number of people, 
 but none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, 
 for he had thought himself acquainted with every one in 
 the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different 
 fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all 
 stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever 
 they cast their eyes upon him, invariably stroked their 
 chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced 
 Rip involuntarily to do the same, when, to his astonish- 
 ment, he found his beard had grown a foot long. 
 Tie had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop 
 of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him and 
 pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too — not one of 
 which he recognized for an old acquaintance — barked at 
 him as he passed. The very village was altered; it.waa 
 larger and more populous. There were rows of houses 
 which he had never seen before, and those which had been 
 his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were 
 over the doors, strange faces at the windows, — every- 
 thing was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began 
 to doubt whether he and the world around him were not 
 bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he 
 had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatekill 
 Mountains; there ran the silver Hudson at a distance; 
 there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always 
 been. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last 
 night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly ! " 
 
 It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his 
 own house, which he approached with silent awe, expect- 
 ing every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE 21 
 
 Winkle. He found the house gone to decay, — the roof 
 fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the 
 hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf was 
 skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur 
 snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an 
 unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, 
 " has forgotten me I " 
 
 He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame 
 Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, 
 forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness over- 
 came all his connubial fears, — he called loudly for his wife 
 and children ; the lonely chambers rang for a moment with 
 his voice, and then all again was silence. 
 
 He now hurried forth and hastened to his old resori, 
 the village inn, — but it was gone too. A large, rickety 
 wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping 
 windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats 
 and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union 
 Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree 
 that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, 
 there was now reared a tall, naked pole, with something 
 on the top that looked like a red nightcap, and from it 
 was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage 
 of stars and stripes, — all this was strange and incompre- 
 hensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby 
 face of King George, under which he had smoked so many 
 a peaceful pipe; but even this was singularly metamor- 
 phosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and 
 buff, and a sword was held in the hand instead of a 
 scepter ; the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and 
 underneath was painted, in large characters, "General 
 Washington." 
 
22 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, 
 but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the 
 people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, dis- 
 putatious tone about it instead of the accustomed phlegm 
 and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the, sage 
 Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and 
 fair, long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead 
 of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, dol- 
 ing forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place 
 of these a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets 
 full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights 
 of citizens — elections — members of Congress — liberty — 
 Bunker's Hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other words 
 which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered 
 Van Winkle. 
 
 The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, 
 his rusty fowling piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of 
 women and children at his heels, soon attracted the atten- 
 tion of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, 
 eying him from head to foot with great curiosity. The 
 orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, 
 inquired on which side he voted. Rip stared in vacant 
 stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled 
 him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear 
 whether he was Federal or Democrat. Rip was equally 
 at a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing, 
 self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made 
 his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and 
 the left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself 
 before Van Winkle with one arm akimbo, the other rest- 
 ing on his cane, his keen eyes' and sharp hat penetrating, 
 as it were, into his very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. S3 
 
 what brought him to the election with a gun on his 
 shoulder and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant 
 vto breed a riot in the village. "Alas I gentlemen," cried 
 Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a poor, quiet man, a 
 native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, 
 God bless him ! " 
 
 Here a general shout burst from the bystanders, — "A 
 toryl a toryl a spy! a refugee 1 hustle him! away with 
 him I " it was with great difficulty that the self-important 
 man in the cocked hat restored order ; and, having assumed 
 a tenfold austerity of brow, he demanded again of the un- 
 known culprit what he came there for, and whom he was 
 seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he 
 meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some 
 of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. 
 
 " Well, who are they ? Name them." 
 
 Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, " Where 's 
 Nicholas Vedder?" 
 
 There was a silence for a little while, when an old man 
 replied, in a thin, piping voice : " Nicholas Vedder 1 why, 
 he is dead and gone these eighteen years I There was a 
 wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all 
 about him, but that 's rotten and gone too." 
 
 "Where's Brom Dutcher?" 
 
 " Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the 
 war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony 
 Point ; others say that he was drowned in a squall at the 
 foot of Anthony's Nose. I do n't know, — he never came 
 back again." 
 
 " Where 's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster ? " 
 
 " He went off to the wars, too, — was a great militia gen- 
 eral, and is now in Congress.'' 
 
24 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Rip's heart died away at the hearing of these sad changes 
 in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in 
 the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of 
 such enormous lapses of time, and matters which he could 
 not xmderstand: war, — Congress, — Stony Point; he had 
 no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in 
 despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" 
 
 " Oh, Rip Van Winkle I " exclaimed two or three. " Oh, 
 to be sure 1 that 's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against 
 the tree." 
 
 Rip looked, and beheld an exact counterpart of himself 
 as he went up the moimtain, — apparently as lazy, and cer- 
 tainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely 
 confounded. He doubted his own identity, or whether he 
 was himself or another man. In the midst of this bewilder- 
 ment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, 
 and what was his name. 
 
 " God knows," exclaimed he, at his wits' end. " I 'm not 
 myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no — 
 that 's somebody else got into my shoes — I was myself 
 last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they 've 
 changed my gun, and everything is changed, and I 'm 
 changed, and I can't tell what 's my name, or who I am I " 
 
 The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, 
 wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their fore- 
 heads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun 
 and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very 
 suggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked 
 hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical mo- 
 ment a fresh, comely woman pressed through the crowd to 
 get a peep at the graybearded man. She had a chubby 
 child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 25 
 
 cry. ' " Hush, Rip I " cried she, " hush, you little fool I the 
 old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air 
 of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train 
 of recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my 
 good woman ? " asked he. 
 
 " Judith Gardenier." 
 
 " And your father's name ? " 
 
 " Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name ; but it 's 
 twenty years since he went away from home with his 
 gun, and never has been heard of since. His dog came 
 home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was 
 carried away by the Indians, nobody, can tell. I was then 
 but a little girl," 
 
 Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it 
 with a faltering voice : — 
 
 "Where 's your mother?" 
 
 " Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she broke 
 a blood vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler." 
 
 There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. 
 The honest man could contain himself no longer. He 
 caught his daughter and her child in his arms. "I am 
 your father I " cried he. "Young Rip Van Winkle once, — 
 old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does anybody know poor Rip 
 Van Winkle?" 
 
 All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from 
 among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and, peering 
 under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, "Sure 
 enough 1 it is Rip Van Winkle ; it is himself I Welcome 
 home again, old neighbor I Why, where have you been 
 these twenty long years?" 
 
 Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had 
 been to him as but one night. The neighbors stared when 
 
Se STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 they heard it; some were seen to wink at each other, and 
 put their tongues in their cheeks; and the self-important 
 into in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had 
 returned to the field, screwed down the comers of his 
 mouth and shook his head, — upon which there was a gen- 
 eral shaking of the head throughout the assemblage.. 
 
 It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old 
 Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the 
 road. He was a descendant of the historian of that name, 
 who wrote one of the earliest accounts of that province. 
 Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and 
 well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of 
 the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and corrobo- 
 rated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He as- 
 sured the company that it was a fact, handed down from 
 his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Mountains 
 had always been hatmted by strange beings. That it was 
 affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discov- 
 erer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there 
 eveiy twenty years with his crew of the Half Moon, being 
 permitted in this way to visit the scenes of his enterprise, 
 and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the gi-eat city 
 called by his name ; that his father had once seen them 
 in their old Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow 
 of the mountain ; and that he himself had heard, one sum- 
 mer afternoon, the sound of their ballg, like distant peals 
 of thunder. 
 
 To make a long story short, the company broke up, and 
 retm-ned to the more important concerns of the election. 
 Rip's daughter took him home to live with her ; she had a 
 snug, well-furnished house, and a stout, cheery farmer for a 
 husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 27 
 
 used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's son and heir, 
 who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, 
 he was employed to work on the farm, but evinced an 
 hereditary disposition to attend to anything else but his 
 own business. 
 
 Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon 
 found many of his former cronies, though all rather the 
 worse for the wear and tear of time, and preferred making 
 friends among the rising generation, with whom he soon 
 grew into greg-t favor. 
 
 Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that 
 happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, he took 
 his place once more on the bench at the inn door, and was 
 reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village and a 
 chronicle of the old times "before the war." It was 
 some time before he could get into the regular track of gos- 
 sip, or could be made to comprehend the strange events 
 that had taken place during his torpor, — how there had 
 been a revolutionary war ; that the country had thrown 
 off the yoke of old England ; and that, instead of being 
 a subject of his Majesty, George the Third, he was now a 
 free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no pol- 
 itician: the changes of state and empire made but little 
 impression upon him; but there was one species of despot- 
 ism under which he had long groaned, and that was petti- 
 coat government. Happily that was at an end ; he had got 
 his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in 
 and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny 
 of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name was men- 
 tioned, however, he shook his head, shrtigged his shoulders, 
 and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an ex- 
 pression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. 
 
28 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived 
 at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary 
 on some points every time he told it, — which was, doubtless, 
 owing to his having so recently awakened. It was at last 
 settled down precisely to the tale I have felated, and not 
 a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but knew it 
 by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, 
 and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that 
 this was one point on which he always remained flighty. 
 The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally 
 gave it full credit. Even to this day, they never hear a 
 thunder storm of a summer afternoon, about the Kaatskill, 
 but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their 
 game of ninepins; and it is a common wish of all hen- 
 pecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs 
 heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting 
 draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. 
 
 I 
 
 III. LADY CLARE. 
 
 By Alfred Tennyson. 
 (1809-1892.) 
 T was the time when lilies blow, 
 
 And clouds are highest up in air, 
 Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe 
 To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 
 
 I trow they did not part in scorn: 
 Lovers long-betroth'd were they : 
 
 They two will wed the morrow morn: 
 God's blessing on the day ! 
 
LADY CLARE. 29 
 
 " He does not love me for my birth, 
 Nor for my lands so broad and fair; 
 
 He loves me for my own true worth, 
 And that is well," said Lady Clare. 
 
 in there came old Alice the nurse, 
 
 Said, " Who was this that went from thee ? " 
 
 " It was my cousin," said Lady Clare ; 
 "To-morrow he weds with me." 
 
 " Oh, God be thank'd 1 " said Alice the nurse, 
 "That all comes round so just and fair: 
 
 Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands. 
 And you are not the Lady Clare." 
 
 " Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse ? " 
 Said Lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild ? " 
 
 "As God's above," said Alice the nurse, 
 "I speak the truth: you are my child. 
 
 "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; 
 
 I speak the truth, as I live by bread 1 
 I buried her like my own sweet child, 
 
 And put my child in her stead." 
 
 "Falsely, falsely have ye done, 
 O mother," she said, "if this be true, 
 
 To keep the best man under the sun 
 So many yeSrs from his due." 
 
 "Nay, now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
 
 "But keep the secret for your life. 
 And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, 
 
 When you are man and wife," 
 
30 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 "If I'm a beggar bom," she said, 
 "I will speak out, for I dare not lie. 
 
 Pull ofP, pull off the brooch of gold. 
 And fling the diamond necklace by." 
 
 "Nay, now, my child," said Alice the nurse. 
 
 "But keep the secret all ye can." 
 She said, " Not so ; but I will know 
 
 If there be any faith in man." 
 
 " Nay, now, what faith ? " said Alice the nurse. 
 
 "The man will cleave unto his right." 
 "And he shall have it," the lady replied, 
 
 "The' I should die to-night." 
 
 " Yet give one kiss to your mother dear ! 
 
 Alas ! my child, I sinn'd for thee." 
 " O mother, mother, mother ! " she said, 
 
 "So strange it seems to me. 
 
 " Yet here 's a kiss for my mother dear, 
 
 My mother dear, if this be so. 
 And lay your hand upon my head, 
 
 And bless me, mother, ere I go." 
 
 She clad herself in a russet gown. 
 
 She was no longer Lady Clare: 
 She went by dale, and she went by down 
 
 With a single rose in her hair. 
 
 ' 'The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought 
 Leapt up from where she lay, 
 Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, 
 And foUow'd her all the way. 
 
LADY CLARE. 31 
 
 Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: 
 "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth 1 
 
 Why come you drest like a village maid. 
 That are the flower of the earth?" 
 
 "If I come drest like a village maid, 
 
 I am but as my fortunes are; 
 I am a beggar born," she said, 
 
 "And not the Lady Clare." 
 
 " Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
 "For I am yours in word and in deed. 
 
 Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
 " Your riddle is hard to read." 
 
 Oh, and proudly stood she up ! 
 
 Her heart within her did not fail ; 
 She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes. 
 
 And told him all her nurse's tale. 
 
 He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn: 
 
 He turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood; 
 
 "If you are not the heiress born. 
 And I," said he, " the next in blood — 
 
 "If you are not the heiress bom. 
 And I," said he, "the lawful heir, 
 
 We two will wed to-morrow morn. 
 And you shall still be Lady Clare." 
 
32 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 o 
 
 IV. LOCHINVAR. 
 
 By Sik Waltek Scott. 
 (1771-1832.) 
 |H, young Lochinvar is come out of the west. 
 
 Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, 
 And save his good broadsword he weapons had none; 
 He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 
 
 He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, 
 
 He swam the Eske River where ford there was none; 
 
 But ere he alighted at Netherby gate 
 
 The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
 
 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war 
 
 Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
 
 So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 
 Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all: 
 Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 
 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word) 
 "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war. 
 Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" 
 
 "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; — 
 Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 
 And now am I come, with this lost love of mine. 
 To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
 There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far. 
 That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 
 
X.OOHINVAR. 33 
 
 The bride kissed the goblet; the knighf took it up; 
 He quaffed of the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
 She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh. 
 With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. 
 He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar, — 
 "Now tread we a measure 1" said young Lochinvar, 
 
 So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
 
 That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 
 
 While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 
 
 And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 
 
 And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'T were better by far 
 
 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 
 
 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood 
 
 near; 
 So light to the croupe the fa,ir lady he swimg, 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
 "She is won I we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; 
 They '11 have ' fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 
 
 Lochinvar. 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; 
 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they 
 
 ran: 
 There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
 So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 
 
34 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 V. THE SLAVE-MAKING INSTINCT IN ANTS. 
 
 Br Charles Robert Darwib. 
 (1809-1882.) 
 
 THIS remarkable insbilist was first discovered in the 
 brown ants by Pierre Huber, a better observer even 
 than his celebrated father. This ant is absolutely depend- 
 ent on its slaves; without their aid the species would 
 certainly become ex;^nfit in a single year. The males 
 and fertile females ^ST no work of any kind j and the 
 workers, or sterile females, though most energetic and 
 courageous in capturing slaves, do no other work. They 
 are incapable of making their own nests or of feeding their 
 own larvse. When the old nest is found inconvenient, 
 and they have to migrate, it is the slaves that determine 
 the migration, and actually carry their masters in their 
 jaws. So utterly helpless are the masters that when Huber 
 shut up thirty of them without a slave,, but with plenty of 
 the food which they like best, and with their own larvae and 
 pupae to stimulate them to work, they did nothing ; they 
 could not even feed themselves, and many perished of hun- 
 ger. Huber then introduced a single slave, and she in- 
 stantly set to work, fed and saved the survivors, made 
 some cells and tended the larvse, and put all to rights. 
 What can be more exti-aordinary than these well-ascertained 
 facts ? If we had not known of any other slave-making ant, 
 it would have been hopeless to speculate how so wonder- 
 ful an instinct could have been perfected. 
 
 Another species, a red ant, was likewise first discov- 
 ered by Huber to be a slave-making ant. This species 
 
THE SLAVE-MAKING INSTINCT IN ANTS. 3S 
 
 is found in the southern part of England, and its habits 
 have been attended to hj Mr. F. Smith, of the British 
 Museum, to whom I am much indebted for information 
 on this and other subjects. Although fully trusting in the 
 statements of Huber jjid Mr. Smith, I tried to approach 
 the subject in a skeptical frame of mind, as any one may 
 well be excused for doubting the existence of so extraor- 
 dinary an instinct as that of making slaves. Hence I 
 will give the observations which I made in some little 
 detail. I opened fourteen nests of red ants, and found a 
 few slaves in all. Males and fertile females of the slave 
 species are found only in their own proper communities, and 
 have never been observed in the nests of red ants. The 
 slaves are black, and not above half the size of their red 
 masters, so that the contrast in their appearance is great. 
 When the nest is slightiy disturbed the slaves occasionally 
 come out, and, like their masters, are much agitated, and 
 defend the nest ; when the nest is much disturbed and the 
 larvae and pupse are exposed, the slaves work energetically 
 with their masters in carrying them away to a place of 
 safety. Hence it is clear that the slaves feel quite at 
 home. 
 
 During the months of June and July, on three successive 
 years, I watched for several hours many nests in Surrey and 
 Sussex, and never saw a slave either leave or enter a nest. 
 As, during fthese months, the slaves are very few in number, 
 I thought they might behave differently when more numer- 
 ous; but Mr. Smith informs me that he has watched the 
 nests at various hours during May, June, and August, both 
 in Surrey and Hampshire, and has never seen the slaves, 
 though present in large numbers in August, either leave or 
 enter the nest. Hence he considers them as strictly house- 
 
36 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 hold slaves. The masters, on the other hand, may be con- 
 stantly seen bringing in materials fpr the nests, and food of 
 all kinds. 
 
 During the year 1860, however, in the month of July, I 
 came across a community with an unusually large stock of 
 slaves, and I observed a few slaves mingled with their mas- 
 ters, leaving the nest and marching along the same road to a 
 tall Scotch fir tree, twenty-five yards distant, which they 
 ascended together, probably in search of aphides or cocci. 
 According to Huber, who had ample opportunities for ob- 
 servation, the slaves in Switzerland habitually work with 
 
 their masters in making nests, and they alone open and 
 close the doors in the morning and evening ; and, as Huber 
 expressly states, their principal office is to search for aphides. 
 This difference in the usual habits of the slaves and their 
 masters in the' two countries probably depends merely on 
 the slaves being captured in greater numbers in Switzer- 
 land than in England. 
 
 One day I fortunately witnessed a nugration of red ants 
 from one nest to another, and it was a most interesting 
 spectacle to see the masters carefully carrying their slaves 
 
THE SLAVE-MAKING- INSTINCT IN ANTS. 37 
 
 in their jaws instead of being carried by them, as in the 
 case of brown ants. Another day my attention was struck 
 by about a score of the slave makers haunting the same 
 spot, and evidently not in search of food ; they approached 
 and were vigorously repulsed by an independent community 
 of the slave species, sometimes as many as three of these 
 ants clinging to the legs of the slave-making red ants. The 
 latter ruthlessly killed their small opponents, and carried 
 their dead bodies as food to their nest, twenty-nine yards 
 distant ; but they were prevented from getting any pupae to 
 re^r as slaves. I then dug up a small parcel of the pupae 
 of black ants from another nest, and put them down on 
 a bare spot near the place of combat; they were eagerly 
 seized and carried off by the tyrants, who perhaps fancied 
 that, after all, they had been victorious in their late combat. 
 At the same time I laid on the same place a small parcel 
 of the pupse of another species (yellow ants), with a few 
 of these little yellow ants still clinging to the fragments of 
 their nest. This species is sometimes, though rarely, made 
 into slaves, as has been described by Mr. Smith. Although 
 so small a species, it is very courageous, and I have seen 
 it ferociously attack other ants. In one instance I found, 
 to my surprise, an independent community of yellow ants 
 under a stone beneath a nest of the slave-making red ants ; 
 and when I had accidentally disturbed both nests, the little 
 ants attacked their big neighbors with surprising courage. 
 Now I was curious to ascertain whether red ants could dis- 
 tinguish the pupse of black ants, which they habitually 
 make into slaves, from those of the little and furious yellow 
 ants, which they rarely capture, and it was evident that 
 they did at once distinguish them ; for we have seen that 
 they eagerly and instantly seized the pupae of black ants, 
 
38 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 whereas they were much terrified when they came across 
 the pupae or even the earth from the nest of the yellow ants, 
 and quickly ran away ; but in about a quarter of an hour, 
 shortly after all the little yellow ants had crawled away, 
 they took heart and carried off the pupae. 
 
 One evening I visited another community of red ants, 
 and found a number of ants returning home and en- 
 tering the nests, carrying the dead bodies of black ants 
 (showing that it was not a migration) and numerous pupae. 
 I traced a long file of ants burdened with booty, for about 
 forty yards back, to a very thick clump of heath, whence 
 I saw the last individual of the red ants emerge carry- 
 ing a pupa ; but I was not able to find the desolated nest 
 in the thick heath. The nest, however, must have been 
 close at hand, for two or three black ants were rushing 
 about in the greatest agitation, and one was perched motion- 
 less with its own pupa in its mouth on the top of a spray 
 of heath, an image of despair over its ravaged home. 
 
 Such are the facts, though they do not need confirmation 
 by me, in regard to the wonderful instinct of making slaves. 
 Let it be observed what a contrast the instinctive habits 
 of the red ants present with those of the continental 
 brown ants. The latter does not build its own nest, 
 does not determine its own migrations, does not collect 
 food for itself or its young, and cannot even feed itself: 
 it is absolutely dependent on its numerous slaves. The 
 red ants, on the other hand, possess much fewer slaves ; the 
 masters determine when and where a new nest shall be 
 formed, and when they migrate the masters carry the slaves. 
 Both in Switzerland and in England the slaves seem to 
 have the exclusive care of the larvae, and the masters alone 
 go on slave-making expeditions. 
 
ANECDOTES ABOUT ANTS. 
 
 39 
 
 VI. ANECDOTES ABOUT ANTS. 
 
 Bt Sib John Lubbock. 
 (1834- .) 
 
 THE behavior of 
 ants towards one 
 another differs much, 
 according to circum- 
 stances, — whether, for 
 instance, they are 
 alone,, or supported by 
 friends. An ant which 
 would run away, in 
 the first case, will defend itself bravely in the second. 
 
 On one occasion several ants belonging to one of my 
 nests were feeding on some honey, spread on a slip of glass. 
 One of them had got thoroughly entangled in it. I took 
 her and put her down in front of another individual 
 beloiiging to the same nest, and close by I placed a drop 
 of honey. 
 
 The ant devoted herself entirely to the honey, and neg- 
 lected her friend, whom she left to perish. I then chloro- 
 formed one, and put her on the board among her friends. 
 Several touched her, but while I watched them for two or 
 three hours, none took any particular notice of her. 
 
 On the other hand, I have only on one occasion seen a 
 living ant expelled from her nest. I observed once an ant 
 carrying another belonging to the same community away 
 from the nest. The condemned ant made a very feeble 
 resistance. 
 
40 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 The first ant carried her burden hither and thither fot 
 some time, evidently trying to get away from the nest, 
 which was inclosed by a barrier of fur. After watching 
 for some time, I provided the ant with a paper bridge, up 
 which she immediately went, dropped her 'victim on the 
 far side, and returned home. Could this have been a case 
 in which an aged or invalid ant was being expelled from 
 the nest? 
 
 In order to test the affection of ants belonging to the 
 same nest for one another I made the following experi- 
 ments. I took six ants from one of my nests and impris- 
 oned them in a bottle, one end of which was covered 
 with a layer of muslin. I then put the muslin close to 
 the door of the nest. The muslin was of open texture, the 
 meshes, however, being sufficiently small to prevent the 
 ants from escaping. They could not only see one another, 
 but could also communicate freely with their antennae. 
 
 We now watched to see if the prisoners would be tended 
 or fed by their friends. We could not see, however, that 
 the least notice was taken of them. The experiment, never- 
 theless, was less conclusive than could be wished, because 
 they might have been fed at night, or at some time when 
 we were not looking. It struck me, therefore, that it would 
 be interesting to treat some strangers also in the same 
 manner. 
 
 Accordingly, I put two ants from one of my nests into 
 a bottle the end of which was tied up with muslin as 
 described, and laid it down close to the nest. In another 
 bottle I put two ants from another nest of the same species. 
 The ants which were at liberty took no notice of the bottle 
 containing their imprisoned friends. The strangers in the 
 other bottle, on the contrary, excited them considerably. 
 
ANECDOTES ABOUT ANTa 41 
 
 The whole day one, two, or more ants stood sentry, as 
 it were, over the bottle. In the evening no less than 
 twelve were collected around it, — a larger number than 
 usually came out of the nest at one time. The whole of 
 the next two days, in the same way, there were several ants 
 around the bottle containing the strangers ; while, as far as 
 we could see, no notice whatever was taken of the friends. 
 
 Seven days after, the ants had eaten through the muslin, 
 and effected an entrance. We did not chance to be on the 
 spot on the moment ; but as I found two ants lying dead, — 
 one in the bottle and one just outside, — I think there can 
 be no doubt that the strangers were put to death. The 
 friends throughout were quite neglected. 
 
 IriTone of my nests was an ant without antennse. Never 
 having previously met with such a case, I watched her 
 with great interest; but she never appeared to leave the 
 nest. At length, one day, I found her wandering about in 
 an aimless sort of manner, and apparently not knowing her 
 way at all. After a while she fell in with some specimens 
 of the little yellow ant, that directly attacked her. 
 
 I at once set myself to separate themj but owing either 
 to the wounds she had received from her enemies, or to 
 my rough though well-meant handling, or to both, she 
 was evidently much wounded, and lay helplessly on the 
 ground. After some time another ant from her nest 
 came by. She examined the poor sufferer carefully, then 
 picked her up gently, and carried her away into the nest. 
 It would have been difficult for any who witnessed this 
 scene to have denied to this ant the possession of humane 
 feelings. 
 
 Again^ on another occasion, I perceived a poor ant lying 
 on her back and quite unable to move. The legs were in 
 
43 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATUBK 
 
 cramped attitudes, and the two antennae rolled up in spirals. 
 She was, of course, altogether imable to feed herself. After 
 this I kept my eyes on her. Several times I tried uncover- 
 ing the part of the nest where she was. The other ants 
 soon carried her into the shaded part. 
 
 At the present time I have two other ants crippled in a 
 similar manner, so that they are quite unable to move ; but 
 they have been tended and fed by their companions, the 
 one for five, the other for four months. 
 
 I have made a number of experiments on the power of 
 smell possessed by ants. I dipped camel's-hair brushes into 
 peppermint water, essence of cloves, lavender water, and 
 other strong scents, and suspended them about a quatter 
 of an inch above the strips of paper along which the ants 
 were passing in the experiments before recorded. 
 
 Under these circumstances, while some of the ants passed 
 on without taking any notice, others stopped when they 
 came close to the pencil, and, evidently perceiving the smell, 
 turned back. Soon, however, they returned, and passed the 
 scented pencil. After doing this two or three times, they 
 generally took no further notice of the scent. 
 
 This experiment left no doubt on my mind ; still, to make 
 the matter even more clear, I experimented with ants placed 
 on an isolated slip of paper. Over the paper, and at such a 
 distance as almost, but not quite, to touch any ant that 
 passed under it, I again suspended a camel's-hair brush 
 dipped in lavender water, essence of cloves, and other 
 scents. 
 
 In these experiments the results were very marked ; and 
 no one who watched the behavior of the ants under these 
 circumstances could have the slightest doubt as to their 
 power of smelL 
 
ANECDOTES ABOUT ANTS. 43 
 
 T then took a large queen ant, and fastened her on a 
 board, by a thread. When she had become quiet, I tried 
 her with some tuning forks ; but they did not disturb her 
 in the least. I then advanced a feather very quietly, so as 
 almost to touch first one and then the other of the an- 
 tennae, which, however, did not move, 
 
 I then dipped the pencil in essence of mugk and tried again. 
 The antenna was slowly drawn back. I then repeated the 
 same with the other antenna. If I touched the antenna, 
 the ant started away apparently smarting. I then experi- 
 mented with essence of lavender, and with a second ant. 
 The results were the same as before. 
 
 Many of my other experiments point to the same conclu- 
 sion ; and, in fact, there can be no doubt whatever that 
 in ants the sense of smell is highly developed. 
 
 In order to test the intelligence of ants, it has always 
 seemed to me that there is no better way than to ascertain 
 some object which they would clearly desire, and then to 
 interpose some obstacle which a little ingenuity would 
 enable them to overcome. I therefore placed some larvae 
 in a cup, which I put on a slip of glass surrounded by 
 water, but accessible to the ants by only one pathway, in 
 which was a bridge consisting of a strip of paper two thirds 
 of an inch long and one third of an inch wide. 
 
 Having then put a black ant from one of my nests near 
 these larvae, she began carrying them off, and by degrees 
 a number of friends came to help her. I then, when about 
 twenty-five ants were so engaged, moved the little paper 
 bridge slightly, so as to leave a chasm Just so wide that 
 the ants could not reach across. They came and tried hard 
 to do so ; but it did not occur to them to push the paper 
 bridge, though the distance was only about one third of an 
 
44 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. • 
 
 iach, and they might easily have done so. After trying for 
 about a quarter of an hour, they gave up the attempt and 
 returned home. This I repeated several times. 
 
 Then, thinking that paper was a substance to which they 
 were not accustomed, I tried the same with a bit of straw 
 one inch long and ojie eighth of an inch wide. The result 
 was the same. I repeated this more than once. 
 
 Again, I suspended some honey over a nest of yellow 
 ants at a height of about halt an inch, and accessible only 
 by a paper bridge more than ten feet long. Under the 
 glass I then placed a small heap of earth. The ants soon 
 swarmed over the earth on to the glass and began feeding 
 on the honey. I then removed a little of the earth, so 
 that there was an interval of about one third of an inch 
 between the glass and the earth ; but, though the distance 
 was so small, they would not jump down, but preferred to 
 go down by the long bridge. 
 
 They tried in vain to stretch up from the earth to the 
 glass, which, however, was just out of their reach, though 
 they could touch it with their antennae ; b^it it did not 
 occur to them to heap the earth up a little, though if they 
 had moved only half a dozen particles, they would have 
 secured for themselves direct access to the food. At length 
 they gave up aU attempts to reach up to the glass, and 
 went around by the paper bridge. I left the arrangement 
 for several weeks, but they continued to go around by the 
 long paper bridge. 
 
 Again, I varied the experiment as follows : Having left a 
 nest without food for a short time, I placed some honey on 
 a small piece of wood, surrounded by a little moat of glycer- 
 ine half an inch wide and about one tenth of an inch in 
 depth. Over this moat I then placed a paper bridge, one 
 
ANECDOTES ABOUT ANTa 45 
 
 end of which rested on some fine mold. I then put an ant 
 on to the honey, and soon a little crowd was collected 
 around it. 
 
 I then removed the paper bridge; the ants could not 
 cross the glycerine; they came to the edge and walked 
 round and round, but were unable to get across, nor did 
 it occur to them to make a bridge or bank of the mold 
 which I had placed so conveniently for them. I was the 
 more surprised at this, on account of the ingenuity with 
 which they avaU themselves of the earth for constructing 
 their nests. 
 
 For instance, wishing, if possible, to avoid the trouble 
 of frequently moistening the earth in my nests, I supplied 
 one of my communities with a frame containing, instead 
 of earth, a piece of linen, one portion of which projected 
 beyond the frame and was immersed in water. The linen 
 then sucked up the water by capillary attraction, and thus 
 the air in the frames was kept moist. 
 
 The ants approved of this arrangement, and took up their 
 quarters in the frame. To minimize evaporation, I usually 
 closed the frame all round, leaving only one or two Small 
 openings for the ants; but in this case I left the outer 
 side of the frame open. 
 
 The aits, however, did not like being thus exposed ; they 
 therefore brought earth from sotDe little distance, and built 
 up a regular wall along the open side, blocking up the space 
 between the upper and lower plates of glass, and leaving 
 only one or two small openings for themselves. This 
 struck me as very in geni gtas. The same expedient was, 
 inoreover, repeated under similar circumstances by the slaves 
 belonging to my nest of Amazon ants. ^ 
 
4:6 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK 
 
 VII. THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS. 
 
 Henrt David Thokeau. 
 
 (1817-1862.) 
 
 HBNKY D. THOREAD « 
 
 Henry D. Thoeeao 
 was an American author 
 of great ability. He was a 
 very strange man and had 
 many queer notions. He 
 believed that people could 
 get along with very little 
 money as well as with 
 much, and that if they 
 only gratified their neces- 
 sary wants and had no lux- 
 uries, they would be happy. 
 At one time he built with 
 his own hands a little 
 house in the woods, and 
 lived there alone for some 
 years, eating very little but 
 ■what he could raise in his 
 garden. He loved nature, 
 and was a very close ob- 
 server, as is clearly shown 
 in the following account of 
 the Battle of the Ants. 
 
 /^NE day when I went to my wood pile, or rather my 
 ^-^ pile of stumps, I observed two large ants, — the one 
 red, the other much larger, nearly half an inch long, and 
 black, — fiercely contending with one another. Having 
 onCe got hold, they never let go, but struggled and wres- 
 tled, and rolled on the chips incessantly. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS. 47 
 
 Looking farther, I was surprised to find that the chips 
 were covered with combatants ; that it was not a duellum 
 but a helium, — a war between two races of ants, the red 
 always pitted against the black, and frequently two red ones 
 to one black. The legions of these myrmidons covered all 
 the hills and vales in my wood yard, and the ground was 
 already strewn with the dead and dying, both red and 
 black. 
 
 It was the only battle which I ever witnessed, the only 
 battlefield that I ever trod while the battle was raging, — 
 internecine war, the red republicans on the one hand, and 
 the black imperialists on the other. On every side they 
 were engaged in deadly combat, yet without any noise 
 that I could hear; and human soldiers never fought so 
 resolutely. 
 
 I watched a couple that were fast locked in each other's 
 embrace, in a little sunny valley amid the chips, now at 
 noonday prepared to fight till the sun went down or life 
 went out. The smaller red champion had fastened himself 
 like a vice to his adversary's front, and through all the 
 tumblings on that field never for an instant ceased to 
 gnaw at one of his feelers near the root, having already' 
 caused the other to go by the board; while the stronger 
 black one dashed him from side to side, and, as I saw, 
 on looking nearer, had already divested him of several of 
 his members. 
 
 They fought with more pertinacity than bulldogs. Neither 
 manifested the least desire to retreat. It was evident that 
 their battle cry was, " Conquer, or die." In the mean while, 
 there came along a red ant on the hillside of this valley, evi- 
 dently full of excitement, and who either had dispatched his 
 foe, or had not yet taken part in the battle, — probably the 
 
48 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 latter, for he had lost none of his limbs, — whose mother 
 had charged him to return with his shield or upon it. 
 
 Or perchance he was some Achilles, who had nourished 
 his wrath apart, and had now come to avenge or rescue bis 
 Patroclus. He saw this unequal combat from afar, for the 
 blacks were nearly twice the size of the reds. He drew 
 near with rapid pace, till he stood on his guard within half 
 an inch of the combatants ; then, watching his opportunity, 
 he sprung upon his right foreleg, leaving the foe to select 
 among his own members. And so there were three united 
 for life, as if a new kind of attraction had been invented 
 which put all other locks and cements to shame. 
 
 I should not have wondered by this time to find that they 
 had their respective musical bands stationed on some emi- 
 nent chip and playing their national airs the while, to ex- 
 cite the slow and cheer the dying combatants. I was myself 
 excited somewhat, even as if they had been men. The 
 more you look at it, the less the difference. And certainly 
 there is not the fight recorded in Concord history at least, 
 if in the history of America, that will bear a moment's com- 
 parison with this, whether for the members engaged in it, 
 or for the patriotism and heroism displayed. 
 
 For numbers and carnage, it was an Austerlitz or Dresden. 
 I have no doubt that it was a principle that they fought for, 
 as much as our ancestors, and not to avoid a three-penny 
 tax on their tea ; and the results of this battle will be as 
 important and memorable to those whom it concerns as 
 those of the Battle of Bunker Hill at least. 
 
 I took up the chip on which the three which I have par- 
 ticularly described were struggling, carried it into my 
 house, and placed it under a tumbler on my window sill, in 
 order to see the issue. Holding a microscope to the first- 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS. 49 
 
 mentioned red ant, I saw that though be was assiduouslj' 
 gnawing at the near foreleg of his enemy, having severed 
 his remaining feeler, his own breast was all torn away, ex- 
 posing what vitals he had there to the jaws of the black 
 warrior, whose breastplate was apparently too thick for him 
 to pierce; and the dark carbuncles of the sufferer's eyes 
 shone with ferocity such as war only could excite. 
 
 They struggled half an hour under the tumbler, and 
 when I looked again the black soldier had severed the heads 
 of his foes from their bodies, and the still living heads were 
 hanging on either side ot him, like ghastly trophies at his 
 saddlebow, still apparently as firmly fastened as ever, and 
 he was endeavoring with feeble struggles, being without 
 feelers and with only the remnant of a leg, and I know not 
 how many other wounds, to divest himself of them, which 
 at length, after half an hour or more, he accomplished. I 
 raised the glass, and he went off over the window sill in 
 that crippled state. Whether he finally survived that com- 
 bat, and spent the remainder of his days in some Hotel des 
 Invalides,^ I do not know ; but I thought that his industry- 
 would not be worth much thereafter. I never learned 
 which party was victorious, nor 'the cause of the war ; but 
 I felt for the rest of that day as if I had had my feel- 
 ings excited and harrowed by witnessing the struggle, the 
 ferocity and carnage of a human battle before my door. 
 
 * Hotel des Invalides (o-tel'da-zahn-vah-leed'), a great building in 
 Paris established as a home for disabled and infirm soldiers. 
 
50 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 VIII. FOR A' THAT, AND A* THAT. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 (1759-1796.) 
 TS there, for honest poverty, 
 ^ That hangs his head, and a' that? 
 The coward slave, we pass him by, 
 
 We dare be poor for a' that I 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 Our toils obscure, and a' that; 
 The rank is but the guinea's stamp. 
 The man 's the gowd for a' that. 
 
 What thougl^-,on hamely fare we dine. 
 
 Wear nMd^-gray, and a' that; 
 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine 
 
 A man's a man for a' that I 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show, and a' that; 
 The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 
 
 Is king o' men for a' that. 
 
 Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 
 
 Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; 
 Though hundreds worship at his word, 
 
 He 's but a coof for a' that ; 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 His riband, star, and a' that; 
 The man of independent mind. 
 
 He looks and laughs at a' that. 
 
 A prince can mak a belted knight. 
 A marquis, duke, and a' that, 
 
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 61 
 
 But an hpiiiest man's aboon his might, 
 
 GuMimh, he mauna fa' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their dignities, and a' that; 
 The pith o' sense and pride o' worth 
 
 Are higher ranks than a' that. 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may — 
 
 As come it will for a' that — 
 That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 
 
 May bear the gree, and a' that. 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 It's comin' yet, for a' that, 
 That man to man, the warld o'er. 
 
 Shall brothers be for a' that. 
 
 IX. HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
 FROM GHENT TO AIX. 
 
 By Eobkrt Browning. (1812-1889 ) 
 
 J SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 
 I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
 "Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew, 
 " Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through : 
 Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest. 
 And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 
 
 Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace 
 Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place 
 I turned in my saddle, and made its girths tight, 
 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
 Rebuckled the cheek strap, chained slacker the bit, 
 Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 
 
53 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
 Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
 At Boom, a great yeUow star came out to see ; 
 At Diiffeld, ' t was morning as plain as could be ; 
 And from Mecheln church steeple we heard the haK chime, 
 So, Joris broke silence with, " Yet there is time t " 
 
 At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
 To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past, 
 And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. 
 With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
 The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray; 
 
 And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
 For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
 And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
 O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance; 
 And the thick, heavy spume flakes, which aye aud anon 
 His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 
 
 By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, " Stay spur ! 
 Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault 's "not in her. 
 We '11 remember at Aix," — for one heard the quick wheeze 
 Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees, 
 And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank. 
 As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 
 
 So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
 
 Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 
 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 
 
 'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff 
 
 Till over by Dalhem a dome spire sprang white. 
 
 And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight I 
 
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 
 
 53 
 
 " How they 11 greet us I " — and all in a moment his roan 
 Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
 And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
 Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
 With liis nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
 And with circles of red for his eye sockets' rim. 
 
 Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, 
 Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
 Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer; 
 , Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good. 
 Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 
 
 And all I remember is, friends flocking round 
 As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; 
 And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine. 
 As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine. 
 Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
 Was no more than his due who brought good news from 
 Ghent. 
 
54 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 X. FOOTBALL AT RUGBY. 
 
 By Thomas Hughes. 
 
 (1823-1896.) 
 
 " Tom Brown's School 
 Days ' is a book which 
 every boy and girl should 
 read, for, while it is a book 
 about boys, it is interest- 
 ing also to girls. 
 
 The school at Rugby, 
 which Tom Brown in the 
 story is attending, is one of 
 the great English schools 
 where hundreds of boys go 
 every year. There are sev- 
 eral of these great schools, 
 some much larger than 
 Rugby. At one time the 
 school at Rugby was not 
 a very good one, and was 
 not well attended. When 
 the directors placed in 
 charge of it a young man 
 named Thomas Arnold, 
 people shook their heads 
 wisely, and said Rugby 
 was too hard a school for 
 so young a man to manage; but Thomas Arnold had one quality 
 which always wins, and that was manliness. He was a most honorable 
 and manly man, who loved boys. Naturally, the boys loved him, and 
 soon the school at Rugby, instead of being one of the poorest, became 
 the best in all England, and Thomas Arnold became the best known 
 schoolmaster in the world. Hundreds of boys who gi-aduated from the 
 school while he was its master looked up to him as the man who had 
 given them their start in life, and who was always their ideal. Among 
 these boys was Thomas Hughes. So greatly did he revere Dr. Arnold, 
 
 THOMAS HUGHES. 
 
FOOTBALL AT RUGBY. 63 
 
 and so tenderly did he love the school, that, when he became a man, 
 he wrote a book about them, and this book i^ " Tom Brown's School 
 Days." The selection which is given you here is taken from the early 
 part of the. book. Tom Browu, a little boy, has just been entered at 
 the school, and has made the acquaintance of a few other boys. This 
 is his first football game. You will see, as you read, that the terms 
 used and the manner of playing are quite different from those with 
 which you are familiar in playing football, but they will show you the 
 way the game was played in England. 
 
 " TTOLD the punt about!" "To the goals!" are the 
 A A cries, and all stray balls are impounded by the au- 
 thorities ; and the whole mass of boys moves up towards the 
 two goals, dividing as they go into three bodies. That little 
 band on the left, consisting of from fifteen to twenty boys, 
 Tom amongst them, who are making for the goal under the 
 schoolhouse wall, are the schoolhouse boys who are not to 
 play-up, and have to stay in goal. The larger body, moving 
 to the island goal, are the schoolboys in a like predicament. 
 The great mass in the middle are the players-up, both . sides 
 mingled together; they are hanging their jackets, and all 
 who mean real work, their hats, waistcoats, neck -handker- 
 chiefs, and braces, on the railings round the small trees ; 
 and there they go by twos and threes up to their respective 
 grounds. There is none of the color and tastiness of get- 
 up, you will perceive, which lends such a life to the present 
 game at Rugby, making the dullest and worst-fought match 
 a pretty sight. Now each house has its own uniform of 
 cap and jersey, of some lively color; but at the time we 
 are speaking of, plush caps have not yet come in, or uni- 
 forms of any sort, except the schoolhouse white trousers, 
 which are abominably cold to-day : let us get to work, bare- 
 headed and girded with our plain leajiher straps — but we 
 mean business, gentlemen. 
 
56 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And now that the two sides have fairly sundered, and 
 each occupies its own ground, and we get a good look at 
 them, what absurdity is this? You don't mean to say that 
 those fifty or sixty boys in white trousers, many of them 
 quite small, are going to play that huge mass opposite? 
 Indeed I do, gentlemen : they 're going to try, at any rate, 
 and won't make such a bad fight of it, either, — mark my 
 word ; for has n't old Brooke won the toss, with his lucky 
 halfpenny, and got choice of goals and kick-off? The new 
 ball you may see lie there quite by itself, in the middle, 
 pointing towards the school or island goal ; in another min- 
 ute it will be well on its way there. Use that minute in 
 remarking how the schoolhouse side is drilled. You will 
 see, in the fii-st place, that the sixth form boy, who has the 
 charge of goal, has spread his force (the goal-keepers) so 
 as to occupy the whole space behind the goal posts, at dis- 
 tances of about five yards apart ; a safe and well-kept goal 
 is the foundation of all good play. 
 
 Old Brooke is talking to the captain of quarters : and 
 now he moves away; see how that youngster spreads his 
 men (the. light brigade) carefully over the ground, half-way 
 between their own goal and the body of their own players-up 
 (the heavy brigade). These again play in several bodies : 
 there is young Brooke and the bulldogs — mark them well 
 — they are " the fighting brigade," " the die hards," larking 
 about at leapfrog to keep themselves warm, and playing 
 tricks on one another. And on each side of old Brooke, 
 who is now standing in the middle of the ground and just 
 going to kick-off, you will see a separate wing of playera-up, 
 each with a boy of acknowledged prowess to look to, — 
 here Warner and there Hedge ; but over all is old Brooke, 
 absolute as he of Russia, but wisely and bravely ruling over 
 
FOOTBALL AT RUGBY. 67 
 
 willing aad worshiping subjects, a true football king. His 
 face is earnest and careful as he glances a last time over his 
 airay, but full of pluck and hope, — the sort of look I hope 
 to sfie.in my general when I go out to fight. 
 
 The school side is not organized in the same way. The 
 goal- keepers are all in lumps, anyhow and nohow ; you 
 can't distinguish between the players-up and the boys in 
 quarters, and there is divided leadership; but with such 
 odds in strength and weight, it must take more than that 
 to hinder them from winning, -^ and so their leaders seem 
 to think, for they let the players-up manage themselves. 
 
 But now look I there is a slight move forward of the 
 schoolhouse wings; old Brooke takes half a dozen quick 
 steps, and away goes the ball spinning towards the school 
 goal; seventy yards before it touches the ground, and at 
 no point above twelve or fifteen feet high, a model kick- 
 off; and the schoolhouse cheer and rush on; the ball is 
 returned, and they meet it and drive it back amongst the 
 masses of the school already in motion. Then the two 
 sides close, and you can see nothing for minutes but a 
 swaying crowd of boys, at one point violently agitated. 
 That is. where the ball is, and there are the keen players to 
 be met, and the glory and the hard knocks to be got ; you 
 hear the dull thud, thud of the ball, and the shouts of 
 " Off your side," " Down with him," " Put him over," 
 " Bravo." This is what we call a scrummage, gentlemen, 
 and the first scrummage in a schoolhouse match was no 
 joke in the consulship of Plancus.^ (See Frontispiece.) 
 
 • The consulship of Plancus. In ancient Rome the time of ap 
 event was frequently reckoned by giving the name of the consul, or 
 chief officer, who was in office at the time. . " In the consulship of 
 Plancus ", means during the year when Plancus was consul. It is 
 here used humorously. 
 
58 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 But see I it has broken, the ball is driven out on the 
 schoolhouse side, and a rush of the school carries it past the 
 schoolhouse players-up. " Look out in quarters," Brooke's 
 and twenty other voices ring out. No need to call, though ; 
 the schoolhouse captain of quarters has caught it on the 
 bound, dodges the foremost schoolboys who are heading 
 the rush, and sends it back with a good drop-kick well into 
 the enemies' country. And then follows rush upon rush, and 
 scrummage upon scrummage, the ball now driven through 
 into the schoolhouse quarters, and now into the school 
 goal ; for the schoolhouse have not lost the advantage which 
 the kick-off and a slight wind gave them at the outset, and 
 are slightly "penning" their adversaries. You say you 
 don't see much in it all, nothing but a struggling mass of 
 boys, and a leather ball, which seems to excite them all to 
 great fury, as a red rag does a bull. My dear sir, a battle 
 would look much the same to you, except that the boys 
 would be men, and the balls iron; but a battle would be 
 worth your looking at for all that, and so is a football match. 
 You can't be expected to appreciate the delicate strokes of 
 play, the turns by which a game is lost and won, — it takes 
 an old player to do that ; but the broad philosophy of foot- 
 ball you can understand if you wHl. Come along with me 
 a little nearer, and let us consider it together; 
 
 The ball has just fallen again where the two sides are 
 tluckest, and they close rapidly around it in a scrummage ; 
 it must be driven through now by force or skill, tiU it flies 
 out on one side or the other. Look how differently the 
 boys face it! Here come two of the bulldogs: bursting 
 through the outsiders, in they go, straight to the heart of 
 the scrummage, bent on driving that ball out on the oppo- 
 site side. That is what they mean to do. My sons, my 
 
FOOTBALL AT RUGBY. 69 
 
 sons t you are too hot ; you have gone past the ball, and 
 must struggle now right through the scrummage, and get 
 round and back again to your own side, before you can be 
 of any further use. Here comes young Brooke ; he goes in 
 as straight as you, but keeps his head, and backs and bends, 
 holding himself still behind the ball, and driving it furi- 
 ously when he gets the chance. Take a leaf out of his 
 book, you young chargers. Here come Speedicut, and 
 Flashman the schoolhouse bully, with shouts and great 
 action. Won't you two come up to young Brooke, after 
 locking-up, by the schoolhouse fire^ with, " Old fellow, 
 was n't that just a splendid scrummage by the three 
 trees ! " 
 
 But he knows you, and so do we. You do n't really want 
 to drive that ball through that scrummage, chancing all 
 hurt for the glory of the schoolhouse, but to make us think 
 that 's what you want, — a vastly different thing, and fel- 
 lows of your kidney will never go through more than the 
 skirts of a scrummage, where it 's all push and no kicking. 
 We respect boys who keep out of it, and do n't sham going 
 in ; but you, — we had rather not say what we think 
 of you. 
 
 Then the boys who are bending and watching on the 
 outside, mark them : they are most useful players, — the 
 dodgers, who seize on the ball the moment it rolls out from 
 amongst the chargers, and away with it across to the oppo- 
 site goal; they seldom go into the scrummage, but must 
 have more coolness than the chargers; as endless as are 
 boys' characters, so are their ways of facing or not meeting 
 a scrummage at football. 
 
 Three quarters of an hour are gone ; first winds are fail- 
 ing, and weights and numbers beginning to tell. Yard by 
 
60 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 yard the schoolhouse have been driven back, contesting 
 every inch of ground. The bulldogs are the color of 
 mother earth from shoulder to ankle, except young Brooke, 
 who has a marvelous knack of keeping his legs. The 
 schoolhouse are being penned in their turn, and now the 
 ball is behind their goal, under the Doctor's wall. The 
 Doctor and some of his family are there looking on, and 
 seem as anxious as any boy for the success of the school- 
 house. We get a minute's breathing-time before old Brooke 
 kicks out, and he gives the word to play strongly for touch, 
 by the three trees. Aw^y goes the ball, and the bulldogs after 
 it, and in another minute there is a shout of, " In touch," 
 * Our ball." Now 's your time, old Brooke, while your men 
 are still fresh. He stands with the ball in his hand, while 
 the two sides form in deep lines opposite one another; he 
 must strike it straight out between them. The lines are 
 thickest close to him, but young Brooke and two or three 
 of his men are shifting up further, where the opposite line 
 is weak. Old Brooke strikes it out straight and strong, 
 and it falls opposite his brother. 
 
 Hurrah ! that rush has taken it right through the school 
 line, and away past the three trees, far into their quarters, 
 and young Brooke and the bulldogs are close upon it. The 
 school leaders rush back shouting, " Look out in goal," and 
 stretch every nerve to catch him, but they are after the 
 fleetest foot in Rugby. There they go straight for the goal 
 posts, quarters scattering before them. One after another 
 the bulldogs go down, but young Brooke holds on. " He is 
 down." No I a long stagger, but the danger is past ; that 
 was the shock of Crew, the most dangerous of dodgers. 
 And now he is close to the school goal, the ball not three 
 vards before him. There is a hurried rush of the school 
 
FOOTBALL AT BUGBT. 61 
 
 fags ' to the spot, but no one throws himself on the ball, the 
 only chance, and young Brooke has touched it right under 
 the school goal posts. 
 
 The school leaders come up furious, and administer tosp to 
 the wretched fags nearest at hand ; they may well be angry, 
 for it is all Lombard Street ^ to a china orange that the 
 schoolhouse kick a goal with the ball touched in such a 
 good place. Old Brooke, of course, will kick it out, but 
 who shall catch and place it ? Call Crab Jones. Here he 
 comes, sauntering along with a straw in his mouth, the 
 queerest, coolest fish in Rugby : if he were tumbled into 
 the moon this minute, he would just pick himself up with- 
 out taking his hands out of his pockets or turning a hair. 
 But it is a moment when the boldest charger's heart beats 
 quick. Old Brooke stands with the ball under his arm, 
 motioning the school back ; he will not kick out until they 
 are all in goal, behind the posts ; they are all edging for- 
 wards, inch by inch, to get nearer for the rush at Crab 
 Jones, who stands there in front of old Brooke to catch the 
 ball. If they can reach and destroy him before he catches, 
 the danger is over, and with one and the same rush they 
 will carry it right away to the schoolhouse goal. Fond 
 hope, it is kicked out and caught beautifully. Crab strikes 
 his heel into the ground to mark the spot where the ball 
 was caught, beyond which the school line may not advance ; 
 but there they stand five deep, ready to rush the moment 
 
 1 fags. The small boys in the old English schools were obliged to 
 act as servants to the larger boys, who ordered them about as Ihey 
 pleased, and even whipped them if they did not mind. The small boy 
 thus serving the larger one was called his fag. 
 
 ^ Lombard Street is the street in London where many of the 
 banks are situated. It stands here for great wealth. 
 
63 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 the ball touches the ground. Take plenty of room 1 do n't 
 give the rush a chance of reaching you I place it true and 
 steady I Trust Crab Jones, — he has made a small hole 
 with his heel for the ball to lie on, by which he is resting 
 on one knee with his eye on old Brooke. " Now I " Crab 
 places the ball at the word, old Brooke kicks, and it lises 
 slowly and truly as the school rush forward. 
 
 Then a moment's pause, while both sides look up at the 
 spinning ball. There it flies straight between the two posts, 
 some five feet above the cross-bar, an unquestioned goal; 
 and a shout of real genuine joy rings out from the school- 
 house players-up, and a faint echo of it comes over the 
 close from the goal keepers under the Doctor's wall. A 
 goal in the first hour, — such a thing has n't been done in 
 the schoolhouse match this five years. 
 
 " Over I " is the cry : the two sides change goals, and the 
 schoolhouse goal keepers come threading their way across 
 through the masses of the school ; the most openly triumphant 
 of them, amongst whom is Tom, a schoolhouse boy of two - 
 hours' standing, getting their ears boxed in the transit. Tom 
 indeed is excited beyond measure, and it is all the sixth 
 form boy, kindest and safest of goal keepers, has been abh. 
 to do to keep him from rushing out whenever the ball has 
 been near their goal. So he holds him by his side, and in- 
 structs him in the science of touching. 
 
 At this moment Griffith, the itinerant vender of oranges 
 from Hill Morton, enters the close with his heavy baskets ; 
 there is a rush of small boys upon the little pale-faced man, 
 the two sides mingling together subdued by the great God- 
 dess Thirst, like the English and French by the streams in 
 the Pyrenees. The leaders are past oranges and apples, 
 but some of them visit their coats and apply ginger beer 
 
FOOTBALL AT RUGBY, 63 
 
 bottles to their mouths. One short, mad rush, and then a 
 stitch in the side, and no more honest play; that's what 
 comes of those bottles. 
 
 But now Griffith's baskets are empty, the ball is placed 
 again midway, and the school are going to kick off. Their 
 leaders have sent their number into goal and rated the rest 
 soundly, and one hundred and twenty picked players-up are 
 there, bent on retrieving the game. They are to keep the ball 
 in front of the schoolhouse goal, and then to drive it in by 
 sheer strength and weight. They mean heavy play and no 
 mistake ; and so old Brooke sees, and places Crab Jones in 
 quarters just before the goal, with four or five picked 
 players, who are to keep the ball away to the sides, where 
 a try at goal, if obtained, wUl be less dangerous than in 
 front. He himself, and Warner and Hedge, who have 
 saved themselves till now, will lead the chargers. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " — " Yes." And away comes the ball 
 kicked high in the air, to give the school time to rush on 
 and catch it as it falls. And here they are amongst us. 
 Meet them like Englishmen, you schoolhouse boys, and 
 charge them home. Now is the time to show what mettle 
 is in you — and there shall be a warm seat by the hall fire, 
 and honor, and lots of bottled beer to-night, for him who 
 does his duty in the next half-hour. And they are well 
 met. Again and again the cloud of their players-up gathers 
 before our goal, and comes threatening on, and Warner or 
 Hedge, with young Brooke and the relics of the bulldogs, 
 break through and carry the ball back. And old Brooke 
 ranges the field like Job's war horse ; the thickest scrum- 
 mage parts asunder before his rush like the waves before a 
 clipper's bows; his cheery voice rings over the field, and 
 his eye is everywhere. And if these nuss the ball, and it 
 
64 STEPPINiGr STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 rolls dangerously 'in front of our goal, Crab Jones and his 
 men have seized it and sent it away toward the sides with 
 the unerring drop-kick. This is worth living for: the 
 whole sum of schoolboy existence gathered up into one 
 straining, struggling half-hour, — a half-hour worth a year 
 of common life. 
 
 The quarter to five has struck, and the play slackens foi 
 a minute before goal ; but there is Crew, the artful dodger, 
 driving the ball in behind our goal, on the island side, 
 where our quarters are weakest. Is there no one to meet 
 him? Yes I look at little East! the ball is just at equal 
 distances between the two, and they rush together, the 
 young man of seventeen and the boy of twelve, and kick 
 it at the same moment. Crew passes on without a stagger ; 
 East is hurled forward by the shock, and plunges on his 
 shoulder as if he would bury himself in the ground; but 
 the ball rises straight into the air, and falls behind Crew's 
 back, while the bravoes of the schoolhouse attest the pluck- 
 iest charge of all that hard-fought day. Warner picks East 
 up lame and half stunned, and he hobbles back into goal, 
 conscious of having played the man. 
 
 And now the last minutes are come, and the school gather 
 for their last rush, every boy of the hundred and twenty 
 who has a run left in him. Reckless of the defense of 
 their own goal, on they come across the level big-side 
 ground, the ball well down amongst them, straight for our 
 goal, like the column of the old guard up the slope at 
 Waterloo. All former charges have been child's play to 
 this. Warner and Hedge have met them, but still on they 
 come. The bulldogs rush in for the last time; they are 
 hurled over or carried back, striving hand, foot, and eyelids. 
 Old Brooke comes sweeping round the skirts of the play, 
 
FOOTBALL AT RUGBY. 65 
 
 and, turning short round, picks out the very heart of the 
 scrummage, and plunges in. It wavers for a moment, — 
 he has the ball I No, it has passed him, and his voice rings 
 out clear over the advancing tide, " Look out in goal 1 " 
 Crab Jones catches it for a moment, but before he can 
 kick, the rush is upon him and passes over him ; and he 
 picks himself up behind them with his straw in his mouth, 
 a little dirtier, but as cool as ever. 
 
 The ball rolls slowly in behind the schoolhouse goal 
 not three yards in front of a dozen of the biggest school 
 players-up. 
 
 There stand the schoolhouse prsepositor, safest of goal 
 keepers, and Tom Brown by his side, who has learned his 
 trade by tins time. Now is your time, Tom. The blood of 
 all the Browns is up, and the two rush in together, aiid 
 throw themselves on the ball, under the very feet of the 
 advancing column, — the prsepositor on his hands and knees 
 arching his back, and Tom all along on his face. Over 
 them topple the leaders of the rush, shooting over the 
 back of the prsepositor, but falling flat on Tom, and knock- 
 ing aU the wind out of his small carcass. " Our ball," 
 says the prsepositor, rising with his prize; "but get up 
 there, — there 's a little fellow under you." They are 
 hauled and roll off him, and Tom is discovered a motion- 
 less body. 
 
 Old Brooke picks him up. " Stand back, give him air," 
 he says; and then, feeling his limbs, adds, "No bones 
 broken. How do you feel, young 'un ? " 
 
 " Hah-hah," gasps Tom, as his wind comes back ; " pretty 
 well, thank you — all right." 
 
 " Who is he ? ■ says Brooke. " Oh, it 's Brown, — he 'a 
 a new boy; I know him,' ssiys East, coming up. 
 
66 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 " Well, he 's a plucky youngster, and will make a player," 
 says Brooke. 
 
 And five o'clock strikes. " No side " is called, and the 
 first day of the schoolhouse match is over. 
 
 '^ From " Tom Brown's School Days." 
 
 XI. CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 
 
 By Victor Hugo. 
 
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 ^ 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Victor Hugo (1802- 
 1885) was one of the great- 
 est writers of France, — 
 some think the greatest. 
 He wrote chiefly poems 
 and novels, in a singularly 
 clear and forceful style. 
 The following account of 
 a battle between a man and 
 a cannon on shipboard is 
 taken from a book entitled 
 " Ninety-three," all of 
 which is most interesting 
 reading, especially for those 
 who are fond of history. 
 
 As you win understand, 
 the works of Victor Hugo 
 were all written in the 
 French language, and af- 
 terward translated into 
 English. 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 ONE of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four 
 pounder, had got loose. 
 This is perhaps the most formidable of ocean accidents. 
 
CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 67 
 
 Nothing more terrible can happen to a ship of war at sea 
 and under full saU. 
 
 A gun that breaks its moorings becomes suddenly some 
 indescribable supernatural beast. It is a machine -which 
 transforms itself into a monster. This mass turns upon its 
 wheels, has the rapid movements of a billiard ball, rolls 
 with the rolling, pitches with the pitching, goes, comes, 
 pauses, seems to meditate, resumes its course, rushes from 
 end to end along the ship like an arrow, circles about, 
 springs aside, evades, roars, breaks, kills, exterminates. It 
 is a battering ram which assaults a wall at its own caprice. 
 Moreover : the battering ram is metal, the wall wood. It 
 is the entrance of matter into liberty; one might say that 
 this eternal slave avenges itself ; it seems as if the power of 
 evil hidden in what we call inanimate objects finds a vent 
 and bursts out suddenly ; it has an air of having lost pa- 
 tience, of seeking some fierce, obscure retribution : nothing 
 more inexorable than this rage of the inanimate. 
 
 The mad mass has the bounds of a panther, the weight 
 of the elephant, the agility of the mouse, the obstinacy of 
 the ax, the unexpectedness of the wave, the rapidity of 
 lightning, the deafness of the tomb. It weighs ten thou- 
 sand pounds, and it rebounds like a child's ball. Its flight 
 is a wild whirl, abruptly cut at right angles. What is 
 to be done ? How to end this ? A tempest ceases, a wind 
 falls, a broken mast is replaced, a leak is stopped, a fire 
 dies out ; but how to control this enormous brute of bronze ? 
 In what way can one attack it ? You can make a mastiil 
 hear reason, astonish a bull, fascinate a boa, frighten a 
 tiger, soften a lion ; there is no resource with that monster. 
 — a cannon let loose. You cannot kill it: it is dead, ami 
 at the same time it lives. \ It lives with r sinister life 
 
88 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 bestowed upon it by Infinity. The planks beneath it give 
 it play. It is moved by the ship, which is moved by the 
 sea, which is moved by the wind. This destroyer is a 
 plaything. The ship, the waves, the blasts, all aid it; 
 hence its frightful vitality. 
 
 How assail this fury of complication? How fetter this 
 monstrous mechanism for wrecking a ship ? How foresee its 
 coming and going, its returns, its stops, its shocks? Any 
 one of these blows on the sides may stave out the vessel. 
 How divide its awful gyrations ? One has to deal with a 
 projectile which thinks, which seems to possess ideas, and 
 which changes its direction at each instant. How stop the 
 course of something which must be avoided ? The horrible 
 cannon flings itself about, advances, recoils, strikes to the 
 right, strikes to the left, flees, passes, disconcerts ambushes, 
 breaks down obstacles, crushes men like flies. The great 
 danger of the situation is in the mobility of its base. How 
 combat an inclined plane which has caprices? The ship 
 has, so to speak, lightning imprisoned in its womb which 
 seeks to escape; something like thunder rolling above an 
 earthquake. 
 
 In an instant the whole crew were on foot. The fault 
 was the gunner's, who had neglected to tighten the screw- 
 nut of the mooring chain, and had badly shackled the four 
 wheels of the carronade; this had given play to the sole 
 and frame, separated the platform, and had ended by break- 
 ing the breeching. The cordage had broken, so that the 
 gun was no longer secure on the carriage. The stationary 
 breeching, which prevents recoil, was not in use at that 
 period. As a heavy wave struck the port, the carronade, 
 badly fastened, had recoiled and burst its chain, and began 
 to rush wildly about between decks. 
 
CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 69 
 
 Conceive, in order to have an idea of this strange sliding, 
 a drop of water running down a pane of glass. 
 
 At the moment when the lashings gave way the gunners 
 were in the battery, — some in groups, others standing 
 alone, occupied with such duties as sailors perform in ex- 
 pectation of the command to clear for action. The car- 
 ronade, hurled forward by the pitching, dashed into this 
 knot of men and crushed four at the first blow ; then, flung 
 back and shot out anew by the rolling, it glanced off to the 
 larboard side, and struck a piece of battery with such force 
 as to unship it. Then rose the cry of distress which had 
 been heard. The men rushed towards the ladder — the 
 gun deck emptied in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 The enormous cannon was left alone. She was given 
 up to herself. She was her own mistress, and mistress of 
 the vessel. She could do what she willed with both. This 
 whole crew, accustomed to laugh in battle, trembled now. 
 To describe the universal terror would be impossible. 
 
 Captain Boisberthelot and Lieutenant Vieuville, although 
 both brave men, stopped at the top of the gangway stairs, 
 and, mute, pale, hesitating, looked down on the gun deck. 
 Some one pushed them aside with his elbow, and descended. 
 
 It was their passenger, the peasant, the man of whom 
 they had been speaking a moment before. 
 
 When he reached the foot of the ladder, he stood still. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 THE cannon came and went along the deck. One 
 might have fancied it the living chariot of the 
 Apocalypse.* The marine lantern swinging overhead added 
 1 A-poc'a-lypse, the Revelation of St. John. 
 
70 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 a dizzying whirl of lights and shadows to this vision. The 
 shape of the cannon was undistinguishable from the rapid- 
 ity of its course, now looking black in the light, now 
 casting weird reflections through the gloom. 
 
 It continued its work of destroying the ship. It had 
 already shattered four other pieces, and dug two holes in 
 the side, fortunately above the water line, though they 
 would leak in case a squall should come on. It dashed 
 itself frantically against the framework; the solid ribs 
 resisted, — bent woods have great strength, but they 
 creaked under the assaults of this terrible club, striking, 
 with a sort of appalling ubiquity, on every side at once. 
 The strokes of a bullet shaken in a bottle would not be 
 madder or more rapid. The planking, damaged in several 
 places, began to gape. The whole ship was filled with the 
 awful tumult. 
 
 The captain had quickly recovered his composure, and 
 at his order the sailors threw down into the deck every- 
 thing that could deaden or check the mad rush of the gun ; 
 mattresses, hammocks, spare sails, coils of rope, extra 
 equipments, and the bales of false assignats, of which the 
 corvette carried a whole cargo, — this infamous English 
 deception being considered a fair trick in war. 
 
 But what could these rags avail, no one daring to 
 descend to arrange them in any useful fashion? In a 
 few minutes they were mere heaps of lint. 
 
 There was just sea enough to render the accident as 
 complete as possible. A tempest would have been desir- 
 able; it might, perhaps, have overthrown the gun, and, the 
 four wheels once in the air, the monster could have been 
 mastered. 
 
 But the devastation increased. There were gashes and 
 
CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 71 
 
 even fractures in the masts, which, imbedded in the wood- 
 I work of the heel, pierce the decks of ships like great round 
 pillars. Under the convulsive blows of the gun the mizzen- 
 mast was cracked, the mainmast itself was injured. The 
 battery was being destroyed. Ten pieces out of the thirty 
 were disabled; the breaches multiplied in the side, and the 
 corvette began to take in water. 
 
 The old passenger who had descended to the gun deck 
 looked like a form of stone stationed at the foot of the 
 stairs. He gazed sternly about upon the devastation. 
 He stood motionless. It seemed impossible to take a 
 single step forward. 
 
 Each bound of the liberated carronade threatened the 
 destruction of the vessel. A few minutes more and ship- 
 wreck would be inevitable. 
 
 They must perish, or put a summary end to the dis- 
 aster; a decision must be made; but how? 
 
 What a combatant, — this cannon ! 
 
 They must check this mad monster. 
 
 They must seize this flash of lightning. 
 
 They must overthrow this thunderbolt. 
 
 Boisberthelot said to La Vieuville, — 
 
 " Do you believe in God, chevalier ? " 
 
 La Vieuville replied, — • 
 
 " Yes. No. Sometimes." 
 
 "In a tempest?" 
 
 " Yes ; and in moments like this." 
 
 " Truly, only God can aid us here," said Boisberthelot. 
 
 All were silent ; the cannon kept up its horrible din. 
 
 Outside, the waves breaking against the ship, responded 
 to the strokes of the cannon. It was like two hammers 
 alternating. 
 
73 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Suddenly, into the midst of this sort of inaccessible circus, 
 where the escaped cannon leaped and bounded, they saw 
 a man appear, an iron bar in his hand. It was the author 
 of this catastrophe, the gunner whose culpable negligence 
 had caused the accident, the captain of the gun. Having 
 been the means of bringing about the misfortune, he 
 desired to repair it. He had caught up a handspike in 
 one hand, a truss with a slipping noose in the other, and 
 jumped down into the gun deck. 
 
 Then a strange combat began, a titanic spectacle, — the 
 struggle of the gun against the gunner; a battle between 
 matter and intelligence, a duel between the inanimate and 
 the human. 
 
 The man was posted in an angle, and, his bar and rope in 
 his two hands, backed against one of the ribs, settled firmly 
 on his legs as on two pillars of steel, livid, calm, tragic, 
 rooted as it were in the planks, he waited. 
 
 He waited for the cannon to pass near him. 
 
 The gunner knew his piece, and it seemed to him that 
 she must rejiflgnize him. He had lived a long while with 
 her. How many times he had thrust his hand into her 
 throat I It was his tame monster. He began to address 
 it as he might have done his dog. " Come," said he. 
 Perhaps he loved it. 
 
 He seemed to wish that it would come towards him. 
 
 But to come tov^ards him, — that would be to spring 
 upon him, and then he was lost. How to avoid its crush, 
 — there was the question. All stared, terrified. Not a 
 breast respired freely, except perhaps that of the old man 
 who alone stood on the gun deck with the two combatants, 
 a stern second. 
 
 He might himself be crushed. He did not stir. 
 
CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 73 
 
 Beneath them the blind sea directed the battle. 
 
 At the instant when, accepting this awful hand-to-hand 
 contest, the gunner approached to challenge the cannon, 
 some chance fluctuation of the waves kept it for a moment 
 immovable, as if stupefied. " Come on 1 " the man said to 
 it. It seemed to listen. 
 
 Suddenly it darted upon him. The man avoided the 
 shock. The struggle began, an unheard of struggle, — 
 the fragile matching itself against the invulnerable; the 
 thing of flesh attacking the brute of brass • on the one 
 side force, on the other a soul. 
 
 The whole scene passed in a half-light. It was like the 
 indistinct vision of a miracle. 
 
 A soul, a strange thing, you would have said that the 
 cannon had one also ; but a soul filled with rage and hatred. 
 This blindness seemed to have eyes. The monster appeared 
 to be watching the man. There was, at least one might 
 have fancied so, cunning in this mass. It also chose its 
 moment. It was an immense unknown insect of metal, 
 having, or seeming to have, the will of a demon. Some- 
 times this colossal grasshopper would strike the low ceiling 
 of the gun deck, then fall back on its four wheels like a 
 tiger upon its four paws, and dart anew on the man. He, 
 supple, agile, adroit, would glide away like a snake from 
 the reach of these lightning-like movements. He avoided 
 the encounters, but the blows which he escaped fell upon the 
 vessel and continued the havoc. 
 
 A piece of broken chain remained attached to the car- 
 ronade. This chain had twisted itself, one could not tell 
 how, about the screw of the breech-button. One end of 
 the chain was fastened to the carriage. The other, hanging 
 loose, whirled wildly about the gun, and added to the 
 
74 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 danger of the blows. The screw held it like a clinched 
 hand, and this chain, multiplying the strokes of the batter- 
 ing ram by its strokes of a thong, made a fearful whirlwind 
 about the cannon, a whip of iron in a fist of brass. This 
 chain complicated the battle. 
 
 Nevertheless, the man fought. Sometimes, even, it was 
 the man who attacked the cannon ; he crept along the side, 
 bar and rope in hand, and the cannon seemed to under- 
 stand, and, as if it perceived a snare, fled. The man, 
 formidable, pursued it. 
 
 Such things cannot last long. The gun seemed sud- 
 denly to say to itself, " Come 1 we must make an end ! " 
 and it paused. One felt the approach of the crisis. The 
 cannon, as if in suspense, appeared to have, or had, — for 
 to all it seemed a sentient being, — a furious premeditation. 
 Without warning, it sprang upon the gunner. The gunner 
 jumped aside, let it pass, and cried out with a laugh, " Try 
 again I " The gun, as if in a rage, broke a carronade to 
 larboard; then, seized anew by the invisible sling which 
 held it, was flung to starboard towards the man, who 
 escaped. Three carronades gave way under the blows of 
 the gun ; then, as if blind and no longer conscious of what 
 It was doing, it turned its back on the man, rolled from 
 the stern to the bow, breaking the stem and making a 
 breach in the forward planking. The man had taken 
 refuge at the foot of the stairs, a few steps from the old 
 man who was watching. The gunner held his handspike 
 in rest. The cannon seemed to perceive him, and, without 
 taking the trouble to turn itself, backed upon him with 
 a quickness of an ax-stroke. The gunner, if driven back 
 against the side, was lost. The crew uttered a simul- 
 taneous cry. 
 
CONTEST BETWEEN A MAN AND A CANNON. 75 
 
 But the old passenger, until now immovable, made a 
 spring more rapid than all those wild whirls. He seized 
 a bale of the false assignats, and, at the risk of being 
 crushed, succeeded in flinging it between the wheels of 
 the carronade. This maneuver, decisive and dangerous, 
 could not have been executed with more adroitness and 
 precision by a man trained to all the exercises set down 
 in Durosel's "Manual of Sea Gunnery." 
 
 The bale had the effect of a plug. A pebble- may stop 
 a log, a tree branch turn an avalanche. The carronade 
 stumbled. The gunner, in his turn, seizing this terrible 
 chance, plunged his iron bar between the spokes of one 
 of the hind wheels. The cannon was stopped. 
 
 It staggered. The man, using the bar as a lever, rocked 
 it to and fro. The heavy mass turned over with a clang 
 like a falling bell, and the gunner, dripping with sweat, 
 ruvshed headlong forward and passed the slipping noose of 
 the truss about the bronze neck of the overthrown monster. 
 
 It was ended. The man had conquered. The ant had 
 subdued the mastodon ; the pigmy had taken the thunder- 
 bolt prisoner. 
 
 The marines and sailors clapped their hands. 
 
 The whole crew hurried down with cables and chains, 
 and in an instant the cannon was securely lashed. 
 
 The gunner saluted the passenger. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he to him, " you have saved my life." 
 
 The old man had resumed his impassible attitude, and 
 did not reply. 
 
76 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XII. DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, 
 
 D' 
 
 (1809-1894.) 
 
 ,R. OLIVER WEN- 
 DELL HOLMES 
 was one of the many great 
 writers who used to live 
 in or near Boston. 
 
 He was one of the 
 brightest and best loved 
 of all American authors. 
 He was an old-time friend 
 of Mr. Longfellow, and 
 like him was for many 
 years a professor in Har- 
 vard College. 
 
 Dr. Holmes was a small 
 man, with a smiling, ge- 
 nial face. He was always 
 ready to grasp the hand 
 of any honest man. He was very witty, but his wit was 
 never used to hurt anything but shams, which he hated. 
 
 Dr. Holmes lived to be a very old man, but even in old. 
 age, after the most of the friends of his earlier days were 
 gone, he was still the same bright, genial, lovable man that 
 he was in his youth. He wrote poems, essays, and novels, 
 and books on medicine. His best known book. is "The 
 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." 
 
 Some of his friends, of whom he had many, were Long- 
 fellow, Hawthorne, Whittier, Emerson, and Lowell. 
 
 OLITEE WElfDBLL HOI.MES. 
 
THE OLD MAN DREAMS. 77 
 
 XIII. THE OLD MAN DREAMS. 
 
 By Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 OH for one hour of youthful joy I 
 Give back my twentieth spring I 
 I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy, 
 Than reign, a graybeard king. 
 
 Off with the spoils of wrinkled age! 
 
 Away with Learning's crown I 
 Tear out life's Wisdom-written page, 
 
 And dash its trophies down! 
 
 One moment let my lifeblood stream, 
 Prom boyhood's fount of flame I 
 
 Give me one giddy, reeling dream 
 Of life aU love and fame I 
 
 My listening angel heard the prayer, 
 And, calmly smiling, said, — 
 
 " If I but touch thy silvered hair 
 Thy hasty wish hath sped. 
 
 "But is there nothing in thy track, 
 
 To bid thee fondly stay, 
 While the swift seasons hurry back 
 
 To find the wished-for day?" 
 
 "Ah, truest soul of womankind' 
 Without thee what were life? 
 
 One bliss I cannot leave behind : 
 I '11 take — my — precious — wife 1 " 
 
78 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 The angel took a sapphire pen 
 
 And wrote in rainbow dew, 
 The man would be a boy again, 
 
 And be a husband too ! 
 
 "And is there nothing yet unsaid. 
 
 Before the change appears? 
 Remember, all their gifts have fled 
 
 With those dissolving years." 
 
 " Why, yes ; " for memory would recall 
 
 My fond paternal joys ; 
 " I could not bear to leave them all — 
 
 I '11 take — my — girl — and — boys." 
 
 The smiling angel dropped his pen, — 
 
 " Why, this will never do ; 
 The man would be a boy again. 
 
 And be a father too I " 
 
 And so I laughed, — my laughter woke 
 The household with its noise, — 
 
 And wrote my dream, when morning broke, 
 To please the gray-haired boys. 
 
 Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray I 
 The stars of its winter, the dews of its May I 
 And when we have done with our life-lasting toys. 
 Dear Father, take care of Thy children. The Boys I 
 
 From " The Boys." 
 
THE LAST LEAF. 
 
 79 
 
 XIV. THE LAST LEAF. 
 
 By Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 This poem was suggested by 
 the appearance in one of our 
 streets of a venerable relic of the 
 Revolution, said to be one of the 
 party that threw the tea overboard 
 in Boston Harbor. He was a fine 
 monumental specimen in his 
 cocked hat and knee breeches, 
 with his buckled shoes and his 
 sturdy cane. The smile with 
 which I, as a young man, greeted 
 him, meant no disrespect to an 
 honored citizen, whose costume 
 was out of date, but whose pa- 
 triotism never changed with years. 
 I do not recall any earlier ex- 
 ample of this form of verse, which 
 was commended by the fastidious 
 Edgar Allan Poe, who made a 
 copy of the whole poem, which I 
 have in his own handwriting. 
 Good Abraham Lincoln had a 
 great liking for the poem, and re- 
 peated it from memory to Gov- 
 ernor Andrew, as the governor 
 himself told me. 
 
 1SAW him once before, 
 As he passed by the door, 
 And again 
 The pavement stones resound, 
 As he totters o'er the ground 
 With his cane. 
 
80 STEPPINa STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 They said that in his prime, 
 Ere the pruning knife of Time 
 
 Cut him down, 
 Not a better man was found 
 By the crier on his round 
 
 Through the town. 
 
 But now he waits the streets. 
 And he looks at all he meets 
 
 Sad and wan. 
 And he shakes his feeble head. 
 That it seems as if he said, 
 
 "They are gone." 
 
 The mossy marbles rest 
 
 On the lips that he has pressed 
 
 In their bloom. 
 And the names he loved to hear 
 Have been carved for many a year 
 
 On the tomb. 
 
 My grandmamma has said — 
 Poor old lady she is dead 
 
 Long ago — 
 That he had a Roman nose. 
 And his cheek was like a rose 
 
 In the snow. 
 
 But now his nose is thin. 
 It rests upon his chin 
 
 Like a staff. 
 And a crook is in his back. 
 And a melancholy crack 
 
 In his laugh. 
 
THE RACE OF THE OREGON. 81 
 
 I know it is a sin 
 For me to sit and grin 
 
 At him here; 
 But the old three-cornered hat, 
 Ai<d the breeches, and all that, 
 
 Are so queer I 
 
 And if I should live to be 
 The last leaf upon the tree 
 
 In the spring, 
 Let them smile, as I do now, 
 At the old forsaken bough 
 
 Where I cling. 
 
 XV. THE RACE OF THE OREGON.' 
 
 By John James Meehan. 
 
 LIGHTS out I And a prow turned toward the South, 
 And a canvas hiding each cannon's mouth; 
 And a ship, like a silent ghost released. 
 Is seeking her sister sliips in the East. 
 
 A rush of water, a foaming trail. 
 An ocean hound in a coat of mail, 
 A deck long-lined with the lines of fate, 
 She roars good-by at the Golden Gate. 
 
 On I On I Alone without gong or bell. 
 But a burning fire, like the fire of hell. 
 Till the lookout starts as his glasses show 
 The white cathedral at Callao. 
 
 I The run of the "Oregon," Captain Charles E. Clarb, from San Francisco to Florida— 
 14, TOO miles in sixty-five days ~ is one of the wonders in the history of the American navy. 
 Ifewly buQt at San Francisco, she was ordered to the North Atlantic, by way of Cape Horn, in 
 the spring of 189S, as soon as war with Spain looked imminent. She kept at her best speed, 
 expecting attack, yet such was the remarkable skill and care of her engineers that her 
 machinery was not even strained. In the great battle of July 3, though rated only as a 
 14-knot battleship, the " Oregon's " machinery was so perfect and so finely handled that 
 •be kept pace with cruisers of a much swifter class. 
 
SS STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 A moment's halt 'neath the slender spire, 
 Food, food for the men and food for the fire; 
 Then out in the sea to rest no more. 
 Till her keel is grounded on Chile's shore. 
 
 South! South! God guard through the unknown wave, 
 Where chart nor compass may help or save. 
 Where the hissing wraiths of the sea abide 
 And few may pass through the stormy tide. 
 
 North! North! For a harbor far away, 
 For another breath in the burning day; 
 
 For a moment's shelter from speed and pain, 
 And a prow to the tropic sea again. 
 
 Home I Home ! With the mother fleet to sleep, 
 Till the call shall rise o'er the awful deep; 
 And the bell shall clang for the battle there. 
 And the voice of guns is the voice of prayer! 
 
 One more to the songs of the bold and free, 
 I When your children gather about your knee; 
 When the Goths and Vandals come down in might 
 As they came to the walls of Rome one night; 
 When the lordly William of Deloraine 
 Shall ride by the Scottish lake again; 
 When the Hessian specters shall flit in air 
 As Washington crosses the Delaware; 
 When the eyes of babes shall be closed in dread 
 As the story of Paul Revere is read; 
 When your boys shall ask what the guns are for, 
 Then tell them the tale of the Spanish war, 
 And the breathless millions that looked upon 
 The matchless race of the Oregon. 
 
LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 83 
 
 XVI. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN 
 NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 £t Felicia Dorothea Browne Hemans. 
 (1793-1835.) 
 
 THE breaking waves dashed high 
 On a stern and rock-bound coast, 
 And the woods against a stormy sky 
 
 Their giant branches tossed; 
 And the heavy night hung dark 
 
 The hills and waters o'er, 
 When a band of exiles moored their bark 
 On the wild New England shore. 
 
 Not as the conqueror comes, 
 
 They, the true-hearted, came; 
 Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 
 
 And the trumpet that sings of fame; 
 Not as the flying come. 
 
 In silence and in fear ; — 
 They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
 
 With their hymns of lofty cheer. 
 
 Amidst the storm they sang, 
 
 And the stars heard, and the sea; 
 And the sounding aisles of the dim wood rang 
 
 To the anthem of the free! 
 The ocean eagle soared 
 
 From his nest by the white wave's foam; 
 And the rocking pines of the forest roared — 
 
 This was their welcome home' 
 
84 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 There were men with hoary hair 
 
 Amidst that pilgrim band : — 
 Why had they come to wither there, 
 
 Away from their childhood's land? 
 There was woman's fearless eye, 
 
 Lit by her deep love's truth; 
 .There was manhood's brow serenely high, 
 
 And the fiery heart of youth. 
 
 What sought they thus afar? 
 
 Bright jewels of the mine? 
 The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 
 
 They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 
 
 CANOPY OVKK PLYMOUTH BOCK. 
 
 ■• All, call it holy ground. 
 The soil where Jinti they trod." 
 
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 86 
 
 Ay, call it holy ground, 
 
 The soil where first they trod. 
 They have left unstained what there they found — 
 
 Freedom to worship God. 
 
 XVII. BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 By Julia Ward Howe. 
 (1819- .) 
 
 MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of 
 the Lord; 
 He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of 
 
 wrath are stored; 
 He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift 
 
 sword ; 
 
 His truth is marching on. 
 
 I have seen him in the watch fires of a hundred circling 
 camps ; 
 
 They have builded him an altar in the evening dews 
 and damps; 
 
 I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flar- 
 ing lamps; 
 
 His day is marching on. 
 
 I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of 
 
 steel: 
 "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace 
 
 shall deal; 
 Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with 
 
 his heel, 
 
 Since God is marchins' on." 
 
86 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 
 
 retreat ; 
 He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment 
 
 seat; 
 Ohl be swift, my soul, to answer him I be jubilant, my 
 
 feet! 
 
 Our God is marching on. 
 
 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was bom across the sea, 
 With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me : 
 As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men 
 free, 
 
 While God is marching on. 
 
 XVIII, THE AMERICAN FLAG. 
 
 By Joseph Rodman Drake. 
 (1795-1820.) 
 
 WHEN freedom, from her mountain height, 
 Unfurl'd her standard to the air. 
 She tore the azure robe of night. 
 
 And set the stars of glory there! 
 She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
 The milky baldric of the skies. 
 And striped its pure celestial white 
 With streakings of the morning light; 
 Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
 She call'd her eagle bearer down, 
 And gave into his mighty hand 
 The symbol of her chosen land' 
 
THE AMERICAN FLAG. 87 
 
 Majestic monarch of the cloud! 
 
 Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
 To hear the tempest-tramping loud, 
 And see the lightning-lances driven, 
 
 When stride the warriors of the storm, 
 And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven I 
 Child of the Sun I to thee 'tis given 
 
 To guard the banner of the free, 
 To hover in the sulphur smoke, 
 To ward away the battle stroke, 
 And bid its blendings shine afar. 
 Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
 
 The harbingers of victory I 
 
 Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, 
 The sign of hope and triumph high! 
 When speaks the signal trumpet-tone, 
 And the long line comes gleaming on 
 (Ere yet the lifeblood, warm and wet. 
 Has dimm'd the glist'ning bayonet). 
 Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
 To where thy meteor-glories burn. 
 And, as his springing steps advance, 
 Catch war and vengeance from, the glance I 
 And -when the cannon-mouthings loud 
 Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud. 
 And gory sabers rise and fall, 
 Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall! 
 There shall thy victor-glances glow, 
 
 And cowering foes shall sink beneath 
 Each gallant arm that strikes below. 
 
 That lovely messenger of death. 
 
88 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 THE STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 Flag of the seas ! On ocean's wave 
 Thy star shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
 When Death, careering on the gale. 
 Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 
 And frightened waves rush wildly back 
 Before the broadside's reeling rack. 
 The dying wanderer of the sea 
 Shall look, at once, to heaven and thee, 
 And smile, to see thy splendors fly, 
 lu triumph, o'er his closing eye. 
 
HAIL, COLUMBIA! HAPPY LAND. 89 
 
 Flag of the free heart's only home, 
 
 By angel hands to valor given I 
 Thy stars have lit the welkin dome 
 
 And all thy hues were born in heaven I 
 Forever float that standard sheet I 
 
 Where breathes the foe but falls before us? 
 With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 
 
 And Freedom's banner streaming o'er usl 
 
 H 
 
 XIX. HAIL, COLUMBIA 1 HAPPY LAND. 
 
 By Joseph Hopkinson. 
 (1770-1842.) 
 
 AIL, Columbia I happy land I 
 Hail, ye heroes! heaven-bom band! 
 Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, 
 Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, 
 And, when the storm of war was gone. 
 Enjoyed the peace your valor won. 
 Let independence be our boast, 
 Ever mindful what it cost; 
 Ever grateful for the prize, 
 Let its altar reach the skies ! 
 Chorus. — Finn, united let us be, 
 
 Rallying round our Liberty I 
 As a band of brothers Joined, 
 Peace and safety we shall find. 
 
 Lnmortal patriots! rise once more: 
 Defend your rights, defend your shore ; 
 Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
 Let no rude foe, with impious hand. 
 
90 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Invade the shrine where sacred lies 
 Of toil and blood the well-earned prize ! 
 While off'ring peace sincere and just, 
 In Heaven we place a manly trust, 
 That truth and justice shall prevail, 
 And every scheme of bondage fail. 
 
 Sound, sound the trump of Fame! 
 
 Let Washington's great name 
 
 Ring through the world with loud applause, 
 
 Ring through the world with loud applause ! 
 
 Let every clime to Freedom dear 
 
 Listen with a joyful ear! 
 
 With equal skill and godlike power 
 
 He governs in the fearful hour 
 
 Of horrid war; or guides with ease 
 
 The happier times of honest peace. 
 
 Behold the chief who now commands. 
 Once more to serve his country stands, — 
 The rock on which the storm will beat. 
 The rock on which the storm will beat! 
 But, armed in virtue firm and true. 
 His hopes are fixed on Heaven and you. 
 When hope was sinking in dismay. 
 And glooms obscured Columbia's day, 
 His steady mind, from changes free. 
 Resolved on death or liberty. 
 
 Chorus. — Firm, united let us be. 
 Rallying round our Liberty; 
 As a band of brothers joined. 
 Peace and safety we shall find. 
 
JONATHAN SWIFT. 
 
 91 
 
 XX. JONATHAN SWIFT. 
 
 JONATHAN SWIFT. 
 
 T 
 
 (1667-1745.) 
 
 HERE lived in 
 Great Britain 
 many years ago, in 
 good Queen Anne's 
 time, a man named 
 Jonathan Swift, a 
 very able man, but of 
 a very unhappy dispo- 
 sition. He was usu- 
 ally in a quarrel with 
 somebody, and was al- 
 most always wretched 
 because he had failed 
 to get something that 
 he wanted ; and, very 
 foolishly, instead of 
 looking within him- 
 self to find the trou- 
 ble, and then setting 
 to work to correct it, he grew sour and morose, and 
 thought all the world bad. 
 
 Through influence he obtained a living, or parish, and 
 was for a time rector; he was also Dean of St. Patrick's, in 
 Dublin, thereby acquiring the title by which he is commonly 
 known ; but most of his life was devoted to literature. 
 
 He wrote some very brilliant books, but they were nearly 
 all bitter satires, in which he ridiculed people in general. 
 
92 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 es|)ecially those with whom he had quarreled. His most 
 famous book is called "Gulliver's Travels," describing 
 various imaginary jcmmeys of his hero, Gulliver, to strange 
 lands. In one of these, Gulliver found the inhabitants to 
 be little people only two or three inches high, who looked 
 upon him as an immense giant, and called him the man- 
 mountain. In another the people were all giants, who 
 looked upon Gulliver as an amusing insect. In one place 
 the people were horses, and beings like men were merely 
 beasts. The selection which follows is taken from Gulii 
 ver's " A Voyage to Lilliput," the land of little people. 
 
 XXI. A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 
 
 By Dean Swift. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was 
 the third of five sons. He sent me to Emmanuel 
 College in Cambridge at fourteen yeara old, where I resided 
 three years and applied myself close to my studies; but 
 the charge of maintaining me, although I had a very scanty 
 allowance, being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound 
 apprentice to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in Lon- 
 don, with whom I continued four years. And my father now 
 and then sending me small sums of money, I laid them out 
 in learning navigation and other parts of the mathematics 
 useful to those who intend to travel, as I always believed it 
 would be some time or other my fortune to do. 
 
 When I left Mr. Bates I went down to my father, where, 
 by the assistance of him iinJ my Undo John and some 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 03 
 
 other relations, I got forty pounds and a promise of thirty 
 pounds a year to maintain me at Leyden; there I studied 
 physic two years and seven months, knowing it would be 
 useful to me in long voyages. 
 
 Soon after my return from Leyden I was recommended 
 by my good master, Mr. Bates, to be surgeon to the " Swal- 
 low," Captain Abraham Pannell commander, with whom I 
 continued three years and a half, making a voyage or two 
 into the Levant^ and some other parts. 
 
 When I came back I resolved to settle in London, to 
 which Mr. Bates, my master, encouraged me ; and by him I 
 was recommended to several patients. I took part of a 
 small house in the Old Jewry, ^ and being advised to alter 
 my condition, I married Miss Mary Burton, second daughter 
 to Mr. Edmund Burton, hosier in Newgate Street, with 
 whom I received four hundred pounds for a portion. 
 
 But my good master Bates dying in two years after, and I 
 having few friends, my business began to fail ; for my con- 
 science would not suffer me to imitate the bad practice of 
 too many among my brethren. Having, therefore, consulted 
 with my wife and some of my acquaintance, I determined 
 to go again to sea. 
 
 I was surgeon successively in two ships, and made several 
 voyages for six years to the East and West Indies, by which 
 I got some addition to my fortune. My hours of leisure 
 I spent in reading the best authors, ancient and modern, — 
 being always provided with a good number of books, — and 
 •when I was ashore, in observing the manners and disposi- 
 tions of tfcs people, as well as learning their language, 
 
 » The Levant, the eastern coast region of the Mediterranean. 
 8 The Old Jewt y A section ot London where the Jews formerJ; 
 lived. 
 
0t STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK 
 
 wherein I had a great facility by the strength of my 
 
 "' The last of these voyages not proving.very fortunate, I grew 
 weary of the sea, and intended to stay at home with my wife 
 and family. I removed from the Old Jewry to Fetter Lane, 
 and from thence to Wapping, hoping to get business among 
 the sailors ; but it would not turn to account. After three 
 years' expectation that things would mend, I accepted an 
 advantageous offer from Captain William Prichard, master 
 of the " Antelope," who was making a voyage to the South 
 Sea. We set sail from Bristol, May 4th, and our voyage at 
 first was very prosperous. 
 
 It would not be proper, for some reasons, to trouble the 
 reader with the particulars of our adventures in those seas ; 
 let it suffice to inform him that, in our passage from thence 
 to the East Indies, we were driven by a violent storm to the 
 northwest of Van Diemen's Land.^ By an observation we 
 found ourselves in the latitude of thirty degrees two minutes 
 BoutL Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate labor 
 and Ul food ; the rest were in a very weak condition. On 
 the 5th of November, which was the beginning of summer 
 in those parts, the weather being very hazy, the seamen 
 spied a rock within half a cable's length of the ship ; but 
 the wind was so strong that we were driven directly upon it 
 and immediately split. 
 
 Six of the crew, of whom I was one, having let down the 
 boat into the sea, made a shift to get clear of the ship and 
 the rock. We rowed, by my computation, about three 
 leagues, till we were able to work no longer, being already 
 spent with labor while we were in the ship. We therefore 
 trusted ourselves to the mercy of the waves ; and in about 
 > Van Diemen's Land, uow called Tasmania. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 95 
 
 half an hour the boat was overset by a sudden flurry from 
 the north. 
 
 What became of my companions in the boat, as well as 
 of those who escaped on the rock or were left in the vessel, 
 I cannot tell, but conclude they were aU lost. For my own 
 part, I swam as fortune directed me, and was pushed for- 
 ward by wind and tide. I often let my legs drop, and could 
 feel no bottom ; but when I was almost gone, and able to 
 struggle no longer, I found myself within my depth, and 
 by this time the storm was much abated. 
 
 The declivity was so small that I walked near a mile 
 before I got to the shore, which I conjectured was about 
 eight o'clock in the evening. I then advanced forward 
 near half a mile, but could not discover any sign of houses 
 or inhabitants ; at least I was in so weak a condition that 
 I did not observe them. I was extremely tired ; and with 
 that and the heat of the weather, I found myself much in- 
 clined to sleep. 
 
 I lay down on the grass, which was very short and soft, 
 where I slept sounder than ever I remembered to have done 
 in my life, and, as I reckoned, about nine hours ; for when 
 I awaked it was just daylight. I attempted to rise, but 
 was not able to stir ; for as I happened to lie on my back, I 
 found my arms and legs were strongly fastened on each side 
 to the ground ; and my hair, which was long and thick, 
 tied down in the same manner. I likewise felt several 
 slender ligatures across my body, from my armpits to my 
 thighs. I could only look upward ; the sun began to grow 
 hot and the light offended my eyes. 
 
 I heard a confused noise about me, but in the posture in 
 which I lay, could see nothing except the sky. In a little 
 time I felt something alive moving on my left leg, which, 
 
96 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATtTRE. 
 
 advancing gently forward over my breast, came allnost up 
 to my chin; when, bending my eyes downward as much 
 as I could, I perceived it to be a human creature, not six 
 inches high, with bow and arrow in his hands and a quiver 
 at his_back. 
 
 — ^lu the mean time I felt at least forty more of the same 
 kind (as I conjectured) following the first. I was in the 
 utmost astonishment, and roared so loud that they all ran 
 back in fright; and some of them, as I was afterward told, 
 were hurt by the falls they got by leaping from my sides 
 upon the ground. However, they soon returned, and one 
 of them, who ventured so far as to get a full sight of my 
 face, lifting up his hands and eyes by way of admiration, 
 cried out in a shrill but distinct voice, ^'ffekinah degul" 
 The others repeated the same words several times, but I 
 then knew not what they meant. 
 
 I lay all this while, as the reader may believe, in great 
 uneasiness. At length, struggling to get loose, I had the 
 fortune to break the strings and wrench out the pegs 
 that fastened my left arm to the ground, for, by lifting it 
 up to my face, I discovered the methods they had' taken 
 to bind me; and at the same time, with a violent pull, 
 which gave me excessive pain, I a little loosened the 
 strings that tied down my hair on the left side, so that 
 I was just able to turn my head about two inches. But 
 the creatures ran off a second time, before I could seize 
 them ; whereupon there was a great shout in a very shrill 
 accent, and after it had ceased I heard one of them cry 
 aloud, " Tolgo phonao!" when in an instant T felt above a 
 hundred arrows discharged on my left hand, which pricked 
 me like so many needles ; and besides they shot another 
 flight into the air, as we do bombs in Europe, whereof 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 07 
 
 many, I suppose, fell on my body (though 1 felt them 
 not), and some on my face, which I immediately covered 
 with my left hand. 
 
 When this shower of arrows was over I fell a-groaning 
 with grief and pain ; and then, striving again to get loose, 
 they discharged another volley larger than the first, and 
 some of them attempted with spears to stick me in the 
 sides ; but by good luck I had on me a buff jerkin, which 
 they could not pierce. I thought it the most prudent 
 method to lie still, and my design was to continue so till 
 night, when, my left hand being already loose, I could 
 easily free myself; and as for the inhabitants, I had 
 reason to believe that I might be a match for the greatest 
 army they could bring against me, if they were all of the 
 same size with him that I saw. But fortune disposed 
 otherwise of me. 
 
 When the people observed I was quiet, they discharged 
 no more arrows; but by the noise I heard I knew their 
 numbers increased, and about four yards from me, over 
 against my right ear, T heard a knocking for above an 
 hour, like that of people at work ; when, turning my head 
 that way, as well as the pegs and strings would permit 
 me, I saw a stage erected about a foot and a half from 
 the ground, capable of holding four of the inhabitants, 
 with two or three ladders to mount it; from whence one 
 of them, who seemed to be a person of quality, made me 
 a long speech, whereof I understood not a syllable. 
 
 But I should have mentioned that before the principal 
 person began his oration he cried out three times, " Langro 
 deJiul 8an " (these words and the former were afterward 
 repeated and explained to me). Whereupon, immediately 
 about fifty of the inhabitants came and cut the string that 
 
98 STEPPINC* STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 fastened the left side of my head, which gave me the 
 liberty of turning it to the right, and of observing the 
 -person and gesture of him that was to speak. He appeared 
 to be of middle age, and taller than any of the other three 
 who attended him ; whereof one was a page that held up 
 his train, and seemed to be somewhat longer than my 
 middle finger; the other two stood one on each side to 
 support him. He acted every part of an orator, and I 
 could observe many periods of threatenings, and others of 
 promises, pity, and kindness. I answered in a few words, 
 but in the most submissive manner, lifting up my left hand 
 and both my eyes to the sun as calling him for a witness ; 
 and being almost famished with hunger, not having eaten 
 a morsel for some hours before I left the ship, I found the 
 demands of nature so strong upon me that I could not for- 
 bear showing my impatience by putting my finger fre- 
 quency to my mouth to signify that I wanted food. 
 
 The hurgo (for so they call a great lord, as I afterward 
 learned) understood me very well. He descended from 
 the stage, and commanded that several laddeis should be 
 applied to my sides, on which above a hundred of the 
 Inhabitants mounted, and walked toward my mouth, laden 
 with baskets full of meat, which had been provided and 
 sent thither by the king's orders, upon the first intelli- 
 gence he received of me. I observed there was the flesh 
 of several animals, but could not distinguish them by the 
 taste. 
 
 ^There were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those 
 of mutton, and very well dressed, but smaller than the 
 wings of a lark. I ate them by two or three at a mouth- 
 ful, and took three loaves at a time about the bigness of 
 musket bullets. They supplied me as fast as they could, 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 99 
 
 showing a thousand marks of wonder and astonishment at 
 my bulk and appetite. 
 
 I then made another sign that I wanted drink. They 
 found by my eating that a small quantity would not suffice 
 me; and being a most ingenious people, they slung up 
 with great dexterity one of their largest hogsheads, then 
 rolled.it towards my hand and beat out the top. I drank 
 it off at a draught, which I might weU do, for it did not 
 hold half a pint, and tasted like a small wine of Burgundy, 
 but much more delicious. They brought me a second 
 hogshead, which I drank in the same manner, and made 
 signs for more ; but they had none to give me. When I 
 had performed these wonders, they shouted for joy, and 
 danced upon my breast, repeating several times, as they 
 did at first, " Hekinah degul." They made me a sign that 
 I should throw down the two hogsheads, but first warning 
 the people below to stand out of the way, crying aloud 
 " Boraoh mevolah I " and when they saw the vessels in the 
 air there was a universal shout of ''^Hekinah degul f* 
 I confess I was often tempted, while they were pass- 
 ing backward and forward on my body, to seize forty or 
 fifty of the first that came in my reach and dash them 
 against the ground. But the remembrance of what I 
 had' felt, which probably might not be the worst they could 
 do, and the promise of honor I made to them — tor so I 
 interpreted my submissive behavior — soon di-ove out these 
 imaginations. 
 
 Besides, I now considered myself as bound by the laws 
 of hospitality to a people who had treated me with so much 
 expense and magnificence. However, in my thoughts I 
 could not suificiently wonder at the intrepidity of these 
 diminutive mortals, who durst venture to mount and walk 
 
100 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 upon my body while one of my hands was at liberty, with- 
 out trembling at the very sight of so prodigious a creature 
 as I must appear to them. 
 
 After some time, when they observed that I made no 
 more demands for meat, there appeared before me a person 
 of high rank from his imperial majesty. His excellency 
 having mounted on the small of my right leg, advanced 
 forward up to my face, with about a dozen of his retinue, 
 and producing his credentials under the signet royal, which 
 he applied close to my eyes, spoke about ten minutes with- 
 out any signs of anger but with a kind of determinate 
 resolutioii, often pointing forward, which, as I afterward 
 found, was toward the capital city, about half a mile dis- 
 tant, whither it was agreed by his majesty in council that 
 I must be conveyed. 
 
 I answered in few words, but to no purpose, and made a 
 sign with my hand that was loose, putting it to the other 
 (but over his excellency's head for fear of hurting him or 
 his train), and then to my own head and body, to signify 
 that I desired my liberty. 
 
 It appeared that he understood me well enough, for he 
 shook his head by way of disapprobation, and held his 
 hands in a posture to show that I must be carried as a 
 prisoner. However, he made other signs to let me under- 
 stand that I should have meat and drink enough, and very 
 good treatment. Whereupon I once more thought of at- 
 tempting to break my bonds; but again, when I felt the 
 smart of their arrows upon my face and hands, which were 
 all in blisters, and many of the darts still sticking in them, 
 and observing likewise that the number of my enemies 
 increased, I gave tokens to let them know that they might 
 do with me what they pleased. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT 101 
 
 Upon this the hurgo and his train withdrew, with much 
 civility and cheerful countenances. Soon after, I heard a 
 general shout, with frequent repetitions of the words, " Feb- 
 lorn selam ; " and I felt great numbers of people on my left 
 side, relaxing the cords to such a degree that I was able to 
 turn upon my right. But before this they had daubed my 
 face and both my hands with a sort of ointment, very pleasant 
 to the smell, which in a few minutes removed all the smart 
 of their arrows. i 
 
 These circumstances, added to the refreshment I had re- 
 ceived by their victuals and drink, which were very nour- 
 ishing, disposed me to sleep. I slept about eight hours, as 
 I was afterwards assured; and it was no wonder, for the 
 physicians, by the emperor's order, had mingled a sleepy 
 potion in the hogsheads of wine. 
 
 ^It seems that upon the first moment I was discovered 
 sleeping on the ground, after my landing, the emperor had 
 early notice of it by an express, and determined in council 
 that I should be tied in the manner I have related (which 
 was done in the night while I slept), that plenty of meat 
 and drink should be sent me, and a machine prepared to 
 carry me to the capital city. This resolution perhaps may 
 appear very bold and dangerous, and, I am confident, would 
 not be imitated by any prince in Europe on the like occa- 
 sion. However, in my opinion it was extremely prudent, 
 as well as generous ; for supposing these people had en- 
 deavored to kill me with their spears and arrows, while I 
 was asleep, I should certainly have awakened with the first 
 sense of smart, which might have so far aroused my rage 
 and strength as to enable me to break the strings where- 
 with I was tied ; after which, as they were not able to 
 make resistance, so they could expect no mercy. 
 
102 STEPPING STONES TO LITEBATURK 
 
 These people are most excellent mathematicians, and 
 arrived to a great perfection in mechanics by the coun- 
 tenance and encouragement of the emperor, who is a 
 renowned patron of learning. This prince has several 
 machines fixed on wheels, for the carriage of trees and other 
 great weights. He often builds his largest men-of-war — 
 whereof some are nine feet long — in the woods where the 
 timber grows, and has them carried on these engines three 
 or four hundred yards to the sea. 
 
 Five hundred carpenters and engineers were immediately 
 set at work to prepare the greatest engine they had. It 
 was a frame of wood raised three inches from the ground, 
 seven feet long and four wide, moving upon twenty-two 
 wheels. The shout I heard was upon the arrival of this 
 engine, which it seems set out iu four hours after my 
 landing. 
 
 It was brought parallel to me as I lay. But the principal 
 difficulty was to raise and place me in this vehicle. Eighty 
 poles, each of one foot high, were erected for this purpose, 
 and very strong cords of the bigness of pack thread were 
 fastened by hooks to many bandages, which the workmen 
 had girt round my neck, my hands, my body, and my legs. 
 Nine hundred of the strongest men were employed to draw 
 up these cords by many pulleys fastened on the poles ; 
 and thus in less than three hours I was raised and slung 
 into the engine, and there tied fast. All this I was told; 
 for, while the operation was performing, I lay in a pro- 
 found sleep, by the force of that soporiferous medicine 
 infused into my liquor. Fifteen hundred of the emperor's 
 largest horses, each about four inches and a half high, were 
 employed to draw me toward the metropolis, which, as I 
 said, was half a mile distant. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 103 
 
 About four hours after we began our journey I was 
 awaked by a very ridiculous accident; for, the carriage 
 being stopped awhile to adjust something that was out of 
 order, two or three of the young natives had the curiosity 
 to see how I looked when I was asleep. They climbed up 
 into the engine, and, advancing very softly to my face, one 
 of them, an officer in the guards, put the sharp end of liis 
 half-pike a good way up into my left nostril, which tickled 
 my nose like a straw, and made me sneeze violently; 
 whereupon they stole ojGf unper-ceivpd, and it was three 
 weeks before 1 knew the cause of my awaking so sud- 
 denly. We made a long march the remaining part of the 
 day, and rested at night with five hundred guards on each 
 side of me, half with torches, and half with bows and 
 arrows, ready to shoot me if I should offer to stir. The 
 next morning at sunrise we continued our march, and 
 arrived within two hundred yards of the city gates about 
 noon. The emperor and all his court came out to meet 
 as; but his great officers would by no means suffer his 
 majesty to endanger his person by mounting on my body. 
 
 At the place where the carriage stopped there stood an 
 ancient temple, esteemed to be the largest in the whole 
 kingdom, which, having been polluted some years before 
 by an unnatural murder, was, according to the zeal of those 
 people, looked upon as profane, and therefore had been ap- 
 plied to common use, and all the ornaments and furniture 
 carried away. In this edifice it was determined I should 
 lodge. The great gate fronting to the north was about 
 four feet high, and almost two feet wide, through which I 
 could easily creep. On each side, of the gate was a small 
 window not above six inches from the ground ; into that, on 
 the left side, the king's smith conveyed fourscore and eleven 
 
104 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 chains, like those that hang to a lady's watch in Europe, 
 and almost as large, which were locked to my left leg with 
 six-and-thirty padlocks. Over against this temple, on the 
 other side of the great highway, at twenty feet distance, 
 there was a turret at least five feet high. Here the em- 
 peror ascended, with many principal lords of his court, to 
 have an opportunity of viewing me, as I was told, for I 
 could not see them. It was reckoned that above an hun- 
 dred thousand inhabitants came out of the town upon the 
 same errand; and, in spite of my guards, I believe there 
 could not be fewer than ten thousand, at several times, 
 who mounted my body by the help of ladders. But a 
 proclamation was soon issued to forbid it upon pain of 
 death. 
 
 When the workmen found it was impossible for me to 
 break loose, they cut all the strings that bound me ; where- 
 upon I rose up, with as melancholy a disposition as ever I 
 had in my life. But the noise and astonishment of the 
 people at seeing me rise and walk are not to be expressed. 
 The chains that held my left leg were about two yards 
 long, and gave me not only the liberty of walking back- 
 ward and forward in a semicircle, but, being fixed within 
 four inches of the gate, allowed me to creep in and lie at 
 my full length in the temple. 
 
 . CHAPTER n. 
 
 TT THEN I found myself on my feet, I looked about me, 
 ^ " and must confess I never beheld a more entertaining 
 prospect. The country around appeared like a continued 
 garden, and the inclosed fields, which were generally forty 
 feet square, resembled so many beds of flowers. These 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 105 
 
 fields were intenningled with woods of lialf a stang, and 
 the tallest trees, as I could judge, appeared to be seTen feet 
 high. I viewed the town on my left hand, which looked 
 like the painted scene of a city in a theater. 
 
 I had been for some hours extremely tired, however, so 
 I crept into my house and shut the door after me. But it 
 was of no use to try to get rid of so much company. I had 
 to come out again, and to get a little change by stepping 
 backward and forward as far as my chains allowed. 
 
 I soon found that the emperor had descended from the 
 tower, and advancing on horseback toward me, which had 
 liked to have cost him dear, for the beast, though very 
 well-trained, yet wholly unused to such a sight, which ap- 
 peared as if a mountain moved before him, reared up on his 
 hinder feet; but that prince, who is an excellent horseman, 
 kept his seat till his attendants ran in and held the bridle, 
 while his majesty had time to dismount. 
 
 When he alighted he surveyed me round with great ad- 
 miration, but kept beyond the length of my chain. He 
 ordered his cooks and butlers, who were already prepared, 
 to give me victuals and drink, which they pushed forward 
 in a sort of vehicles upon wheels till I could reach them. 
 
 I took these vehicles and soon emptied them all. Twenty 
 of them were fiUed with meat and ten with liquor ; each of 
 the former afforded me two or three good mouthfuls, and 
 I emptied the liquor of ten vessels which was contained in 
 earthen vials into one vehicle, drinking it off at a draught, 
 and so I did with the rest. 
 
 The empress and young princes of the blood of both 
 sexes, attended by many ladies, sat at some distance in their 
 chairs; but upon the accident that happened to the em- 
 peror's horse, they alighted and came near his person, which 
 
106 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 I am now going to describe. He is taller by almost the 
 breadth of my nail than any of his court, which alone is 
 enough to strike an awe into the beholders. His features 
 are strong and masculine, with an Austrian lip and arched 
 nose ; his complexion oliye, his countenance erect, his body 
 and limbs well proportioned, all his motions graceful, and 
 his deportment majestic. He was then past his prime, 
 
 being twenty-eight years and three 
 quarters old, of which he had 
 reigned about seven, in great feli- 
 city, and generally victorious. 
 
 For the better convenience of 
 beholding him, I lay on my side, 
 so that my face was parallel to 
 <^ his, and he stood but three yards 
 off; however, I have had him 
 since many times in my hand, and 
 therefore cannot be deceived in 
 the description. His dress was 
 very plain and simple, and the 
 fashion of it between the Asiatic 
 and the European ; but he had on 
 his head a light helmet of gold, 
 adorned with jewels, and a plume 
 on the crest. He held his sword 
 drawn in his hand, to defend him- 
 self if I should happen to break loose : it was almost three 
 inches long ; the hilt and scabbard were gold, enriched with 
 diamonds. 
 
 His voice was shrill, but very clear and articulate, and I 
 could distinctly hear it when I stood up. 
 
 The ladies and courtiers were all most magnificently 
 
 GULLrVEE AND THE PTGMT. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILUPUT. 107 
 
 clad ; so that the spot they stood upon seemed to resemble 
 a petticoat spread on the ground, embroidered with figures 
 of gold and silver. His imperial majesty spoke often to me, 
 and I returned answers ; but neither of us could understand 
 a syllable. There were several of his priests and lawyers 
 present (as I conjectured by their habits), who were com- 
 manded to address themselves to me, and I spoke to them 
 in as many languages as I had the least smattering of, 
 which were High and Low Dutch, Latin, French, Spanish, 
 Italian, and Lingua Franca ; ^ but all to no purpose. 
 
 After about two hours the court retired, and I was left 
 with a strong guard to prevent the impertinence, and prob- 
 ably the malice, of the rabble, who were very impatient to 
 crowd about me as near as they durst, and some of them had 
 the impudence to shoot their arrows at me as I sat on the 
 ground by the door of my house, whereof one very narrowly 
 missed my left eye. But the colonel ordered six of the ring- 
 leaders to be seized, and thought no punishment so proper 
 as to deliver them bound into my hands, which some of his 
 soldiers accordingly did, pushing them forward with the 
 butt ends of their pikes into my reach. I took them all in 
 my right hand, put five of them into my coat pocket, and as 
 to the sixth I made a countenance as if I would eat him 
 alive. The poor man squalled terribly, and the colonel and 
 his officers were in much pain when they saw me take out 
 my penknife ; but I soon put them out of fear, for, looking 
 mildly and immediately cutting the strings he was bound 
 with, I set him gently on the ground, and away he ran. I 
 treated the rest in the same manner, taking them one by 
 one out of my pocket, and I observed both the soldiers and 
 
 * Lingua Franca, literally the language of the Franks, here used as 
 a jargon or dialect employed understandingly between various nations. 
 
108 STEPPING STONES TO LITEBATUBK 
 
 people were highly delighted at thia mark of my clemency, 
 which was represented very much to my advantage at 
 court. 
 
 Toward night I got with some difficulty into my house, 
 where I lay on the ground, and continued to do so about a 
 fortnight, during which time the emperor gave orders to 
 have "a bed prepared for me. Six hundred beds of the com- 
 mon measure were brought in carriages and worked up in 
 my house ; a hundred and fifty of their beds sewn together 
 made up the breadth and length, and these were four double, 
 which, however, kept me but very indifferently from the 
 hardness of the floor, that was of smooth stone. By the 
 same computation they provided me with sheets, blankets, 
 and coverlets, tolerable enough for one who had been so 
 long inured to hardships. 
 
 As the news of my arrival spread through the kingdom, 
 it brought prodigious numbers of rich, idle, and curious 
 people to see me, so that the villages were almost emptied; 
 and great neglect of tillage and household affairs must have 
 ensued if his imperial majesty had not provided, by several 
 proclamations and orders of state, against this inconveniency. 
 He directed that those who had already beheld me should 
 return home, and not presume to come within fifty yards of 
 my house without license from the court; whereby the 
 secretaries of state got considerable fees. 
 
 In the mean time the emperor held frequent councils to 
 debate what course should be taken with me ; and I was 
 afterward assured by a particular friend, a person of great 
 quality, who was as much in the secret as any, that the 
 court was under many difficulties concerning me. They 
 apprehended my -breaking loose; that my diet would be 
 very expensive, and might cause a famine. Sometimes 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 109 
 
 they determined to starve me, or at least to shoot me in the 
 face and hands with poisoned arrows, which would soon 
 dispatch me ; but again they considered that the stench ol 
 so large a carcass might produce a plague in the metropolis, 
 and probably spread throughout the whole kingdom. 
 
 In the midst of these consultations several officers of the 
 army went to the door of the great council chamber, and, 
 two of them being admitted, gave an account of my be- 
 havior to the six criminals above mentioned, which made so 
 favorable an impression in the breast of his majesty and 
 the whole board, in my behalf, that an imperial commission 
 was issued out obliging all the villages nine hundred yards 
 round the city to deliver in every morning six beeves, forty 
 sheep, and other victuals for my sustenance, together with 
 a proportionable quantity of bread and wine and other 
 liquors, for the due payment of which his majesty gave 
 assignments upon his treasury, — for this prince lives chiefly 
 upon his own demesnes, seldom, except upon great occa- 
 sions, raising any subsidies upon his subjects, who are bound 
 to attend him in his wars at their own expense. 
 
 An establishment was also made of six hundred persons 
 to be my domestics, who had board-wages allowed for their 
 maintenance, and tents built for them very conveniently on 
 each side of my door. It was likewise ordered that three 
 hundred tailors should make me a suit of clothes after the 
 fashion of the country; that six of his majesty's greatest 
 scholars should be employed to instruct me in their language ; 
 and lastly that the emperor's horses and those of the nobility 
 and troops of guards should be frequently exercised in my 
 sight, to accustom them to me. All these orders were duly 
 put in execution ; and in about three weeks I made a great 
 progress in learning their language, during which time the 
 
110 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 emperor frequently honored me with his visits, and was 
 pleased to assist my masters in teaching me. 
 
 We began already to converse together in some sort, and 
 the first words I learned were to express my desire " that 
 he would be pleased to give me my liberty;" which I every 
 day repeated on my knees. His answer, as I could appre- 
 hend it, was " that this must be a work of time, not to be 
 thought on without the advice of his council, and that first 
 I must lumos helminpesso desmar Ion emjposo, — that is, swear 
 a peace with him and his kingdom." However, he said 
 that I should be used with all kindness ; and he advised 
 me " to acquire by my patience and discreet behavior the 
 good opinion of himself and his subjects." He desired, " I 
 would not take it ill if he gave orders to certain proper 
 officers to search me ; for probably I might carry about me 
 several weapons, which must needs be dangerous things if 
 they answered the bulk of so prodigious a person." I said, 
 " His majesty should be satisfied ; for I was ready to strip 
 myself, and turn up my pockets before him." This I deliv- 
 ered, part in words and part in signs. He replied " that by 
 the laws of the kingdom I must be searched by two of his 
 officers ; that he knew this could not be done without my 
 consent and assistance, and he had so good au opinion of 
 my generosity and justice as to trust their persons in my 
 hands; that whatever they took from me should be re- 
 turned when I left the country, or paid for at the rate 
 which I would set upon them." I took up the two offi- 
 cers in my hands, put them first into my coat pockets and 
 then into every other pocket about me, except my two fobs 
 and another secret pocket which I had no mind should be 
 searched, wherein I had some little necessaries that were of 
 no consequence to any but myself. In one of my fobs there 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. Ill 
 
 w^as a silver watch, and in the other a small quantity of 
 gold hi a purse. These gentlemen, having pen, ink, and 
 paper about them, made an exact inventory of everything 
 they saw; and when they had done, desired I would set 
 them down, that they might deliver it to the emperor. 
 This inventory I afterward translated into English, and 
 is word for word as follows : — 
 
 " Imprimis^ in the right coat pocket of the great man- 
 mountain [for so I interpret the words ^ quinhus jlestrin''\, 
 after the strictest search, we found only one great piece of 
 coarse cloth, large enough to be a foot-cloth for your 
 majesty's chief room of state. In the left pocket we saw 
 a huge silver chest, with a cover of the same metal, which 
 we, the searchers, were not able to lift. We desired it 
 should be opened, and one of us stepping into it found 
 himself up to the mid-leg in a sort of dust, some part where- 
 of flying up to our faces set us both a-sneezing for several 
 times together. In his right waistcoat pocket we found 
 a prodigious bundle of white thin substances, folded one 
 over another about the bigness of three men, tied with 
 a strong cable, and marked with black figures which we 
 humbly conceive to be writings, every letter almost half as 
 large as the palm of our hands. In the left there was a 
 sort of engine, from the back of which were extended 
 twenty long poles, resembling the palisadoes before your 
 majesty's court; wherewith we conjecture the man-moun- 
 tain combs his head, for we did not always trouble him 
 with questions because we found it a great difficulty to 
 make him understand us. In the large pocket on the right 
 side of his middle cover [so I translate ' ranfu-lo,^ by which 
 they meant my breeches] we saw a hollow pillar of iron, 
 1 Im-pri'mis, in the first Dlace. 
 
lis STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 about the length of a man, fastened to a strong piece of 
 timber larger than the pillar; and upon one side of the 
 pillar were huge pieces of iron sticking out, cut into strange 
 figures, which we know not what to make of. In the left 
 pocke t another engine of the same kind. 
 
 "In the smaller pocket on the right side were several 
 round flat pieces of white and red metal, of different bulk ; 
 some of the white, which seemed to be silver, were so large 
 and heavy that my comrade and I could hardly lift them. 
 In the left pocket were two black pillars irregularly shaped : 
 we could not, without difficulty, reach the top of them as 
 we stood at the bottom of his pocket. One of them was 
 covered, and seemed all of a piece ; but at the upper end of 
 the other there appeared a white round substance, about 
 twice the bigness of our heads. Within each of these was 
 inclosed a prodigious plate of steel, which, by our orders, 
 we obliged him to show us, because we apprehended they 
 might be dangerous engines. He took them out of their 
 cases, and told us that in his own country his practice was 
 to shave his beard with one of these, and cut his meat with 
 the other. 
 
 "There were two pockets which we could not enter; 
 these he called his fobs ; they were two large slits cut into 
 the top of his middle cover. Out of the right fob hung a 
 great silver chain, with a wonderful kind of engine at the 
 bottom. We directed him to draw out whatever was at the 
 end of that chain, which appeared to be a globe, half silver 
 and half of some transparent metal ; for on the transparent 
 side we saw certain strange figures circular drawn, and 
 thought we could touch them, till we found our fingers 
 stopped by that lucid substance. He put this engine to our 
 eara, which made an incessant noise, like that of a water 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLEPUT. 113 
 
 mill ; and we conjecture it is either some unknown animal, 
 or the god that he worships ; but we are more inclined to 
 the latter opinion, because he assured us (if we understood 
 him right, for he expressed himself very imperfectly) that 
 he seldom did anything without consulting it. He called 
 it his oracle, and said it pointed out the time for every 
 action of his life. From the left fob he took out a net 
 almost large enough for a fisherman, but contrived to open 
 and shut like a purse, and which served him for the same 
 use : we found therein several massy pieces of yellow 
 metal, which, if they be real gold, must be of immense 
 value. 
 
 " Having thus, in obedience to your majesty's commands, 
 diligently searched all his pockets, we observed a girdle 
 about his waist, made of the hide of some prodigious ani- 
 mal, from which, on the left side, hung a sword of the 
 length of five men; and on the right a bag, or pouch, 
 divided into two cells, each cell capable of holding three of 
 your majesty's subjects. In one of these cells were several 
 globes, or balls, of a most ponderous metal, about the big- 
 ness of our heads, and required a strong hand to lift them; 
 the other cell contained a heap of certain black grains, but 
 of no great bulk or weight, for we could hold above fifty of 
 them in the palms of our hands. 
 
 " This is an exact inventory of what we found about the 
 body of the man-moimtain, who used us with great civility, 
 and due respect to your majesty's commission. Signed and 
 sealed on the fourth day of the eighty-ninth moon of your 
 
 majesty's auspicious reign. 
 
 " Clefrin 
 "Flessen Frelock. 
 " Marsi Frelock." 
 
114 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 When the inventory was read over to the emperor, he 
 directed me, although in very gentle terms, to deliver up 
 the several particulars. He first called for my scimiter, 
 which I took out, scabbard and all. In the mean time he 
 ordered three thousand of his choicest troops (who then at- 
 tended him), to surround me at a distance, with their bows 
 and arrows just ready to discharge ; but I did not observe 
 it, for mine eyes were wholly fixed upon his majesty. 
 
 He then desired me to draw my scimiter, which, although 
 it had got some rust by the sea water, was in most parts 
 exceeding bright. 
 
 I did so, and immediately all the troops gave a shout be- 
 tween terror and surprise ; for the sun shone clear, and the 
 reflection dazzled their eyes as I waved the scimiter to and 
 fro in my hand. His majesty, who is a most magnanimous 
 prince, was less daunted than I could expect; he ordered 
 me to return it into the scabbard, and cast it on the ground 
 as gently as I could, about six feet from the end of my 
 chain. 
 
 The next thing he demanded was one of the hollow iron 
 pillars, by which he meant my pocket pistols. 
 
 I drew it out, and, at his desire, as well as I could, ex- 
 pressed to him the use of it, and, charging it only with 
 powder, which, by the closeness of my pouch happened 
 to escape wetting in the sea (an inconvenience against 
 which all prudent mariners take special care to provide), I 
 first cautioned the emperor not to be afraid, and then I let 
 it off in the air. The astonishment here was much greater 
 than at the sight of the scimiter. Hundreds fell down as if 
 they had been struck dead ; and even the emperor, although 
 he stood his ground, could not recover himself for some 
 time. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. HO 
 
 I delivered up both my pistols in the same manner as I 
 had done my scimjter, and then my pouch of powder and 
 bullets, begging him that the former might be kept from 
 fire, for it would kindle with the smallest spark, and blow 
 up his imperial palace into the air. 
 
 J likewise delivered up my watch, which the emperor was 
 very curious to see, and commanded two of his tallest yeo- 
 men of the guards to bear it on a pole upon their shoulders, 
 as draymen in England do a barrel of ale. He was amazed 
 at the continual noise it made, and the motion of the min- 
 ute hand, which he could easily discern, for their sight is 
 much more acute then ours : he asked the opinion of his 
 learned men about it, which were various and remote, as the 
 reader may well imagine without my repeating ; although, 
 indeed, I could not very perfectly understand them, I then 
 gave up my silver and copper money, my purse with nine 
 large pieces 6f gold and some smaller ones, my knife and 
 razor, my comb and silver snuffbox, my handkerchief and 
 journal book. My scimiter, pistols, and pouch were con- 
 veyed in carriages to his majesty's stores ; but the rest of 
 my goods were returned me. 
 
 I had, as I before observed, one private pocket which 
 escaped their search, wherein there was a pair of spectacles 
 (which I sometimes use for the wealmess of mine eyes), a 
 pocket perspective, and some other little conveniences, 
 which, being of no consequence, to the emperor, I did not 
 think myself bound in honor to discover, and T apprehended 
 they might be lost or spoiled if I ventured them out of my 
 possession. 
 
116 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 CHAPTEE ni. 
 
 MY gentleness and good behavior had gained so far on 
 the emperor and his court, and indeed upon the 
 army and people in general, that I began to conceive hopes 
 of getting my liberty in a short time. I took all possible 
 methods to cultivate this favorable disposition. The natives 
 came by degrees to be less appreheniivB^ any danger from 
 me. I would sometimes lie down and let five or six of 
 them dance on my hand ; and at last the boys and girls 
 would venture to come and play at hide-and-seek in my 
 hair. I had now made a good progress in understanding 
 and speaking the language. The emperor had a mind one 
 day to ent ertain me with several of the country shows, 
 wherein they exceeded all nations I have known, both for 
 dex terit y and magnifice^xe. I was diverted with none so 
 much as that of the rope-dancers, performed upon a slender 
 white thread extended about two feet and ten inches from 
 the ground. Upon which I shall desire liberty, vdth the 
 reader's patience, to enlarge a little. 
 
 This diversiOETls only practiced by those who are can- 
 didates for great employments and high favor at court. 
 They are trained in- this art from their youth, and are not 
 always of noble birth or liberal eduM^on. When a great 
 office is vacant, either by death or disgrace (which often 
 happens), five or six of these candidates petition the emperoi 
 to entertain his majesty and the court with a dance on the 
 rope ; and whoever jumps the highest without falling, 
 succeeds in the office. Very often the chief ministers 
 themselves are commanded to show their skill, and to con- 
 vince the emperor that they have not lost their faculty. 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 117 
 
 Flinmap, ilie treasurer, is allowed to cut a caper on the 
 straight rope at least an inch higher than any other lord in 
 the whole empire. I have seen him do the summerset sev- 
 eral times together upon a trencher fixed on a rope which 
 is no thicker than a common pack thread in England. My 
 friend Reldresal, principal secretary for private affairs, is, 
 in my opinion, if I am not partial, the second after the 
 treasurer; the rest of the great officers are much upon a 
 par. 
 
 These diversions are often attended with fatal accidents, 
 whereof great numbers are on record. I myseH have seen 
 two or three candidates break a Hmb. But the danger is 
 much greater when the ministers themselves are commanded 
 to show their dexterity ; for, by contending to excel them- 
 selves and their fellows, they strain so far that there is 
 hardly one of them who has not received a fall, and some 
 of them two or three. I was assured that, a year or two 
 before my arrival, Flimnap would infallibly have broken his 
 neck if one of the king's cushions, that accidentally lay on 
 the ground, had not weakened the force of his fall. 
 
 The horses of the army and those of the royal stables, 
 having been daily led before me, were no longer shy, but 
 would come up to my very feet without starting. The 
 riders would leap them over my hand as I held it on the 
 ground, and one of the emperor's huntsmen, upon a large 
 courser, took my foot, shoe and aU, — which was indeed a 
 prodigious leap. 
 
 I had the good fortune to divert the emperor one day 
 after a very extraordinary manner. I desired he would 
 order several sticks of two feet high, and the thickness of 
 an ordinary cane, to be brought me ; whereupon his majesty 
 commanded the master of his woods to give directions ac- 
 
118 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 cordingly, and the next morning six woodmen arrived with 
 as many carriages, drawn by eight horses to each. I took 
 nine of these sticks, and fixing them firmly in the ground 
 in a quadrangular figure two feet and a half square, I took 
 four other sticks and tied them parallel at each comer, 
 about two feet from the ground ; then I fastened my hand- 
 kerchief to the nine sticks that stood erects and extended 
 it on all sides till it was tight as the top of a drum ; and 
 the four parallel sticks rising about five inches higher than 
 the handkerchief, served as ledges on each side. 
 
 When I had finished ray work, I desired the emperor to 
 let a troop of the best horse, twenty-four in number, come 
 and exercise upon this plain. His majesty approved of the 
 proposal, and I took them up one by one in my hands, ready 
 mounted and armed, with the proper officers to exercise 
 them. As soon as they got into order they divided into 
 two parties, performed mock skirmishes, discharged blunt 
 arrows, drew their swords, fled and pursued, attacked and 
 retired, and, in short, discovered the best military discipline 
 I ever beheld. The parallel sticks secured them and their 
 horses from falling over the stage; and the emperor was 
 so much delighted that he ordered this entertainment to 
 be repeated several days, and once was pleased to be lifted 
 up and give the word of command, and with great difficulty 
 persuaded even the empress herself to let me hold her in 
 her close chair within two yards of the stage, when she was 
 able to take full view of the whole performance. 
 
 It was my good fortune that no ill accident happened in 
 these entertainments ; only once a fiery horse that belonged 
 to one of the captains, pawing with his hoof, struck a hole 
 in my handkerchief, and his foot slipping he overthrew 
 his rider and himself; but I immediately relieved them 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 119 
 
 both, and covering the hole with one hand I set down the 
 troop with the other, in the same manner as I took them 
 up. The horse that fell was strained in the left shoulder, 
 but the rider got no hurt ; and I repaired my handkerchief 
 as well as I could: however, I would not trust to the 
 strength of it any more in such dangerous enterprises. 
 
 About two or three days before I was set at liberty, as I 
 was entertaining the court with this kind of feats, there 
 arrived an express to inform his majesty that some of his 
 subjects riding near the place where I was first taken up 
 had seen a great black substance lying on the ground, very 
 oddly shaped, extending its edges round as wide as his 
 majesty's bedchamber and rising up in the middle as high 
 as a man; that it was no living creature as they at first 
 apprehended, for it lay on the grass without motion, and 
 some of them had walked round it several times ; that by 
 mounting upon each other's shoulders they had got to the 
 top, which was flat and even, and stamping upon it they 
 found that it was hollow within; that they humbly con- 
 ceived it might be something belonging to the man-moun- 
 tain ; and if his majesty pleased they would undertake to 
 bring it with only five horses. 
 
 I presently knew what they meant, and was glad at heart 
 to receive this intelligence. It seems, upon my first reach- 
 ing the shore after our shipwreck, I was in such confusion 
 that before I came to the place where I went to sleep, my 
 hat, which I had fastened with a string to mj head while 
 I was rowing and which had stuck on all the time I was 
 swimming, fell off after I came to land, the string, as I 
 conjecture, breaking by some accident, which I had never 
 observed, but thought my hat had been lost at sea. 
 
 I entreated his imperial majesty to give orders it might 
 
120 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 be brought to me as soon as possible, describing to him thq 
 use and the nature of it ; and the next day the wagonemi 
 arrived with it, but not in a very good condition. They 
 had bored two holes in the brim, and fastened two hooks in 
 the holes ; these hooks were tied by a long cord to the har- 
 ness, and thus my hat was dragged along for above half an 
 English mile ; but the ground in that country being extremely 
 smooth and level, it received less damage than I expected. 
 
 THE PTGMIES AND GULLIVBE's HAT. 
 
 I had sent so many memorials and petitions for my lib- 
 erty that his majesty at length mentioned the matter, first 
 in the cabinet and then in a full council, where it was op- 
 posed by none except Skyresh Bolgolam, who was pleased, 
 without any provocation, to be my mortal enemy. But it 
 was carried against him by the whole board, and confirmed 
 by the emperor. That minister was galhet, or admiral, of 
 the realm, very much in his master's confidence, and a per- 
 son well versed in affairs, but of a morose and sour com- 
 plexion. However, he was at length persuaded to comply, 
 but prevailed that the articles and conditions upon which 
 I should be set free, and to which I must swear, should be 
 drawn up by himself. These articles were brought to me 
 by Skyresh Bolgolam in person, attended by two undei 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 131 
 
 secretaries and several persons of distinction. After they 
 were read I was required to swear to the performance 
 of them first in the manner of my own country, and after- 
 ward in the method prescribed by their laws, which was to 
 hold my right foot in my left hand, and to place the middle 
 finger of my right hand on the crown of my head and my 
 thumb on the tip of my right ear. 
 
 I swore and subscribed to these articles with great cheer- 
 fulness and content, although some of them were not so 
 honorable as I could have wished, which proceeded whoUy 
 from the malice of Skyresh Bolgolam, the high admiral; 
 whereupon my chains were immediately unlocked, and I 
 was at full liberty. The emperor himseK, in person, did 
 me the honor to be by at the whole ceremony. I made 
 my acknowledgments by prostrating myself at his majesty's 
 feet; but he commanded me to rise, and after many gra- 
 cious expressions, which to avoid the censure of vanity I 
 shall not repeat, he added, " that he hoped I should prove 
 a useful servant,, and well deserve all the favors he had 
 already conferred upon me, or might do for the future." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LIBERTY having been granted me, my first request 
 was for permission to see Mildendo, the metropolis ; 
 which the emperor readily allowed me, but with a special 
 charge to do no hurt either to the inhabitants or their 
 houses. The people had notice, by p roclama tion, of my 
 design to visit the town. The wall which compassed it is 
 two feet and a half high, and at least eleven inches broad, 
 so that a coach and horses may be driven very safely round 
 it ; and it is flanked with strong towers at ten feet distance. 
 
123 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 I stepped over the great western gate, and passed very 
 gently and sidelong through the two principal streets, only 
 in my short waistcoat, for fear of damaging the roofs and 
 eaves of the houses with the skirts of my coat. 
 
 I walked with the utmost circumspection, to avoid 
 treading on any stragglers who migEt remain in the 
 streets, although the orders were very strict that aU 
 people should keep in their houses at their own peril. 
 
 The garret windows and tops of houses were so crowded 
 with spectators that I thought in all my travels I had not 
 seen a more populous place. The city is an exact square, 
 each side of the wall being five hundred feet long. The 
 two great streets, which run across and divide it into four 
 quarters, are five feet wide. The lanes and alleys, which 
 I could not enter, but only viewed them as I passed, are 
 from twelve to eighteen inches. The town is capable of 
 holding five hundred thousand souls ; the houses are from 
 three to five stories ; the shops and markets well provided. 
 
 The emperor's palace is in the center of the city, where 
 the two great streets meet. It is inclosed by a wall of two 
 feet high, and twenty feet distance from the buildings. I 
 had his majesty's permission to step over this wall; and 
 the space being so wide between that and the palace, I 
 could easily view it on every side. The outward court is 
 a square of forty feet, and includes two other courts ; in 
 the inmost are the . royal apartments, which I was very 
 desirous to see, but found it extremely difficult, for the 
 great gates, from one square into another, were but eigh- 
 teen inches high and seven inches wide. 
 
 Now the buildings of the outer court were at least five 
 feet high, and it was impossible for me to stride over them 
 without infinite damage to the pile, though the walls were 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 123 
 
 strongly built of hewn stone, and four inches thick. At 
 the same time, the emperor had a great desire that I should 
 see the magnificence of his palace ; but this I was not able 
 to do till three days after, which I spent in cutting down 
 with my knife some of the largest trees in the royal park, 
 about a hundred yards distance from the city. Of these 
 trees I made two stools, each about three feet high and 
 strong enough to bear my weight. 
 
 The people having received notice a second time, I went 
 again through the city to the palace with my two stools 
 in my hands. When I came to the side of the outer court, 
 I stood upon one stool and took the other in my hand; 
 this I lifted over the roof and gently set it down on the 
 space between the first and second court, which was eight 
 feet wide. I then stepped over the building very con- 
 veniently from one stool to the other, and drew up the 
 first after me with a hooked stick. By this contrivance I 
 got into the inmost court ; and, lying down upon my side, 
 I applied my face to the windows of the middle stories, 
 which were left open on purpose, and discovered the most 
 splendid apartments that can be imagined. 
 
 There I saw the empress and the young princes in their 
 several lodgings, with their chief attendants about them. 
 Her imperial majesty was pleased to smile very graciously 
 upon me, and gave me out of the window her hand to kiss. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LILLIPUT is part of the continent, but the empire of 
 Blefuscu is an island situated to the northeast of 
 the mainland, from which it is parted only by a channel 
 eight hundred yards wide. I had not yet seen it, and 
 
124 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 upon this notice of an intended invasion I avoided appear- 
 ing on that side of the coast, for fear of being discovered 
 by some of the enemy's ships, virho had received no intelli- 
 gence of me; all intercourse between the two empires 
 having been strictly forbidden during the war, upon paia 
 of death, and an embargo laid by our emperor upon all 
 vessels whatsoever. 
 
 I communicated to his majesty a project I had formed 
 of seizing the enemy's whole fleet; which, as our scouts 
 assured us, lay at anchor in the harbor, ready to sail with 
 the first fair wiud. I consulted the most experienced sea- 
 men upon the depth of the channel, which they had often 
 plumbed, who told me that in the middle, at high water, 
 it was seventy glumgluffs deep, which is about six feet of 
 European measure ; and the rest of it fifty glumgluffs at 
 most. 
 
 I walked toward the northeast coast, over against 
 Blefuscu, where, lying down behind a lullock, I took out 
 my small perspective glass, and viewed the enemy's fleet 
 at anchor, consisting of about fifty men-of-war and a great 
 number of transports. I then came back to my house, and 
 gave orders (for which I had a warrant) for a great quantity 
 of the strongest cable and bars of iron. 
 
 The cable was about as thick as pack-thread, and the 
 bars of the length and size of a knitting-needle. I trebled 
 the cable to make it stronger, and for the same reason I 
 twisted three of the iron bars together, bending the ex- 
 tremities into a hook. 
 
 Having thus fixed fifty hooks to as many cables, I went 
 back to the northeast coast, and putting ofp my coat, shoes, and 
 stockings, walked into the sea in my leathern jerkin, about 
 half an hour before high water. I waded with what haste 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 
 
 125 
 
 I could, and swam in the middle about thirty yards, till 
 I felt ground. I arrived at the fleet in less than half an 
 hour. 
 
 The enemy were so frightened when they saw me that 
 they leaped out of their ships and swam to shore; where 
 there could not be fewer than thirty thousand souls. I 
 then took my tackling, and fastening a hook to the hole at 
 the prow of each, I tied all the cords together at the end. 
 
 While I was thus employed, the enemy discharged sev- 
 eral thousand arrows, many of which stuck in my hands 
 and face, and besides the excessive smart, gave me much 
 disturbance in my work. My greatest apprehension was 
 for mine eyes, which I should have infallibly lost if I had 
 not suddenly thought of an expedient. I .kept, among 
 other little necessaries, a pair of spectacles in a private 
 pocket, which, as I observed before, had escaped the em- 
 peror's searchers. 
 
 These I took 
 out and fastened 
 as strongly as I 
 could upon 
 my nose, ''■^^• 
 and thus 
 
 GULLIVER TOWING THE SHIPS. 
 
 armed, went on boldly with 
 my work, in spite of the en- 
 '~"*" emy's arrows, many of which 
 struck against the glasses of my spectacles, but without any 
 other effect further than a little to discompose them. 
 
126 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 I had now fastened all the hooks, and taking the knot in 
 my hand, began to pull ; but not a ship would stir, for the^ 
 were all too fast held by their anchors, so that the boldest 
 part of my enterprise remained. I therefore let go the cord, 
 and leaving the hooks fixed to the ships, I resolutely cut 
 with my knife the cables that fastened the anchors, receiv- 
 ing about two hundred arrow-shots in my face and hands. 
 Then I took up the knotted end of the cables, to which my 
 hooks were tied, and with great ease drew fifty of the 
 enemy's largest men-of-war after me. 
 
 The Blefuscudians, who had not the least imagination of 
 what I intended, were at first confounded with astonish- 
 ment. They had seen me cut the cables, and thought my 
 design was only to let the ships run adrift, or fall foul on 
 each other ; but when they perceived the whole fleet mov- 
 ing in order, and saw me pulling at the end, they set up 
 such a scream of grief and despair as it is almost impossible 
 to describe or conceive. When I had got out of danger, I 
 stopped a while to pick out the arrows that stuck in my 
 hands and face ; and rubbed on some of the same ointment 
 that was given me at my first arrival, as I have formerly men- 
 tioned. I then took off my spectacles, and waiting about 
 an hour, till the tide was a little fallen, I waded through 
 the middle with my cargo, and arrived safe at the royal 
 port of Lilliput. 
 
 The emperor and his whole court stood on the shore, 
 expecting the issue of this great adventure. They saw the 
 ships move forward in a large half-moon, but could not 
 discern me, who was up to my breast in water. When I 
 advanced to the middle of the channel, they were yet more 
 in pain, because I was under water to my neck. 
 
 The emperor concluded me to be drowned, and that the 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. ■ 127 
 
 enemy's fleet was approaching in a hostile manner ; but he 
 was soon eased of his fears ; for the channel growing shal- 
 lower every step I made, I came in a short time within hear- 
 ing, and holding up the end of the cable, by which the. fleet 
 was fastened, I cried in a loud voice, " Long live the most 
 puissant king of Lilliput." This great prince received me 
 at my landing with all possible encomiums, and created me 
 a nardac upon the spot, which is the highest title of honor 
 among them. 
 
 chapter" VT. 
 
 THREE days after my arrival, walking out of curiosity 
 to the northeast coast of the island, I observed, about 
 half a league off in the sea, somewhat that looked like a 
 boat overturned. I pulled off ray shoes and stockings, and, 
 wading two or three hundred yards, I found the object to 
 approach nearer by force of the tide, and then plainly saw 
 it to be a real boat, which I supposed might by some tem- 
 pest have been driven from a ship ; .whereupon I returned 
 immediately toward the city, and desired his imperial 
 majesty to lend me twenty of the tallest vessels he had left, 
 after the loss of his fleet, and three thousand seamen, under 
 the command of his vice-admiral. 
 
 This fleet sailed round, while I went back the shortest 
 way to the coast where I first discovered the boat. I found 
 the tide had driven it still nearer. The seamen were .all 
 provided with cordage, which I had beforehand twisted to a 
 suflicient strength. When the ships came up, I stripped 
 myself, and waded till I came within a hundred yards of 
 the boat, after which I was forced to swim till I got up to 
 it. The seamen threw me the end of the cord, which I 
 
128 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 fastened to a hole in the forepart of the boat, and the other 
 end to a man-of-war; but I found all mj labor to little 
 purpose, for, being out of my depth, I was not able to 
 work. 
 
 "In this necessity I was forced to swim behind and push 
 the boat forward as often as I could with one of my hands ; 
 and the tide favoring me, I advanced so far that I could 
 just hold up my chin and feel the ground. I rested two or 
 three minutes, and then gave the boat another shove, and 
 so on, till the sea was no higher than my armpits ; and now 
 the most laborious part being over, I took out my other 
 cables, which were stowed in one of the ships, and 
 fastened them first to the boat, and then to nine of the 
 vessels which attended me. The wind being favorable, the 
 seamen towed, and I shoved, until we arrived within forty 
 yards of the shore, and waiting till the tide was out, I got dry 
 to the boat, and by the assistance of two thousand men with 
 ropes and engines I made a shift to turn it on its bottom 
 and found it was but little damaged. 
 
 I shall not trouble the reader with the difficulties I was 
 under, by the help of certain paddles, which cost me ten 
 days' making, to get my boat to the royal port of Blefuscu, 
 where a mighty concourse of people 'appeared upon my 
 arrival, full of wonder at the sight of so prodigious a vessel. 
 I told the emperor that my good fortune had thrown this 
 boat in my way, to carry me to some place whence I might 
 return into my native country; and begged his majesty's 
 orders for getting materials to fit it up, together with his 
 license to depart ; which, after some kind expostulations, he 
 was pleased to grant. '~~ 
 
 These considerations moved me to hasten my departure 
 somewhat sooner than I intended ; to which the court, im- 
 
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. 129 
 
 patient to have me gone, very readily contributed. Five 
 hundred workmen were employed to make two sails to my 
 boat, according to my directions, by quilting thirteen folds 
 of their strongest linen together. I was at the pains of 
 making ropes and cables, by twisting ten, twenty, or thirty 
 of the thickest and strongest of theirs. A great stone^ that 
 I happened to find, after a long search, by the seashore, 
 served me for an anchor. I had the tallow of three hundred 
 cows for greasing my boat, and other uses. I was at in- 
 credible pains in cutting down some of the largest timber 
 trees for oars and masts, wherein I was, however, much 
 assisted by his majesty's ship carpenters, who helped me in 
 smoothing them after I had done the rough work. 
 
 In about a month, when all was prepared, I sent to receive 
 his majesty's commands, and to take my leave. The 
 emperor and royal family came out of the palace. I lay on 
 my face to kiss his hand, which he very graciously gave 
 me ; so did the empress and young princes of the blood. 
 His majesty presented me with fifty purses of two hundred 
 sprugs apiece, together with his picture at full length, which 
 I put immediately into one of my gloves, to keep it from 
 being hurt. The ceremonies at my departure were too 
 many to trouble the reader with at this time. 
 
 I stored the boat with the carcasses of a hundred oxen 
 and three hundred sheep, with bread and drink proportion- 
 able, and as much meat ready-dressed as four hundred cooks 
 could provide. I took with me six cows and two bulls 
 alive, with as many ewes and rams, intending to carry them 
 into my own country and propagate the breed ; and to feed 
 them on board, T had a good bundle of hay, and a bag of 
 corn. I would gladly have taken a dozen of the natives, 
 but this was a thing the emperor would by no means per- 
 
130 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 mit ; and, besides a diligent search into my pockets, his 
 •? majesty engaged my honor "not to carry away any of his 
 subjects, although with their own consent and desire." 
 
 Having thus prepared all things as well as I was able, I 
 set sail, on the twenty-fourth day of September, 1701, at six 
 in the morning ; and when I had gone about four leagues to 
 the northward, the wind being at southeast, at six in the 
 evening I descried a small island about half a league to the 
 northwest. I advanced forward, and cast anchor on the lee 
 side of the island, which seemed to be uninhabited. I then 
 took some refreshment, went to my rest, and slept well, 
 as I conjecture, at least six hours, for I found the day broke 
 in two hours after I awakened. 
 
 It was a clear night. I ate my breakfast before the sun 
 was up ; and heaving anchor, the wind being favorable, I 
 steered the same course that I had done the day before, 
 wherein I was directed by my pocket compass. My inten- 
 tion was to reach, if possible, one of those islands which I 
 had reason to believe lay to the northeast of Van Diemen's 
 Land. I discovered nothing all that day; but upon the 
 next, about three in the afternoon, when I had by my com- 
 putation made twenty-four leagues from Blefuscu, I de- 
 scried a sail steering to the southeast ; my course was due 
 east. I hailed her, but could get no answer ; yet I found I 
 gained upon her, for the wind slackened. I made all -the 
 sail I could, and in half an hour sh6 spied me, then hung 
 out her ancient, and discharged a gun. 
 
 It is not easy to express the joy I was in, upon the un- 
 expected hope of once more seeing my beloved country, and 
 the dear pledges I left in it. The ship slackened her sails,: 
 and I came up with her between five and six in the evening, 
 September twenty-sixth j but my heart leaped within me to 
 
A VOYAGK TO LILLIPUT. 
 
 131 
 
 see her English colors. I put my cows and sheep into my 
 coat-pockets and got on board with all my little cargo of 
 provisions. The vessel was an English merchantman re- 
 turning from Japan, by the North and South seas; the 
 captain, Mr. John Biddel, of Deptford, a very civil man 
 and an excellent sailor. We were now in the latitude of 
 thirty degrees south. There were about fifty men in the 
 ship; and here I met an old comrade of mine, one Peter 
 Williams, who gave me a good character to the captain. 
 
 This gentleman treated me with kindness, and desired I 
 would let him know what place I came from last, and 
 whither I was bound, which I did in a few words, but he 
 thought I was raving, and that the dangers I had under- 
 gone had disturbed my head ; whereupon I took my black 
 cattle and sheep out of my pocket, which, after great 
 astonishment, clearly convinced him of my veracity. I then 
 showed him the gold given me by the emperor of Blefuscu, 
 together with his majesty's picture at full length and some 
 other rarities of that country. I gave him two purses of 
 two hundred sprugs each, and promised, when we arrived in 
 England, to make him a present of a cow and a sheep. 
 
 I shall not trouble the reader with a particular account of 
 this voyage, which was very prosperous for the most part. 
 We arrived in the Downs on the 13th of April, 1702. 
 
132 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XXII. THE MARSEILLAISa* 
 
 £t BonGET DE Lisle. 
 (1760-1836.) 
 
 The French Fl&g 
 
 YE sons of France, awake to glory I 
 Hark, hark 1 what myriads bid you rise I 
 Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary: 
 Behold their tears, and hear their cries! 
 Behold their tears, and hear their cries! 
 Sliall hateful tyrants mischief breeding, 
 With hireling hosts, a ruffian band. 
 Affright and desolate the land, 
 While peace and liberty lie bleeding? 
 
 ' The Marseillaise (rnar-sa-yRz') Hymn is the great battle song of 
 the French. It is said to arousp Krenoh soldiers to greater deeds of 
 bravery than aoythiug else cau do. 
 
THE MARSEILLAISE. 133 
 
 Chorus. — To arms, to arms, ye brave! 
 
 Th' avenging sword unsheathe ! 
 March on, march on, all hearts resolved - 
 On victory or death! 
 
 Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling, 
 
 Which treacherous kings confederate raise; 
 The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, 
 
 Ajid lo, our walls and cities blaze. 
 
 And lo, our walls and cities blaze. 
 And shall we basely view the ruin. 
 
 While lawless force, with guilty stride. 
 
 Spreads desolation far and wide, 
 With crimes and blood his hands imbruing? 
 Chobus. 
 
 With luxury and pride surrounded, 
 
 The vile, insatiate despots dare, 
 Their thirst of gold and power unbounded, 
 
 To mete and vend the light and air. 
 
 To mete and vend the light and air. 
 Like beasts of burden would they load us, 
 
 Like gods would bid their slaves adore; 
 
 But man is man, and who is more? 
 Then shall they longer lash and goad us? 
 Choeus. 
 
 O liberty! can man resign thee. 
 
 Once having felt thy gen'rous flame? 
 Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee? 
 
 Or whips thy noble spirit tame? 
 
 Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 
 Too long the world has wept bewailing 
 
 That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; 
 
134 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 But freedom is our sword and shield. 
 And all their arts are unavailing. 
 Chorus. — To arms, to arms, ye brave I 
 
 Th' avenging sword unsheathe I 
 March on, march on, all hearts resolved 
 On victory or death! 
 
 XXIII. THE WATCH ON THE RHINE.» 
 
 By Max Schneckenburgeb. 
 (1819-1849.) 
 
 The Germ&n FiOwg. 
 
 A CRY bursts forth like thunder-sound. 
 Like swords' fierce clash, like waves' rebound, — 
 To the Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine 1 
 To guard the river, who '11 combine ? 
 
 * The 'Watch on the Rhine is the song that all the Germans love 
 best, the song of their fatherland. 
 
THE WATCH ON THE RHINE. 
 
 135 
 
136 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine, — 
 
 Fast stands, and true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 From myriad mouths the summons flies. 
 And brightly flash a myriad eyes: 
 Brave, honest, true, the Ge.rmans come. 
 To guard the sacred bounds of home. 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine, — 
 Fast stands, and true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 And though the strife bring death to me. 
 
 No foreign river shalt thou be: 
 
 Exhaustless as thy wat'ry flood 
 
 Is German land in hero blood. 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine, — 
 Fast stands, and true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 If upward he his glance doth send. 
 
 There hero fathers downward bend. 
 
 He sweareth, proud to fight his part. 
 
 Thou Rhine, be German, like my heart. 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine, — 
 Fast stands, ana true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 While yet one drop of blood thou 'It yield. 
 While yet one hand the sword can wield, 
 While grasps the rifle one bold hand. 
 No foe shall tread thy sacred strand. 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine, — 
 Fast stands, and true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 The oath peals forth, the wave runs by. 
 Our flags, unfurled, are waving high. 
 
THE STORY OF RUTH. 137 
 
 To the Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine, — 
 
 To keep thee free we '11 all combine. 
 Dear Fatherland, good trust be thine,— 
 Fast stands, and true, the watch by the Rhine. 
 
 XXIV. THE STORY OF RUTH. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NOW it came to pass in the days when the Judges 
 ruled, that there was a famine in the land. And a 
 certain man in Beth-lehem-judah went to sojourn in the 
 country of Moab, he, and his wife, and his two sons. 
 
 And the name of the man was Elimdlech, and the name 
 of his wife Naomi, and the name of his two sons MsSlon 
 and Chilion, Ephrathites of Beth-lehem-judah. And they 
 came into the country of Moab, and continued there. 
 
 And Elimelech, Naomi's husband, died ; and she was 
 left, and her two sons. 
 
 And they took them wives of the women of Moab ; the 
 name of the one was Qrpah, and the name of the other 
 Ruth; and they dwelled there about ten years. 
 
 And Mahlon and Chilion died also, both of them ; and 
 the woman was left of her two sons and her husband. 
 
 Then she arose, with her daughters in law, that she 
 might return from the country of Moab; for she had 
 heard in the country of Moab how that the Lord had 
 visited his people in giving them bread. 
 
 Wherefore she went forth out of the place where she was, 
 and her two daughters in law with her ; and they went on 
 the way to return unto the land of Judah. 
 
138 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And Naomi said unto her two daughters in law, "Go, 
 return each to her mother's house; the Lord deal kindly 
 with you, as ye haye dealt with the dead, and with me. 
 
 " The Lord grant you that ye may find rest, each of you 
 in the house of her husband." Then she kissed them ; and 
 they lifted up their voice, and wept. 
 
 Philip H. Caldeeon. 
 
 NAOMI AND RUTH. 
 
 And they said unto her, "Surely we will return with 
 thee unto thy people." 
 
 And Naomi said, " Turn again, my daughters : why will 
 ye go with me ? Turn again, go your way." 
 
 And they lifted up their voice, and wept again; and 
 Orpah kissed her mother in law, but Ruth clave unto 
 her. 
 
THE STORY OF RUTH. 139 
 
 And she said, " Behold, thy sister in law is gone back 
 unto her people, and unto her gods: return thou after 
 thy sister in law." 
 
 And Ruth said, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to 
 return from following after thee : for whither thou goest, I 
 wiU go ; and where thou lodgest I wiU lodge : thy people 
 shall be my people, and thy God my God: 
 
 "Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be 
 buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught 
 but death part thee and me." 
 
 When she saw that she was steadfastly minded to go 
 with her, then she left speaking unto her. 
 
 So they two went until they came unto Beth-lehem. 
 And it came to pass, when they were come to Beth-lehem, 
 that aU the city was moved about them, and they said, " Is 
 this Naomi?" 
 
 And she said unto them, " Call me not Naomi, call me 
 Mara ; for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. 
 I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home 
 again empty ; why then call ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord 
 hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted 
 me?" 
 
 So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daugh- 
 ter in law, with her, which returned out of the country of 
 Moab; and they came to Beth-lehem in the beginning of 
 barley harvest. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 AND Naomi had a kinsman of her husband's, a mighty 
 man of wealth, of the family of Elimelech; and his 
 name was Boaz. 
 
140 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK. 
 
 And Ruth the Moabitess said unto Naomi, " Let me now 
 go to the field, and glean ears of com after him in whose 
 sight I shall find grace." And she said unto her, " Go, 
 my daughter." 
 
 And she went, and came, and gleaned in the field after 
 the reapers ; and her hap was to light on a part of the 
 field belonging unto Boaz, who was of the kindred of 
 Elimelech. 
 
 And, behold, Boaz came from Beth-lehem, and said unto 
 the reapers, " The Lord be with you." And they answered 
 him, "The Lord- bless thee." 
 
 Then said Boaz unto his servant that was set over the 
 reapers, " Whose damsel is this ? " 
 
 And the servant that was set over the reapers answered 
 and said, " It is the Moabitish damsel that came back with 
 Naomi out of the country of Moab : 
 
 " And she said, ' I pray you, let me glean and gather 
 after the reapers among the sheaves.' So she came, and 
 hath continued even from the morning until now, that she 
 tarried a little in the house." 
 
 Then said Boaz unto Ruth, "Hearest thou not, my 
 daughter? Go not to glean in another field, neither go 
 from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens : 
 
 " Let thine eyes be on the field that they do reap, and go 
 thou after them ; have I not charged the young men that 
 they shall not touch thee? And when thou art athirst, 
 go unto the vessels, and drink of that which the young 
 men have drawn." 
 
 Then she fell on her face, and bowed herself to the 
 ground, and said unto him, " Why have I found grace in 
 thine eyes, that thou shouldst take knowledge of me, 
 seeing I am a stranger ? " 
 
THE STORY OF RUTH. 141 
 
 And Boaz answered and said unto her, " It hath fully- 
 been shewed me, all that thou hast done unto thy mother 
 in law since the death of thine husband ; and how thou hast 
 left thy father and thy mother, and the land of thy nativ- 
 ity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not 
 heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full 
 reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under 
 whose wings thou art come to trust." 
 
 Then she said, " Let me find favor in thy sight, my lord ; 
 for that thou hast comforted me, and for that thou hast 
 spoken friendly unto thy handmaid, though I be not like 
 unto one of thine handmaidens." 
 
 And Boaz said unto her, " At mealtime come thou hither, 
 and eat of the bread, and dip thy morsel into the vinegar." 
 And she sat beside the reapers : and he reached her parched 
 corn, and she did eat, and was sufBced, and left. 
 
 And when she was risen up to glean, Boaz commanded 
 his young men, saying, "Let her glean even among the 
 sheaves, and reproach her not: 
 
 " And let fall also some of the handfuls of purpose for her, 
 and leave them, that she may glean them, and rebuke her not." 
 
 So she gleaned in the field until even, and beat out that 
 she had gleaned : and it was about an ephah of barley. 
 
 And she took it up, and went into the city, and her 
 mother in law saw what she had gleaned ; and she brought 
 forth, and gave to her that she had received after she Wiis 
 sufficed. 
 
 And her mother in law said to her, "Where hast thou 
 gleaned to-day ? and where wroughtest thou ? blessed be he 
 that did take knowledge of thee." And she shewed her 
 mother in law with whom she had wrought, and she said, _ 
 " The man's name with whom I wrought to-day is Boaz." 
 
i42 STEPPING STONES TO LITEBATtJBE 
 
 And Naomi said unto her daughter-in-law, " Blessed be 
 he of the Lord, who hath not left off his kindness to the 
 living and to the dead." And Naomi said unto her, " The 
 man is near of kin unto us, one of our next kinsmen." 
 
 And Ruth the Moabitess said, " He said unto me also, 
 thou shalt keep fast by my young men, until they have 
 ended all my harvest." 
 
 And Naomi said unto Ruth her daughter in law, " It is 
 good, my daughter, that thou go out with his maidens, that 
 they meet thee not in any other field." 
 
 So she kept fast by the maidens of Boaz to glean unto the 
 end of barley harvest, and of wheat harvest; and dwelt 
 with her mother in law. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THEN Naomi her mother in law said unto her, "My 
 daughter, shall I not seek rest for thee, that it may 
 be well with thee ? 
 
 "And now is not Boaz of our kindred, with whose 
 maidens thou wast ? Behold he winnoweth barley to-night 
 in the threshing floor. 
 
 "Wash thyself therefore, and anoint thee, and put thy 
 raiment upon thee, and get thee down to the floor: but 
 make not thyself known unto the man, until he shall have 
 done eating and drinking. 
 
 "And it shaU. be, when he lieth down, that thou shalt 
 mark the place where he shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and 
 uncover his feet, and lay thee down ; and he will tell thee 
 what thou shalt do." 
 
 And she said auto her, " All that thou sayest unto me I 
 wiU do." 
 
THE STORY OF RUTH. 143 
 
 And she went down unto the floor, and did according to 
 all that her mother in law had bade her. 
 
 And when Boaz had eaten and diimk, he went to lie 
 down at the end of the heap of corn ; and she came softly 
 and uncovered his feet, and laid her down. 
 
 And she lay at his feet until the morning : and she rose 
 up before one could know another. 
 
 And he said, " Bring the vail that thou hast upon thee, 
 and hold it." And when she held it, he measured six meas- 
 ures of barley, and laid it on her: and she went into the 
 city. 
 
 And when she came to her mother in law, she said, "Who 
 art thou, my daughter ? " And she told her all that the man 
 had done. 
 
 And she said, " These six measures of barley gave he to 
 me ; for he said to me. Go not empty unto thy mother in 
 law." 
 
 Then said she, " Sit still, my daughter, until thou know 
 how the matter will fall : for the man will not be in rest, 
 until he have finished the thing this day." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THEN went Boaz up to the gate, and sat him down 
 there : and behold, the kinsman of whom Boaz spake 
 came by ; unto whom he said, " Ho, such a one I turn aside, 
 sit down here." And he turned aside, and sat down. 
 
 And he took ten men of the elders of the city, and said, 
 " Sit ye down here." And they sat down. 
 
 And he said unto the kinsman, "Naomi, that is come 
 again out of the country of Moab, selleth a parcel of land, 
 which was our brother Elimeleoh's : 
 
144 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE- 
 
 "And I thought to advertise thee, saying, ' Buy it before 
 the inhabitants, and before the elders of my people. If thou 
 wilt redeem it, redeem it ; but if thou wilt not redeem it, 
 then tell me, that I may know : for there is none to redeem 
 it beside thee ; and I am after thee.' " And he said, " I 
 will redeem it." 
 
 Then said Boaz, " What day thou buyest the field of the 
 land of Naomi, thou must buy it also of Ruth the Moabitess, 
 the wife of the dead, to raise up the name of the dead upon 
 his inheritance." 
 
 And the kinsman said, " I cannot redeem it for myself, 
 lest I mar mine own inheritance ; redeem thou my right to 
 thyself ; for I cannot redeem it." 
 
 Now this was the manner in former time in Israel con- 
 cerning redeeming and concerning changing, for to confirm 
 all things ; A man plucked off his shoe, and gave it to his 
 neighbor: and this was a testimony in Israel. 
 
 Therefore the kinsman said unto Boaz, " Buy it for thee.' 
 So he drew off his shoe. 
 
 And Boaz said unto the elders, and unto all the people, 
 " Ye are witnesses this day, that I have bought all that was 
 Elimelech's, and aU. that was Chilion's and Mahlon's, of the 
 hand of Naomi. 
 
 " Moreover, Ruth the Moabitess, the wife of Mahlon, have 
 I purchased to be my wife, to raise up the name of the dead 
 upon his inheritance, that the name of the dead be not cui 
 off from among his brethren, and from the gate of his place : 
 ye are witnesses this day." 
 
 And all the people said, " We are witnesses. The Lord 
 make the woman that is come into thine house like Rachel 
 and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and 
 do thou worthily in Ephratah, and be famous in Beth-lehera 
 
RUTH. 145 
 
 And let thy house be like the house of Pharez, whom 
 Tainar bare unto Judah, of the seed which the Lord shall 
 give thee of this young woman." 
 
 So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his wife, and she bare 
 him a son. 
 
 And the women said unto Naomi, " Blessed be the Lord, 
 which hath not left thee this day without a kinsman, that 
 his name may be famous in Israel. 
 
 " And he shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life, and a 
 nourisher of thine old age : for thy daughter in law, which 
 loveth thee, which is better to thee than seven sons, hath 
 borne him." 
 
 And Naomi took the child, and laid it in her bosom, and 
 became nurse unto it. 
 
 And the women her neighbors gave it a name, saying, 
 " There is a son born to Naomi ; and they called his name 
 Obed : he is the father of Jesse, the father of David." 
 
 From the Bible, 
 
 XXV. RUTH. 
 
 By Thomas Hood. 
 (1798-1845.) 
 
 SHE stood breast high amid the corn. 
 Clasp' d by the golden light of morn, 
 Like the sweetheart of the sun, 
 Who many a glowing kiss had won. 
 
 On her cheek an autumn flush. 
 Deeply ripen'd: — such a blush 
 In the midst of the brown was born. 
 Like red poppies grown with corn. 
 
146 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Round her eyes her tresses fell, 
 Which were blackest, none could tell; 
 But long lashes veil'd a light 
 That had else been all too bright. 
 
 And her hat, with shady brim. 
 Made her tressy forehead dim : — 
 Thus she stood amid the stooks, 
 Praising God with sweetest looks. 
 
 Sure, I said, Heav'n did not mean, 
 Where I reap thou shouldst but glean ; 
 Lay thy sheaf adown, and come, 
 Share my harvest and my home. 
 
 XXVI. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON, AGED 
 THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS. 
 
 By Thomas Hood. 
 
 THOU happy, happy elf I 
 (But stop — first let me kiss away that tear)- 
 Thou tiny image of myself I 
 (My love, he's poking peas into his ear!) 
 Thou merry, laughing sprite I 
 With spirits feather-light, 
 Untouoh'd by sorrow, and unsoil'd by sin — 
 (Good heavens 1 the child is swallowing a pin I) 
 
 Thou little tricksy Puck I 
 With antic toys so funnily bestuck. 
 
A PARENTAL ODE. 147 
 
 Light as the singing bird that wings the air — 
 (The door I the door 1 he '11 tumble down the stair 1) 
 
 Thou darling of thy sire I 
 (^Why, Jane, he '11 set his pinafore a-fire 1) 
 
 Thou imp of mirth and joyl 
 In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, 
 Thou idol of thy parents — (Drat the boy 1 
 
 There goes my inkl) 
 
 Thou cherub, but of earth 1 
 Fit playfellow for fays, by moonlight pale, 
 
 In harmless sport and mirth, 
 (The dog will bite him if he pulls its tail I) 
 
 Thou human humming bee, extracting honey 
 From ev'ry blossom in the world that blows, 
 
 Singing in Youth's Elysium ever sunny, 
 (Another tumble I — that 's his precious nose !) 
 Thy father's pride and hope I 
 (He '11 break the mirror with that skipping rope I) 
 With pure heart newly stamp'd from Nature's mint, 
 (Where did he learn that squint?) 
 
 Thou young domestic dovel 
 (He '11 have that jug off, with another shove I) 
 
 Dear nursling of the Hymeneal nest I 
 
 (Are those torn clothes his best?) 
 
 Little epitome of man I 
 (He'U climb upon that table, that's his plan') 
 Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life — 
 
 (He 's got a knife !) 
 
 Thou enviable being f 
 No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, 
 
 Play on. play on, my elfin John! 
 
148 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Toss the light ball, bestride the stick, 
 (I knew so many cakes would make him sick I) 
 With fancies, buoyant as the thistle-down. 
 Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, 
 
 With many a lamb-like frisk, 
 (He 's got the scissors, snipping at your gown I) 
 
 Thou pretty opening rose 1 
 (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nosel^ 
 Balmy and breathing' music like the South, 
 (He really brings my heart into my mouth I) 
 Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star, 
 (I wish that window had an iron bar !) 
 Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, 
 
 (I '11 teU you what, my love, 
 I cannot wiite, unless he 's. sent above I) 
 
 A 
 
 XXVII. AN ICEBERG.* 
 
 By Richard Henry Dana. 
 
 (1815-1882.) 
 
 T twelve o'clock we went below, and had just got 
 through dinner, when the cook put his head down 
 the companion, way, and told us to come on deck and see 
 the finest sight we had ever seen. 
 
 " Where away, cook ? " asked the first man who came up. 
 " On the port bow." 
 
 * This description of an iceberg is taken from the author's " Two 
 Years Before the Mast," a most interesting book of travel and stirring 
 incidents. 
 
AN ICEBERG. 
 
 149 
 
160 BTEPFiNQ 8TOJ»rEa TO LITERATURS. 
 
 And there, floating in the ocean, seveiai mUes off, lay an 
 immense irregular mass, its tops and points coyered with 
 snow, land Its center" of a deep indigo color. This was an 
 iceberg, and of the largest size, as one of our men said who 
 had been in the Northern Ocean. 
 
 As far as the eye could reach, the sea in every direction 
 was of a deep blue color, the waves running high and 
 fresh, and sparkling in the light; and in the midst lay 
 tliis immense mountain ' island, its cavities and valleys 
 thrown into deep shade, and its points and pinnacles 
 glittering in the sun. All hands were soon on deck, 
 looking at it, and admiring its beauty and grandeur. 
 
 But no description can give any idea of the strangeness 
 and beauty, of the sight. Its great size, — for it must have 
 been two or three miles in circumference, and several hun- 
 dred feet in height; its slow motion, as its base rose and 
 sank in the water, and its high points nodded against the 
 clouds ; the dashing of the waves upon it, which, breaking 
 high with foam, lined its base with a white crust ; and the 
 thundering sound of the crackling mass, and the breaking 
 and tumbling down of huge pieces, as well as its nearness 
 and approach, which added a slight element of fear, — all 
 combined to give it the character of true sublimity. 
 
 The main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an 
 indigo color, its base crusted with frozen foam; and as 
 it grew thin and transparent toward the edges and top, 
 its color shaded off from a deep blue to the whiteness of 
 snow. It seemed to be drifting slowly toward the north, 
 so that we kept away and avoided it. It was in sight all 
 the afternoon ; and when we got to leeward of it, the wind 
 died away, so that we lay to, quite near it, for the greater 
 part of the night. 
 
ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED. 161 
 
 Unfortunately there was no moon, but it was a clear 
 night, and we could plainly mark the long, regular, 
 heaving mass, as its edges moved slowly against the stars. 
 Several times in our watch loud cracks were heard, which 
 sounded as though they must have run through the whole 
 length of the iceberg, and several pieces fell down with a 
 thundering crash, plunging heavily into the sea. Toward 
 morning a strong breeze sprung up, and we filled away, and 
 left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight. 
 
 No pencil has ever yet given anything like the true 
 effect of an iceberg. In a picture they are huge, uncouth 
 masses tucT^ed in the sea; while their chief beauty and 
 grandeur — their slow stately motion, the whirling of the 
 snow about their summits, and the fearful crackling and 
 groaning of their parts — the picture cannot give. This 
 is the large iceberg, while the small and distant islands, 
 floating on the smooth sea, in the light of a clear day, 
 look like little floating fairy isles of sapphire. 
 
 XXVIII. ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED.* 
 
 By James Montgomery. 
 (1776-1854.) 
 
 ** IV/T"^^^ ^^^ ^"^ liberty!" he cried, 
 ■LVJ. Made way for liberty, and died. 
 In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, 
 A living wall, a human wood, — 
 
 ' Tradition holds this story of the heroic death of Arnold von 
 Winkeh-ied to be a true one. Its occurrence decided the Swis? 
 victory at Sempach, in 1386. 
 
162 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 A wall, where every conscious stone 
 Seemed to its kindred thousands grown, 
 A rampart all assaults to bear, 
 Till time to dust their frames should wcai 
 So still, so dense the Austrian stood, 
 A living wall, a human wood. 
 
 Impregnable their front appears, 
 All horrent with projected spears, 
 Whose polished points before them shine, 
 From flank to flank, one brilliant line, 
 Bright as the breakers' splendors run 
 Along the billows to the sun. 
 
 Opposed to these a hovering band 
 
 Contended for their fatherland; 
 
 Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke 
 
 From manly necks the ignoble yoke. 
 
 And beat their fetters into swords, 
 
 On equal terms to fight their lords; 
 
 And what insurgent rage had gained. 
 
 In many a mortal fray maintained; 
 
 Marshaled, once more, at Freedom's call. 
 
 They came to conquer or to fall, 
 
 Where he who conquered, he who fell, 
 
 Was deemed a dead or living Tell, 
 
 Such virtue had that patriot breathed, 
 
 So to the soil his soul bequeathed. 
 
 That wheresoe'er his arrows flew, 
 
 Heroes in his own likeness grew, 
 
 And warriors sprang from every sod. 
 
 Which his awakening footstep trod. 
 
ATtNOLD VON WINKELRIED l^S 
 
 And now the work of life and death 
 
 Hung on the passing of a breath ; 
 
 The fire of conflict burned within, 
 
 The battle trembled to begin; 
 
 Yet, while the Austrians held their ground. 
 
 Point for attack was nowhere found; 
 
 Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, 
 
 The unbroken line of lances blazed ; 
 
 That line 'twere- suicide to meet, 
 
 And perish at their tyrant's feet; 
 
 How could they rest within their graves. 
 
 And leave their homes, the homes of slaves? 
 
 Would not they feel their children tread. 
 
 With clanging chains, above their head ? 
 
 It must not be ; this day, this hour, 
 Annihilates the invader's power; 
 All Switzerland is in the field ; 
 She will not fly, — she cannot yield, — 
 She must not fall ; her better fate 
 Here gives her an immortal date. 
 Few were the numbers she could boast, 
 But every freeman was a host, 
 And felt as 'twere a secret known 
 That one should turn the scale alone, 
 While each unto himself was he 
 On whose sole arm hung victory. 
 
 It did depend on one indeed; 
 Behold him, — Arnold Winkelried ; 
 There sounds not to the trump of fame 
 The echo of a nobler name. 
 
154 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Unmarked he stood amidst tlie throng, 
 
 In rumination deep and long, 
 
 Till you might see, with sudden grace, 
 
 The Very thought come o'er his face; 
 
 And, by the motion of his form. 
 
 Anticipate the bursting storm, 
 
 And, by the uplifting of his brow. 
 
 Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 
 
 But 'twas no sooner thought than done! 
 
 The field was in a moment won; 
 
 " Make way for liberty I " he cried. 
 
 Then ran, with arms extended wide. 
 
 As if his dearest friend to clasp; 
 
 Ten spears he swept within his grasp; 
 
 " Make way for liberty I " he cried. 
 
 Their keen points crossed from side to side; 
 
 He bowed amidst them like a tree, 
 
 And thus made way for liberty. 
 
 Swift to the breach his comrades fly, 
 
 " Make way for liberty I " they cry. 
 
 And through the Austrian phalanx dart, 
 
 As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart. 
 
 While instantaneous as his fall. 
 
 Rout, ruin, panic, seized them all ; 
 
 An earthquake could not overthrow 
 
 A city with a surer blow. 
 
 Thus Switzerland again was free; 
 Thus Death made way for Liberty I 
 
ELEPHANT HtJNTINC* IN AFRICA. 155 
 
 XXIX. ELEPHANT HUNTINQ IN AFRICA. 
 
 By Sir Samuel White Baker. 
 
 (1821-1893.) 
 
 PART I. 
 
 TRACKING was very difficult. As there was total ab- 
 sence of rain, it was next to impossible to distinguish 
 the tracks of two days' date from those most recent upon 
 the hard and parched soil. 
 
 AFRICAN ELEPHANTS. 
 
 The greater part of the day passed in useless toil, and, 
 after fording the river backward and forward several times, 
 we at length arrived at a large area of sand in a bend of the 
 stream. This surface of many acres was backed by a forest 
 of large trees. Upon arrival at this spot, the aggageers, 
 who appeared to know every inch of the country, declared 
 that, unless the elephants had gone far away, they must be 
 close at hand, in the forest. 
 
156 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 We were speculating upon the direction, of the wind, when 
 we were surprised by the sudden trumpet of an "elephant, 
 that proceeded from the forest already declared to be the 
 hiding-place of the herd. In a few minutes, a fine, large 
 elephant marched majestically from the jungle upon the 
 large area of sand, and proudly stalked directly toward the 
 river. 
 
 At that time we were stationed under cover of a high 
 bank of sand that had been left by the_ retiring river in 
 sweeping round an angle ; we immediately dismounted and 
 remained well concealed. The question of attack was 
 quickly settled. The elephant was quietly approaching 
 the water, which was about a hundred paces distant from 
 the jungle. This intervening space was covered with heavy, 
 dry sand, that had been thrown up by the stream in the 
 sudden bend of the river. 
 
 I proposed that we should endeavor to stalk the elephant, 
 by creeping along the edge of the river, under cover of a 
 sand bank about three feet high, and that, should the rifles 
 fail, the aggageers should come on at full gallop, and cut 
 off his retreat to the jungle. Accordingly, I led the way, 
 followed by my head man with a rifle, while I carried my 
 large elephant gun, which I called " Baby." Florian accom- 
 panied us. Having the wind fair, we advanced quickly 
 for about half the distance, at which time we were within 
 a hundred and fifty yards of the elephant, which had just 
 arrived at the water and had commenced drinking. 
 
 We now crept cautiously toward him ; the sand bank had 
 decreased to a height of about two feet, and afforded very 
 little shelter. Not a tree or a bush grew upon the surface 
 of the barren sand, which was so deep that we sank nearly 
 to the ankles at every footstep. Still we crept forward, 
 
ELEPHANT HUNTING IN AFRICA. 157 
 
 as the elephant alternately drank and then spouted the 
 water in a shower over his colossal form; but just as 
 we had arrived within about fifty yards, he happened to 
 turn his head in our direction, and immediately perceived 
 us. He lifted his enormous ears, gave a short trumpet, and 
 for an instant wavered in his determination whether to 
 attack or fly ; but as I rushed toward him with a shout, he 
 turned toward the jungle and I immediately fired a steady 
 shot at his shoulder with the "Baby." 
 
 The only effect of the shot was to send him off at a 
 greater speed to the jungle ; but at the same time the three 
 aggageers came galloping across the sand like greyhounds 
 in a course, and, wisely keeping on a line with the jungle, 
 they cut off his retreat. Then turning toward the elephant, 
 they confronted him, sword in hand. At once the furious 
 beast charged straight at the enemy, but now came the very 
 gallant, but foolish, part of the hunt. Instead of leading 
 the elephant by the flight of one man and horse, accord- 
 ing to their usual method, all the aggageers at the same 
 moment sprung from their saddles, and upon foot in the 
 heavy sand they attacked the elephant with their swords. 
 
 In the way of sport, I never saw anything so magnificent 
 or so absurdly dangerous. The elephant was in a great 
 rage, and nevertheless, he seemed to know that the object 
 of the hunters was to get behind him. This he avoided 
 with great dexterity, turning with extreme quickness, 
 and charging headlong, first at one, and then at another 
 of his assailants, while he blew' clouds of sand in the air 
 with his trunk, and trumpeted with fury. Nimble as 
 monkeys, nevertheless the aggageers. could not get behind 
 him. In the folly of excitement they had forsaken their 
 horses, which had escaped from the spot. 
 
158 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 The depth of the loose sand was in favor of the elephant, 
 and was so much against the men that they avoided his 
 charges with extreme difficulty. It was only by the de- 
 termined pluck of all three that they alternately saved one 
 another, as two dashed in at the flanks when the elephant 
 charged at the third, upon which the cautious animal 
 immediately gave up the chase, and turned upon his 
 pursuers. 
 
 During this time I had been laboring through the heavy 
 sand, and shortly after I arrived at the fight, the elephant 
 charged directly through the aggageers, receiving a shoulder 
 shot from one of my large rifles, and at the same time a 
 slash from the sword of one of the men who, with great 
 dexterity and speed, had closed in behind him just in time 
 to reach his leg. Unfortunately, he could not deliver the 
 cut in the right place, as the elephant, with increased speed, 
 completely distanced the aggageers ; he charged across the ■ 
 deep sand, and reached the jungle. We were shortly upon 
 his track, and, after running about a quarter of a mile, 
 found him dead in a dry water course. His tusks, like 
 those of the generality of Abyssinian elephants, were 
 exceedingly short, but of good thickness. 
 
 Some of our men who had followed the runaway horses 
 shortly returned, and reported that during the fight they 
 had heard other elephants trumpeting in the dense jungle 
 near the river. A portion of a thick forest of about two 
 hundred acres, upon this side of the river, was a tempting 
 covert for elephants, and the aggageers, who were perfectly 
 familiar with the habits of the animals, positively declared 
 that the herd must be within this jungle. 
 
 Accordingly we proposed to skirt the margin of the 
 river, which, as it made a bend at right angJes, commande(} 
 
ELEPHANT HUNTING IN AFRICA. 159 
 
 two sides of a square. Upon reaching the jungle by the 
 river side, we again heard tlie trumpet of an elephant, and 
 about a quarter of a mile distant we observed a herd of 
 twelve of these animals shoulder deep in the river. They 
 were in the act of crossing to the opposite side to secrete 
 themselves in an almost impenetrable jungle of thorny 
 hedge. 
 
 The aggageers advised that we should return to the ford 
 that we had abeady crossed, assuring us that by recrossing 
 the river we should most probably meet the elephants, as 
 they would not leave the thick jungle until night. Having 
 implicit confidence in their knowledge of the country, I 
 followed their directions, and shortly afterward we recrossed 
 the ford and arrived upon a dry portion of the river's bed, 
 banked by a dense thicket. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 JALI now took the management of affairs. We all dis- 
 mounted, and sent the horses to a considerable dis- 
 tance, lest they should by some noise disturb the elephants. 
 We soon heard a crackling in the jungle on our right, and 
 Jali assured us that, as he had expected, the elephants 
 were slowly advancing through the jungle on the bank of 
 the river, and would pass exactly before us. 
 
 We waited patiently in the bed of the river, and the 
 cracking in the jungle sounded closer as the herd evidently 
 approached. The strip of thick, thorny covert that fringed 
 the margin was in no place wider than half a mile. Beyond 
 that the country was open and park-like ; but at this season 
 it was covered with parched grass from eight to ten feet 
 high : the elephants would, therefore, most probably remain 
 in the jungle until driven out. 
 
160 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Ill about a quarter of an hour we judged by the noise in 
 the jungle about a hundred yards from the river that the 
 elephants were directly opposite ns. T accordingly in- 
 structed Jali to creep quietly by himself into the bush, and 
 to bring me information of their position. In three or four 
 minutes he returned ; he declared that it would be impos- 
 sible to use the sword, as the jungle was so dense that it 
 would check the blow, but that I could use the rifles, as the 
 elephants were close to us. He had seen three standing 
 together between us and the main body of the herd. 
 
 I told Jali to lead me directly to the spot, and, followed 
 by Florian and the aggageers with my gun bearers, I kept 
 within a foot of the little guide, upon whom I depended, as 
 he crept gently into the jungle. We advanced stealthily, 
 until Jali stepped quietly to one side and pointed with his 
 finger; I immediately observed two elephants looming up 
 through the thick bushes about eight paces from me. 
 
 Determined to try fairly the forehead stot, I kept my 
 ground, and fired a quicksilver and lead bullet from one of 
 the large rifles. It struck her exactly in the center of the 
 forehead. The only effect was to make the huge beast 
 stagger backward, when, in another moment, with her im- 
 mense ears thrown forward, she charged. I then Gied my 
 remaining barrel a little lower than the first shot. 
 
 Checked in her rush, she backed toward the immense 
 jungle, throwing her trunk about and trumpeting with rage. 
 Snatching a large rifle from one of my trusty men, I ran 
 straight at her, took deliberate aim at the forehead, and 
 fired once more. The only effect was a decisive charge; 
 but before I fired my last barrel Jali rushed in, and with 
 one blow of his sharp sword severed the sinew of the hind 
 leg. In an instant she was utterly' helpless. 
 
ELEPHANT HUNTING IN AFRICA. 16 1 
 
 1 had fired three accurate shots, and all had failed to kill. 
 There could no longer be any doubt that the forehead shot, 
 so fatal to the Indian elephant, could not be relied upon 
 with the African species. I now reloaded my rifles, and 
 the aggageers quitted the jungle to remount their horses, 
 as they expected the herd had broken covert on the other 
 side of the jungle; in which case they intended to give 
 chase, and, if possible, to turn them back into the covert 
 and drive them toward the guns. We accordingly took 
 our stand in the small, open glade, and I lent Florian one 
 of my double rifles, as he was provided with only one 
 single-barreled elephant gun. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour passed in suspense, when we 
 suddenly heard a chorus of wild cries on the other side of 
 the jungle, raised by the aggageers, who had headed the 
 herd and were driving them back toward us. In a few 
 minutes a tremendous crashing in the jungle, accompanied 
 by the occasional shrill scream of a savage elephant, and 
 the continued shouts of the aggageers, assured us that they 
 were bearing down exactly in our direction; they were 
 apparently followed, even through the dense jungle, by the 
 wild and reckless Arabs. 
 
 I called my men together, and told them to stand fast 
 and to hand me the guns quickly ; and we eagerly awaited 
 the onset that rushed toward us like a storm. For a mo- 
 ment the jungle quivered and crashed ; a second later and 
 the herd, headed by an immense elephant, thundered down 
 upon us. 
 
 The great leader came directly toward me, and received 
 in the forehead the contents of both barrels of my large 
 rifle as fast as I could puU the triggers. The shock made 
 it reel backward for an instant, and fortunately turned it 
 
163 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATUKK 
 
 aside, and the rest of the herd followed their leader. My 
 second rifle was rapidly handled, and I made a quick shot 
 with both barrels at the temples of two fine elephants, drop- 
 ping them both stone-dead. 
 
 At this moment, the " Baby " was pushed into my hand 
 by another of my men, just in time to take the shoulder of 
 the last of the herd, which had already charged headlong 
 after its companions, and was disappearing in the jungle. 
 Bang 1 went the " Baby," and around I spun like a weather- 
 cock, with the blood pouring from my nose, as the re- 
 coil had driven the sharp top of the hammer deep into 
 the bridge. My "Baby" not only screamed, but kicked 
 viciously. However, I knew that the elephant must be 
 dead, as the half-pound shell had been aimed directly at 
 the shoulder. 
 
 We had done pretty well. 1 had been fortunate in bag- 
 ging four from this herd, in addition to the single one in the 
 morning, — total, five. Florian had killed one, and the agga- 
 geers one, — total, seven elephants. One had escaped that 
 I had wounded in the shoulder, and two that had been 
 wounded by Florian. 
 
 Having my measuring tape in a game bag, that was 
 always carried by one of the men, I measured accurately 
 one of the elephants that had fallen, with the legs stretched 
 out, so that the height to the shoulder could be exactly 
 measured. From foot to shoulder, in a direct line, nine 
 feet, one inch ; circumference of foot, four feet, eight 
 inches. We now left the jungle and found our horses 
 waiting for us in the bed of the river by the water-side, 
 and we rode toward our camp, well satisfied with the day's 
 sport. 
 
 From " Wild BtnuU md lAetr froft.- 
 
THE EVK OF WATERLOO. 163 
 
 XXX. THE EVE OF WATERLOO.* 
 
 By Lord George: Noel Gordon Byron. 
 ( 1788-1824.) 
 
 THERE was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capital ^ had gathered then 
 Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. 
 A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again. 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell: 
 But hush ! hark 1 a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ' 
 
 Did ye not hear it ? No ; 't was but the wind, 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony, street. 
 On, with the dance I let joy be unconfined ! 
 No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying feetl 
 But hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat; 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before I 
 Arm ! arm ! it is — it is the cannon's opening roar ! 
 
 1 The Battle of 'Waterloo was one of the battles upon which the fate 
 of the world depended. The armies of all the gi-eat nations of Europe 
 were engaged in it. It was really an attempt to put down the great 
 Napoleon by the other European powers. In this they were successful. 
 The Duke of Wellington was commander in chief of the allied forces, 
 The battle was fought in Belgium, which was neutral ground. 
 
 2 In Brussels, the capital of Belgium, were gathered,many of those 
 who were opposed to Napoleon. When the battle began, a great many 
 were attending a grand ball. This occasion was made the theme of 
 the poem. 
 
164 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 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 loveliness ; 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 
 t'Tom, Portrait in British National Gallery. 
 DIKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 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? 
 
 And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car 
 
THE EVE OF WATERLOO. 
 
 16fi 
 
 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; 
 
 Paul Dblahochb. 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
 Or whispering with white lips, " The foe ! They come i 
 They come!" 
 
 And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 
 Dewy with Nature's tear-drops^ as they pass. 
 Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves. 
 Over the unreturning brave — alas ! 
 
166 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE.. 
 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 Which, now 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. 
 
 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, 
 Rider, and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial blent ! 
 
 XXXI. THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.* 
 
 By Lord Byron. 
 
 MY hair is gray, but not with years. 
 Nor grew it white 
 In a single night, 
 As men's have grown from sudden fears. 
 My limbs are bowed, though not with toil. 
 
 But rusted with a vile repose. 
 For they have been a dungeon's spoil, 
 And mine has been the fate of those 
 
 ' Chillon. A castle on Lake Geneva (or Leraan) in Switzerland, situ- 
 ated on a lonely rock, and famous as having been used as a prison for a 
 distinguished Swiss patriot in the sixteenth century. Hence this poem. 
 
THE PRISONER OF OHILLON. i67 
 
 To whom the goodly earth and air 
 Are banned and barred, — forbidden fare. 
 But this was for my father's faith 
 I suffered chains and courted death « 
 That father perished at the stake 
 For tenets he would not forsake ; 
 And for the same his lineal race 
 In darkness found a dwelling place. 
 We were seven, who are now one, 
 
 Six in youth and one in age, 
 Finished as they had begun, 
 
 Proud of Persecution's rage ; 
 One in fire, -and two in field, 
 Their belief with blood have sealed, 
 Dying- as their father died 
 For the God their foes denied ; 
 Three were in a dungeon cast. 
 Of whom this wreck is left the last. 
 
 ■ "iL 
 
 There are seven pillars of Gothic mold, 
 In Chillon's dungeons deep and old ; 
 There are seven columns, massy and gray, 
 Dim with a dull imprisoned ray, 
 A sunbeam which hath lost its way, 
 And through the crevice and the cleft 
 Of the thick wall is fallen and left, 
 Creeping o'er the floor so damp, 
 Like a marsh's meteor lamp ; 
 And in each pillar there is a ring. 
 
 And in each ring there is a chain. 
 That iron is a cankering thing, 
 
168 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 For in these limbs its teeth remain. 
 With marks that will not wear away, 
 Till I have done with this new day, 
 Which now is painful to these eyes, 
 Which have not seen the sun so rise 
 For years, — I cannot count them o'er; 
 I lost their long and heavy score 
 When my last brother drooped and died, 
 And I lay living by his side. 
 
 III. 
 
 They chained us each to a column stone, 
 And we were three, — yet, each alone. 
 We could not move a single pace, 
 We could not see each other's face, 
 But with that pale and livid light 
 That made us strangers in our sight- 
 And thus together, yet apart. 
 Fettered in hand, but joined in heart; 
 'T was still some solace, in the dearth 
 Of the pure elements of earth, 
 To hearken to each other's speech, 
 And each turn comforter to each. 
 With some new hope, or legend old. 
 Or song heroically bold ; 
 But even these at length grew cold. 
 Our voices took a dreary tone, 
 An echo of the dungeon stone, 
 A grating sound, not full and free 
 As they of yore were wont to be : 
 It might be fancy, but to me 
 They never sounded like our own. 
 
THE PRISONER OF OHILLON. 169 
 
 IV. 
 
 I was the eldest of the three, 
 And to uphold and cheer the rest 
 I ought to do, and did, my best, 
 And each did well in his degree. 
 
 The youngest, whom my father loved, 
 Because our mother's brow was given 
 To him, — with eyes as blue as Heaven, - 
 
 For him my soul was sorely moved : 
 And truly might it be distrest 
 To see such bird in such a nest; 
 Per he was beautiful as day, — 
 (When day was beautiful to me 
 As to young eagles, being free), — 
 A polar day which will not see 
 A sunset till its summer's gone. 
 
 Its sleepless summer of long light. 
 The snow-clad offspring of the sun; 
 
 And thus he was as pure and bright. 
 And in his natural spirit gay. 
 With tears for naught but others' ills, 
 And then they flowed like mountain riUs 
 Unless he could assuage the woe 
 Which he abhorred to view below. 
 
 V. 
 
 The other was as pure of mind. 
 But formed to combat with his kind , 
 Strong in his frame, and of a mood 
 Which 'gainst the world in war had stood, 
 
170 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And perished in the foremost rank 
 With joy, — but not in chains to pine ; 
 
 His spirit withered with their clank ; 
 I saw it silently decline, 
 And so perchance in sooth did mine; 
 
 But yet I forced it on to cheer 
 
 Those relics of a home so dear. 
 
 He was a hunter of the hills, 
 
 Had followed there the deer and wolf; 
 To him this dungeon was a gulf, 
 
 And fettered feet the worst of ills. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls, 
 A thousand feet in depth below 
 Its massy waters meet and flow; 
 Thus much the fathom line was sent 
 From Chillon's snow-white battlement, 
 
 Which round about the wave enthralls. 
 A double dungeon wall and wave 
 Have made, — and like a living grave, 
 Below the surface of the lake 
 The dark vault lies wherein we lay. 
 We heard it ripple night and day ; 
 
 Sounding o'er our heads it knocked. 
 And I have felt the winter's spray 
 Wash through the bars when winds were high, 
 And wanton in the happy sky ; 
 
 And then the very rock hath rocked, 
 
 And I have felt it shake unshocked, 
 Because I could have smiled to see 
 The death that would have set me free. 
 
THE PRISONER OF OHILLON. 
 
 171 
 
.'72 STEPPING STONES TO UTERATTTRE. 
 
 vn. 
 
 I said my nearer brother pined, 
 I said his mighty heart declined. 
 He loathed and put away his food , 
 It was not that 'twas coarse and rude, 
 For -we were used to hunter's fare, 
 And for the like had little care. 
 The milk drawn from the mountain goat 
 Was changed for water from the moat; 
 Our bread was such as captives' tears 
 Have moistened many a thousand years. 
 Since man first pent his fellow-men 
 Like brutes within an iron den; 
 But what were these to us or him ? 
 These wasted not his heart or limb. 
 My brother's soul was of that mold 
 Which in a palace had grown cold, 
 Had his free breathing been denied 
 The range of the steep mountain's side; 
 But why delay the truth? — he died. 
 I saw and could not hold his head. 
 Nor reach his dying hand, — nor dead, - 
 Though hard I strove, but strove in vain, 
 To rend and gnash my bonds in twain. 
 He died, — and they unlocked his chain, 
 And scooped for him a shallow grave 
 Even from the cold earth of our cave. 
 r begged them, as a boon, to lay 
 His corse m dust whereon the day 
 Might shine; it was a foolish thought, 
 But then within my brain it wrought. 
 
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. 173 
 
 That even in death his free-born breast 
 In such a dungeon could not rest. 
 I might have spared my idle prayer; 
 They coldly laughed, and laid him there: 
 The flat and turfless earth above 
 The being we so much did love ; 
 His empty chain above it leant, 
 Such murder's fitting monument! 
 
 But he, the favorite and the flower, 
 
 Most cherished since his natal hour, 
 
 His mother's image in fair face, 
 
 The infant love of all his race, 
 
 His martyred father's dearest thought, 
 
 My latest care, for whom I sought 
 
 To hoard my life, that his might be 
 
 Less wretched now, and one day free; 
 
 He, too, who yet had held untired 
 
 A spirit natural or inspired, — 
 
 He, too, was struck, and day by day 
 
 Was withered on the stalk away. 
 
 He faded, and so calm and meek. 
 
 So softly worn, so sweetly weak, 
 
 So tearless, yet so tender-kind, 
 
 And grieved for those he left behind; 
 
 With all the while a cheek whose bloom 
 
 Was as a mockery of the tomb, 
 
 Whose tints as gently sunk away 
 
 As a departing rainbow's ray ; 
 
 An eye of most transparent lights 
 
174 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 That almost made the dungeon bright* 
 
 And not a word of murmur, — not 
 
 A groan o'er his untimely lot; 
 
 A little talk of better days, 
 
 A little hope my own to raise, 
 
 For I was sunk in silence, — lost 
 
 In this last loss, of all the most ; 
 
 And then the sighs he would suppress 
 
 Of fainting nature's feebleness. 
 
 More slowly drawn, grew less and less. 
 
 I listened, but I could not hear ; 
 
 I called, for I was wild with fear; 
 
 I knew 't was hopeless, but my dread 
 
 Would not be thus admonished; 
 
 I called, and thought I heard a sound, — 
 
 I burst my chain with one strong bound. 
 
 And rushed to him : I found him not, 
 
 I only stirred in this black spot, 
 
 I only lived, I only drew 
 
 The accursed breath of dungeon dew. 
 
 The last, — the sole — the dearest link 
 
 Between me and the eternal brink, 
 
 Which bound me to my failing race. 
 
 Was broken in this fatal place. 
 
 One on the earth, and one beneath, — 
 
 My brothers, — both had ceased to breatha 
 
 I took that hand which lay so stUl, 
 
 Alas I my own was full as chill ; 
 
 I had not strength to stir or strive, 
 
 But felt that I was still alive, — 
 
 A frantic feeling when we know 
 
 That what we love shall ne'er be so. 
 
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. 175 
 
 I know not why 
 
 I could not die, 
 I had no earthly hope but faith, 
 And that forbade a selfish death. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A light broke in upon my brain. 
 
 It was the carol of a bird ; 
 It ceased, and then it came again, 
 
 The sweetest song ear ever heard. 
 And mine was thankful till mine eyes 
 Ran over with the glad surprise, 
 And they that moment could not see 
 I was the mate of misery; 
 But then by dull degrees came back 
 My senses to their wonted track. 
 I saw the dungeon walls and floor 
 Close slowly round me as before; 
 I saw the glimmer of the sun 
 Creeping as it before had done, 
 But through the crevice where it came 
 That bird was perched, as fond and tame. 
 
 And tamer than upon the tree ; 
 A lovely bird, with azure wings, 
 And song that said a thousand things, 
 
 And seemed to say them all for me I 
 I never saw its like before, 
 I ne'er shall see its likeness more. 
 It seemed like me to want a mate. 
 But was not half so desolate, 
 And it was come to love me when 
 
,76 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 None lived to love me so again. 
 And cheering from my dungeon's brink. 
 Had brought me back to feel and think. 
 I know not if it late were free, 
 
 Or broke its cage to perch on mine, 
 But knowing well captivity. 
 
 Sweet bird I I could not wish for thine, 
 Or if it were, in winged guise, 
 A visitant from Paradise; 
 For — Heaven forgive that thought! the while 
 Which made me both to weep and smUe — 
 I sometimes deemed that it might be 
 My brother's soul come down to me; 
 But then at last away it flew, 
 And then 'twas mortal, well I knew, 
 For he would never thus have flown. 
 And left me twice so doubly lone, — 
 Lone as the corse within its shroud. 
 Lone as a solitary cloud, 
 
 A single cloud on a sunny^day. 
 While all the rest of Heaven is clear, 
 A frown upon the atmosphere. 
 That hath no business to appear 
 
 When skies are blue and earth is gay. 
 
 X. 
 
 A kind of change came in my fate, 
 My keepers grew compassionate; 
 I know not what had made them so, 
 That were inured to sights of woe. 
 But so it was : my broken chain 
 With links unfastened did remain. 
 
THE PRISONER OF CHIL.L.ON. 177 
 
 And it was liberty to stride 
 Along my cell from side to side, 
 And up and down, and then athwart, 
 And tread it over every part; 
 And round the pillars one by one. 
 Returning where my walk begun, 
 Avoiding only, as I trod, 
 My brothers' graves without a sod; 
 For if I thought with heedless tread 
 My step profaned their lowly bed, 
 My breath came gaspingly and thick. 
 And my crushed heart felt blind and sick 
 
 XI. 
 
 I made a footing iji the wall ; 
 
 It was not therefrom to escape, 
 For I had buried one and all 
 
 Who loved me in a human shape; 
 And the whole earth would henceforth be 
 A wider prison unto me. 
 No child, no sire, no kin had I, 
 No partner in my misery; 
 I thought of this, and I was glad. 
 For thought of them had made me mad; 
 But I was curious to ascend 
 To my barred windows, and to bend 
 Once more upon the mountains high. 
 The quiet of a loving eye. 
 
 XII. 
 I saw them and they were the same. 
 They were not changed like me in frame; 
 
178 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 I saw their thousand years of snow 
 On high, — their wide long lake below, 
 And the blue Rhone in fullest flow; 
 I heard the torrents leap and gush 
 O'er channeled rock and broken bufeh; 
 I saw the white-walled distant town, 
 And whiter sails go skimming down, 
 And then there was a little isle, 
 Which in my very face did smile, 
 
 The only one in view; 
 A small green isle it seemed, no more. 
 Scarce broader than my dimgeon floor, 
 But in it there were three tall trees. 
 And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, 
 And by it there were waters flowing, 
 And on it there were young flowers growing. 
 
 Of gentle breath and hue. 
 The fish swam by the castle wall. 
 And they seemed joyous, each and all; 
 The eagle rode the rising blast; 
 Methought he never flew so fast 
 As then to me he seemed to fly, 
 And then new tears came in my eye, 
 And I felt troubled, and would fain 
 I had not left my recent chain; 
 And, when I did descend again, 
 The darkness of mj dim abode 
 Fell on me as a heavy load; 
 It was as is a new-dug grave 
 
 Closing o'er one we sought to save, 
 
 And yet my glance, too much opprest, 
 Had almost need of such a rest. 
 
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. 179 
 
 xm. 
 
 It might be months, or years, or days, 
 
 I kept no count, I took no note, 
 T had no hope my eyes to raise, 
 
 And clear them of their dreary mote , 
 At last men came to set me free, 
 
 I asked not why, and recked not where. 
 It was at length the same to me, 
 ^ Fettered or fetterless to be, — 
 y^>^ I learned to love despair. 
 / And thus when they appeared at last, 
 And all my bonds aside were cast, 
 These heavy walls to me had grown 
 A hermitage, — and all my own I 
 And half I felt as they were come 
 To tear me from a second home; 
 With spiders I had friendship made. 
 And watched them in their sullen trade. 
 Had seen the mice by moonlight play, 
 And why should I feel less than they* 
 We were all inmates of one place. 
 And I, the monarch of each race, 
 Had power to kill, — yet, strange to tell 1 
 In quiet we had learned to dwell. 
 My very chains and I grew friends, — 
 So much a long communion tends 
 To make us what we are, — even I 
 Regained my freedom with a sigh. 
 
 
180 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XXXII. LOCHIEL'S WARNING. 
 
 By Thomas Campbell.* 
 (1777-1844.) 
 
 SEER. Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day 
 When the lowlands shall meet thee in battle array I 
 For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, 
 And the clans of Culloden^ are scattered in fight. 
 They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown ; 
 Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down I 
 Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain. 
 And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. 
 But hark I through the fast flashing lightning of war, 
 What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? 
 'T is thine, Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, 
 Like a love-lighted watch fire, all night at the gate. 
 A steed comes at morning : no rider is there ; 
 But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. 
 Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! 
 Oh, weep 1 but thy tears cannot number the dead ; 
 For a merciless sword on CuUoden shall wave, — 
 CuUoden, that reeks with the blood of the brave I 
 
 Lochiel. Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling 
 seerl 
 Or, il gory CuUoden so dreadful appear, 
 
 ' Thomas Campbell was a Scotch poet and critic, some of whose 
 poems are among the finest in the English language. 
 
 ' Cullo'den, a battlefield in Scotland where, in 1746, the Royalists, 
 ander the Duke of Cumberland, defeated the Highlanders led by Prince 
 Charles Edward, the Pretender. 
 
' LOCHIEXi'S WARNING. 18 i 
 
 Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight 
 This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. 
 
 Seer. Ha I laugh'st thou, Loehiel, my vision to scorn ? 
 Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn I 
 Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth, 
 From his home in the dark rolling clouds of the north? 
 Lo I the death shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode 
 Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; 
 But down let him stoop from his havoc on high I 
 Ah 1 home let him speed, — for the spoiler is nigh. 
 Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast 
 Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 
 'T is the fire shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven 
 From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. 
 O crested Loehiel 1 the peerless in might. 
 Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, 
 Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn ; 
 Return to thy dwelling I all lonely return I 
 For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood. 
 And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood. 
 
 Loch. False wizard, avaunt 1 I have marshaled my clan, 
 Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are onel 
 They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, 
 And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. 
 Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock I 
 Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the cock! 
 But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, 
 When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ; 
 When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, 
 Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud, 
 AU plaided and plumed in their tartan array — 
 
182 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE.^ - 
 
 Seer. Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day ! 
 For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal. 
 But man cannot cover what God would reveal. 
 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, • 
 And coming events cast their shadows before. 
 I tell thee, CuUoden's dread echoes shall ring 
 With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king. 
 Lo ! anointed by heaven with the vials of wrath. 
 Behold where he flies on his desolate path ! 
 Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight; 
 Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight ! 
 'T is finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ; 
 CuUoden is lost and my country deplores. 
 But where is the iron-bound prisoner ? Where ? 
 For the -red eye of battle is shut in despair. 
 Say, mounts he the ocean wave, banished, forlorn. 
 Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn? 
 Ah, no ! for a darker departure is near ; 
 The war drum is muffled, and black is the bier; 
 His death bell is tolling ; Oh, mercy ! dispel 
 Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! 
 Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs. 
 And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. 
 Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, 
 Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat, 
 With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale — 
 
 Loch. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: 
 For never shall Albin a destiny meet. 
 So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. 
 Though my perishing ranks should.be strewed in their gore. 
 Like ocean weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, 
 
THE DEATH OF MOSES. 183 
 
 Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, 
 
 While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, 
 
 Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low. 
 
 With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe 
 
 And leaving in battle no blot on his name, 
 
 Look proudly to heaven from the deathbed of fame. 
 
 XXXIII. THE DEATH OF MOSES. 
 
 Dbdtebonomy, Chap, xxxiv. 1-8. 
 
 AND Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the 
 mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over 
 against Jericho: and the Lord shewed him all the land 
 of Gilead, unto Dan, 
 
 And all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manas- 
 seh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, 
 
 And the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, 
 the city of the palm trees, unto Zoar. 
 
 And the Lord said unto him, " This is the land which I 
 sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, 
 I will give it unto thy seed: I have caused thee to see 
 it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither." 
 
 So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land 
 of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. 
 
 And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over 
 against Beth-peor: but no man knoweth of his sepulcher 
 unto this day. 
 
 And Moses was an hundred and twenty years old 
 when he died : his eye was not dim, nor his natural force 
 abated. 
 
184 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And the children of Israel wept for Moses in the plains 
 
 of Moab thirty days : so the days of weeping and moui-n- 
 
 ing for Moses were ended. 
 
 From the Bible. 
 
 B 
 
 XXXIV. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 
 
 By Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexandeb. 
 ( 1830- .) 
 Y Nebo's lonely mountain, 
 
 On this side Jordan's wave, 
 In a vale in the land of Moab, 
 
 There lies a lonely grave ; 
 And no man knows that sepulcher, 
 
 And no man saw it e'er, 
 For the angels of God upturned the sod. 
 
 And laid the dead man there. 
 
 That was the grandest funeral 
 
 That ever passed on earth; 
 But no man heard the trampling, 
 
 Or saw the train go forth, — 
 Noiselessly as the daylight 
 
 Comes back when night is done, 
 And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 
 
 Grows into the great sun, — 
 
 Noiselessly as the springtime 
 Her crown of verdure weaves. 
 
 And all the trees on all the hills 
 Open their thousand leaves : 
 
THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 
 
 185 
 
 MlCHELANaELO. 
 
 MOSES. 
 
186 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 So without sound of music,' 
 
 Or voice of them that wept, 
 Silently down from the mountain's crowt. 
 
 The great procession swept. 
 
 Perchance the bald old eagle. 
 
 On gray Beth-peor's height. 
 Out of his lonely eyrie. 
 
 Looked on the wondrous sight: 
 Perchance the lion stalking 
 
 Still shuns that hallowed spot, 
 For beast and bird have seen and heard 
 
 That which man knoweth not. 
 
 But when the warrior dieth, 
 
 His comrades in the war, 
 With arms reversed and muffled drum. 
 
 Follow his funeral car: 
 They show the banners taken. 
 
 They tell his battles won. 
 And after him lead his masterless steed. 
 
 While peals the minute gun. 
 
 Amid the noblest of the land 
 
 We lay the sage to rest, 
 And give the bard an honored place, 
 
 With costly marble drest. 
 In the great minster transept 
 
 Where lights like glories fall. 
 And the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings, 
 
 Alonsr the emblazoned wall. 
 
THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 187 
 
 This was the truest warrior 
 
 That ever buckled sword, — 
 This the most gifted poet 
 
 That ever breathed a word , 
 And never earth's philosopher 
 
 Traced with his golden pen. 
 On the deathless page, truths half so sage 
 
 As he wrote down for men. 
 
 And had he not high honor— 
 
 The hillside for a pall,— 
 To lie in state while angels wait, 
 
 With stars for tapers tall, — 
 And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, 
 
 Over his bier to wave. 
 And God's own hand in that lonely land, 
 
 To lay him in the grave? 
 
 In that strange grave without a name, 
 
 Whence his uncoffined clay 
 Shall break again, O wondrous thought! 
 
 Before the Judgment Day, 
 And stand, with glory wrapt around. 
 
 On the hills he never trod, 
 And speak of the strife that won our life. 
 
 With the Incarnate Son of God. 
 
 O lonely grave in Moab's land I 
 
 O dark Beth-peor's hill I 
 Speak to these curious hearts of ouis, 
 
 And teach them to be still. 
 
188 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 (iod hath his mysteries of grace. 
 
 Ways that we caimot tell ; 
 He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep 
 
 Of Him He loved so well. 
 
 XXXV. ROME AND THE ROMANS. 
 
 T 
 
 ^HE Greeks lived on a peninsula 
 which extended through the south- 
 em part of Europe down into the great 
 sea toward Africa. To the westward of 
 Greece is another peninsula extending 
 in the same direction. It is long and 
 narrow, shaped, as your geographies tell 
 you, like a boot; you know it as Italy. 
 
 On this peninsula there lived in an- 
 cient times a people no less famous than 
 the Greeks, though they were very dif- 
 erent from them. These people were 
 the Romans. Their capital city, Rome, 
 stood on the banks of the River Tiber, 
 and became the most famous city in the .world. The 
 Romans did not have the same love for beauty that the 
 Greeks had; they were a commoner and coarser people, 
 but honest, industrious, and frugal. They lived very simply 
 and very plainly in towns and on their farms. This was 
 before they learned luxury from the Greeks and the people 
 of the far East. Although they did not have as great 
 artists, poets, and writers of history as had the Greeks, 
 they had greater soldiers. 
 
 A Roman Soldier 
 
ROME AND THE ROMANS. 
 
 189 
 
 No people have ever lived who were braver in war than 
 the Romans.. So warlike were they, and so skillful in 
 leading armies and fighting battles, that although at first 
 they were but a little community on the banks of the Tiber 
 in Italy, they soon conquered all the known world, and 
 at last there was not a civilized people which did not have 
 a Roman ruler. This was not only because they were good 
 soldiers, but also because they knew how to govern. 
 
 Before the Romans, no nations ever had a system of 
 government that could compare with theii-s. And even 
 to-day very many of 
 the best features in our 
 form of government 
 have come down from 
 the Romans ; just as 
 many of the best things 
 in art and literature 
 are copied after what 
 the Greeks produced 
 so many years ago. 
 
 Like all people, the Romans traced their history back as 
 far as they could. But written history did not go back 
 very far, and what happened in the earlier times was told 
 by father to son, and so handed down fx-om one generation 
 to another ; and of course these stories became very much 
 changed, and it was difficult to tell just what really happened, 
 and what was imagined by those who told the stories. 
 
 The Romans worshiped gods very much like those of 
 the Greeks, though they had not imagined so many beauti- 
 ful stories about them, and had not represented them so 
 beautifully in art. So when the Romans became acquainted 
 with the Greeks, saw their works of art, read their books. 
 
 Implements of 
 Writing 
 
190 
 
 STEPPING STOKTES TO LITERATURK 
 
 and learned that their gods were quite like those adored 
 by themselves, they gradually came to call their oWn gods 
 by the Greek names, and to teU all the beautiful stories 
 about them that the Greeks told of theirs. Thus they 
 often caUed their own Jupiter by the Greet name Zeus, 
 and Juno by the name of Hera. - 
 
 Virgil is the Latin poet who has best shown that the 
 Roman and the Greek gods are the same. But the Romans 
 had a few gods which were peculiarly their own ; such an 
 one was ^esta, the goddess of the home. They had very 
 great respect for Vesta, and made much of her worship. 
 Her priestesses were known as Vestal Virgins, and were very 
 highly esteemed. The love and worshTp"of this goddess show 
 one of the noblest virtues of the Romans, for they were great 
 lovers of home ; this is one reason why they were better and 
 nobler than the Greeks, although they were less artistic. 
 
 RUINS OF THE COLISEUM, AT ROME. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF ROME. 
 
 191 
 
 XXXVI. THE BEGINNING OF ROME. 
 
 A Rqman Sttotoaru. 
 
 IN ancient Troy there lived a noble 
 prince of royal blood whose name 
 was Anchises.^ He was so noble in char- 
 acter, and withal so handsome, that Venus, 
 goddess of love and beauty, loved him 
 and gave herself to him in marriage, thus 
 becoming the wife of a mortal. They 
 had a son, ^neas,^ no less noble than his 
 father, over whom his goddess-mother 
 exercised protecting care. During the 
 Trojan War he was one of the bravest of 
 the heroes who fought for their homes. 
 
 After the capture of Troy, ^neas was one of the few to 
 escape alive from the burning city. He had done all that 
 he could to save the palace of the king and the lives of 
 the royal family ; but finding it in vain, and seeing that 
 all who remained were doomed to destruction, he hastened 
 to his own home. 
 
 Tellmg his wife Creusa ^ to follow him closely, he placed 
 his aged father Anchises upon his shoulders, took his little 
 boy Aseanius* by the hand, and made his way in safety 
 through the bands of victorious Greeks, through the ruins 
 of the city, to a sheltered place outside the walls by a little 
 arm of the sea. His vrife Creusa he never saw again. 
 fn some way, during their flight through the darkness, 
 she became separated from her husband, and perished in 
 
 • An-cbi'ses (An-ki'ses). 
 s jE-ae'aa (E-ne'as). 
 
 • Cre-u'sa (Kre-u'sah). 
 
 * As-ca'ni-UB. 
 
193 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 the ruins He mourned her loss, but bravely set to work 
 to save his father and son. 
 
 A few of the Trojans gathered in the same place, and 
 decided to follow ^neas as their leader in search of a new 
 home in foreign lands. They built ships, and put into them 
 such provisions as they could get, and set sail, a homeless 
 and desolate band, across an unknown sea. 
 
 The ships in which JEneas and his little company sailed 
 were not such vessels as would now be used by one sailing 
 on the great sea. For in ancient times the power of steam 
 was unknown, and the sailors did not know how to use 
 sails except when they were going directly before the wind ; 
 but they relied upon oars to drive the ships wherever 
 they wished to go, so that these ships were nothing more 
 than very large rowboats with many rowers to propel them. 
 Hence, a storm through which a modern steamer could go 
 with little difficulty, might cause great distress to one of 
 the awkward little vessels in which -^neas's company 
 sailed. 
 
 Virgil has given us in his " ^neid " a long account of 
 the journey of these wanderers. He tells us how they were 
 driven ashore on many lands, often suffering shipwreck. 
 The perils that they met from the deep and from savages 
 who lived on the land are almost past belief. After many 
 months of wandering they landed at Carthage, — a city on 
 the northern coast of Africa which Queen Dido and her 
 people were building. Dido received ^neas kindly, and 
 offered to share her kingdom with him. Finally he con- 
 sented, and they were married ; but the gods who watched 
 over ^neas, and admired his courage and piety, had some- 
 thing better in store for him, and were not pleased that he 
 should marry Dido and settle down in Carthage. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF ROME. 193 
 
 So Jupiter sent his messenger, Mercury, who told JEneas 
 that he was doing wrong, and that he must at once leave 
 Carthage and its queen, and embark again upon the stormy 
 sea, and sail until he found the land over which the gods 
 intended him to rule. 
 
 ^neas obeyed the gods, gathered together lais followers, 
 many of whom had already found homes in the new city, 
 secretly prepared his ships, and set sail from Carthage. But 
 Dido, who really loved iEneas, was enraged and heartbroken 
 at his departure. She did not know that the gods had 
 ordered this cruel conduct; so she built a funeral pile, 
 called her people aromid her, made them promise to avenge 
 her death upon the followers and descendants of JEneas, 
 and then killed herself. 
 
 The Carthaginians mourned for Queen Dido, and burned 
 her body with the funeral pile, as was their custom. As' 
 the Trojans were sailing out of the harbor, on looking back 
 they saw the light from the burning pile shining across the 
 water. From thab time, there was bitter hatred between the 
 people of Carthage and the descendants of J^neas, and there 
 was always war between Rome and Carthage until Carthage 
 was destroyed. 
 
 After encountering more perils, and again suffering ship- 
 wreck, ^neas and his baud finally landed on the coast of 
 Italy near the mouth of the river Tiber. Here they dis- 
 covered the sign that the gods had promised, to show that 
 they had at last found a home. 
 
 'ilie country at whose shores they had arrived was an 
 ancient land sacred to the gods. Its first king had been 
 Janus, the sun god. Here old Saturn, the father of the 
 Greek gods/ had dwelt after he had been driven from 
 Olympus by Zeus. The people up to his time had been 
 
194 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 shepherds, but Saturn taught them how to till the fields, 
 and how to sow and reap the grains. 
 ~This country was called Latium, and its king at the time 
 when ^neas came to its shores bore the name Latinus, and 
 the people Latini. Hence, even to-day, the language which 
 the Romans spoke is known as Latin. This good king wel 
 corned the sti'anger, and gave to him his daughter Lavinia as 
 his wife, and to his companions seven hundred acres of land, 
 '^agas lived and ruled with Latinus for some time, and 
 aided him in his wars with the neighboring peoples. Bui 
 
 . one day during a battle, all at once the hero disappeared in 
 the midst of the waters of the River Numicius. The gods 
 had taken liim to the heavens. The waters of this river 
 were ever after deemed sacred, and were used in the wor- 
 ship of Vesta, the goddess of the home, and the noblest and 
 best of all the Roman deities, .^neas, too, was over after 
 worshiped by the Roman people as a god. 
 
 Ascanius, who was a little boy holding his father by the 
 
 • hand when they fled from Troy, was now a powerful and 
 noble man. He became king, and ruled with great glory. 
 He built a new city, which he called Alba Longa, the Long 
 White City. After his death many kings, his descendants, 
 reigned in Latium ; till finally one of them, Procas, died, 
 leaving two sons, each of whom wanted to be king. 
 
 Numitor • was the elder, and should have been king ; but 
 Amulius 2 was the stronger, and he took the kingdom, killed 
 his brother's son, and made his daughter Sylvia a priestess 
 of Vesta. These priestesses were not allowed to marry, and 
 he felt sure that Numitor would have no heirs to contest 
 the throne with him. 
 But the gods did not mean that such wickedness should 
 ' Na'mi-tor. ' A,muU-aB 
 
THE BEGINNING OF ROME. 
 
 195 
 
 succeed. Sylvia was very beautiful. So beautiful and 
 lovely in character was sbe, that one day the god Mars, who 
 chanced to be walking on the earth, espied her, and loved 
 her at once so greatly that he proposed to make her his wife. 
 
 ROMULUS AND REMUS (Page ^96). 
 
 She forgot her Vestal vows, thinking it must be right to 
 marry a god, became his -wife, and they had beautiful twin 
 boys. The king was very angry that Sylvia should have 
 married, contrary to the laws of the Vestal Virgins, and 
 ordered her to be put to death, and the cradJe with tbe 
 
-eci sti:pping stones to literature. 
 
 babies to be placed in the River Tiber, that they might per- 
 ish from exposure. But though their mother was no more, 
 their father Mars did not desert them. The river had 
 overflowed its banks, and the cradle was washed ashore, 
 landing under a wild fig tree. Mars sent to the babies a 
 wolf, who took care of them with her own baby wolves. 
 Then he sent a hawk to carry them some food, and other 
 birds to hover over the cradle and keep away the insects. 
 
 A certain shepherd in charge of the king's flocks came 
 upon the children as they were being nursed by the wolf. 
 He was overcome with astonishment, and stood a long 
 while watching them, until he saw the birds also come and 
 bring food to them. Then he knew that they must be 
 watched over by some god to whom they were dear ; so he 
 took them home, and gave them to his wife to care for them. 
 These two boys grew up wild and strong, like the children 
 of the shepherd, with whom they lived in his hut of straw. 
 They used to fight wild beasts and robbers, and showed then- 
 noble birth by their courage and their natural leadership. 
 
 Although no one knew that they were of royal blood, 
 they had scarcely grown up to young manhood before they 
 each had a band of followers, with whom they used to go 
 out hunting, and driving away the brigands who came to 
 rob the king. 
 
 Numitor, the king's brother, although he had been de- 
 prived of his rights as king, still lived a very rich man, in the 
 kingdom. One day a quarrel arose between the shepherds 
 of Numitor and Romulus and Remus, who were with the 
 king's shepherds, in the course of which Romulus and Remus 
 fell into an ambush, were captured, and led before Numitor. 
 
 The moment Numitor saw the boys he was impressed 
 with their appearance : they bore the family likeness : and 
 
THK BEGINNING OF ROME. 197 
 
 from their apparent age, they must have been bom not far 
 from the time when his own unhappy daughter Sylvia's 
 babies were placed in the waters of the Tiber by the com- 
 mand of the cruel king. 
 
 Faustulus, the good shepherd who had brought up the 
 boys, hearing of their capture, followed them to Numitor's 
 palace, and seeing that Numitor had become interested in 
 them, told him all the story, — how he had found the babies 
 cared for by a wolf, and had seen the cradle standing under 
 a fig tree on the banks of the Tiber. He presented so many 
 proofs, that there was no doubt left in Numitor's mind. 
 These were his owa grandsons. He made himself known 
 to them, and welcomed them to his palace. 
 
 As soon as they knew that they were the grandsons of 
 the dethroned king, they determined to regain the kingdom 
 for their grandfather. So taking the bands of young men 
 with whom they had been accustomed to fight wild beasts 
 and robbers, they attacked the king and his followers. The 
 king was slain in the battle, and Numitor, the rightful 
 sovereign, was finally placed upon the throne. Their grate- 
 ful grandfather gave Romulus and Remus a large tract of 
 land on the banks of the Tiber, and told them that, they 
 might there build a city, and rule over it themselves. 
 
 Immediately they began to dispute as to the name and 
 site of the town ; Remus wanting to give it one name and 
 Romulus another, and each had his own favorite spot for 
 building. Finally they decided to leave it to the gods, to 
 be settled by a flight of birds, as was then the custom in 
 cases of dispute. So they sat down, each on his favorite hill, 
 to watch for the birds. Soon Remus saw six vultures fly- 
 ing over, but almost at the same time Romulus saw twelve, 
 and Iheix coaiparioiui decided that the gods favored him. 
 
193 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATUBK 
 
 Komulos said that the town should be built on his hill, 
 called the Palatine. Then he yoked together a bull and a 
 heifer, and with a bronze plow marked out the plan of the 
 future city. With the aid of his companions, he began to 
 build a little mud wall to mark it still more plainly. 
 ""Wliile he was doing this, Remus, jealous of the choice of 
 Romulus and laughing at the small beginnings, leaped over 
 the wall in derision. One of Romulus's companions, named 
 Celer, or the Quick One, crying out, "Thus perish every 
 one who shall cross these walls," struck Remus at once 
 with such violence that it killed him. 
 
 Thus Romulus was left sole ruler of the new town, which 
 he called Rome after his own name. With his little band 
 of followers, he built his wall higher, so that they could 
 easily defend themselves from the attacks of the wild tribes 
 living around them. In order to draw more people to his 
 town, Romulus built an asylum, or place of refuge, for those 
 who had been in trouble in their own towns or for any 
 reason had been driven away from their homes, till soon he 
 had a large number of people living within the mud walls of 
 his little village. Many of them were wild and rough, but 
 they were brave. 
 
 They were all men, and they wanted wives to make 
 homes for them. Romulus asked the people of the neigh- 
 boring towns to become friends with them and allow their 
 daughters to be mamed to the men of Rome, but they all 
 refused with scorn. "Open an asylum for women too," 
 they said. Romulus and his people were not pleased, you 
 may be sure, with these answers, and they decided to try 
 other ways to get wives for themselves. 
 
 A great festival was held by the people of that region in 
 honor of some god ; men, women, and children were there. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF ROME. 
 
 199 
 
200 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 In the midst of the festivities, Romulus and his men rushed 
 in and seized as many of tlie unmarried girk as they could. 
 These they carried off with them to Rome and married 
 them, though they were unwilling brides. But the Romans 
 were not so cruel as they had been supposed' to be. They 
 treated their new wives with so great kindness that before 
 long they had won their love, and the women began to be 
 proTid of their Roman husbands. 
 
 The people of the cities whose maidens had been thus 
 taken and married by force to the wild young men of the 
 new city, took up arms at once to win back the girls; but 
 the Romans were too strong for them. Finally the Sabines, 
 led by their king, Tatius, were more successful than the 
 others had been ; they broke through the outer wall and 
 secured possession of all but the citadel or central hill, 
 which was surrounded by a strong inner wall, and on which 
 all the Romans with their new wives were staying for safety. 
 
 For a long time the Romans successfully defended them- 
 selves here, but finally Tarpeia,* one of the captured girls, 
 who seemed to have been a vain and fickle damsel, went 
 secretly to the Sabines and said to them, " If you will give 
 me what you wear on your left arms, I will open the gates 
 for you at night." She expected to receive the golden 
 bracelets which the Sabines all wore. They promised, and 
 she opened the gate, when they all threw upon her their 
 heavy shields, — and killed her with the weight. 
 
 The Sabines, having thus gaineu admission to the citadel, 
 and having surprised the Romans unarmed, were at first 
 successful. But Romulus, the son of Mars, whose courage 
 never failed him, seeing his followers beginning to flee, 
 rushed before them, and made a vow to Jupiter to build 
 ' Tar-pe'ia (Tarpfi'ya). 
 
THE BEGINNING OF ROME. SOI 
 
 him a temple if he would stay the fight. Scarcely had he 
 spoken when a wonderful thing liappened. 
 
 The captive Sabine women, standing on the highest parts 
 of the citadel, had watched the battle with great distress ; 
 on one side were their fathers and brothers, whom they 
 had loved from childhood, and on the other their hus- 
 bands, whom they had learned to love since their capture. 
 Suddenly they rushed down the hill and threw them- 
 selves between the two armies, embracing now their hus- 
 bands, and now their fathers and brothers. They begged 
 them to put an end to the fight. The warriors on both 
 sides yielded to the entreaties of the women, a peace was 
 . made, and the two nations became one. Janus, a god with 
 two heads, became the symbol of the new nation. 
 
 After a few years, Tatius,^ king of the Sabines, was killed 
 in battle ; then the Sabines chose Romulus for their king, 
 and from that time he was ruler over both nations, which 
 had now become really one. This was the beginning of 
 Rome. Romulus reigned many years, conquering the 
 neighboring tribes, and making his kingdom larger and 
 more powerful each year. 
 
 One day, when he was reviewing his army, a great storm 
 arose. So violent was it that the people all fled to places 
 of safety. Soon the storm passed and the people returned ; 
 but King Romulus was nowhere to be seen, nor was he 
 ever seen again by mortal eye. But Proculus,^ a senator, 
 declared that he had seen him ascending to the heavens, in 
 the midst of thunder and lightning, in the chariot of his 
 father Mars, who had come down to earth to claim his son. 
 The Romans ever after worshiped Romulus as a god, 
 under the name Quirinus.^ 
 
 1 Ta'titia (shus). ^ Proc'u-lus. ^ Qui-ri'nus. 
 
20S STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 These are some of the stories which the Romans told of 
 the beginnings of their city. We cannot tell how much of 
 them is truth, or how much was added by the imaginations 
 of the people, as the tales passed from mouth to moutb 
 through many generations before they were written down. 
 At any rate, they show us the character of the Roman 
 people, and enable us to understand how, by the exercise of 
 courage and the manly virtues, the inhabitants of the little 
 village on the Tiber grew into the most powerful nation in 
 the world- 
 
 XXXVII. THE HORATII AND THE CURIATII. 
 
 AFTER the death of Romulus six kings are said to have 
 ruled over the Romans, each being elected in turn by 
 the people. Some, like Numa, were peaceful kings, and de- 
 veloped law and order among the Romans ; others, such as 
 TuUus, were warriors, and spread the Roman power over 
 the neighboring tribes. 
 
 Alba Longa, the mother city, founded by Ascanius, had, 
 by degrees, become a stranger to her colony, Rome. From 
 jealousy or some other cause, an unfriendly feeling grew up 
 between the two cities, which finally ended in a war. Two 
 great armies were raised, — one of Romans and one of 
 Albans. 
 
 In each army were many friends and relatives of those in 
 the other, and they could not endure the thought of fighting 
 one another. For a long time they stood face to face, 
 neither wishing to begin the terrible strife in which friends 
 might be forced to kill friends. 
 
 There was in each army a family of three brothers of 
 equal age ; those of the Romans being called Horatii, and 
 
THE HORATII AND THE CURIATII. 203 
 
 those of the Albans being called Curiatii. It was agreed 
 that these brothers should fight three against three, and 
 that the armies should submit to the result of their battle. 
 
 When the conditions had all been made, the herald of 
 the Romans thus proclaimed : " Hear, Jupiter I hear. Father 
 of the Alban people ! hear, too, Alban people I The Roman 
 people will never be the first to violate the conditions writ- 
 ten on these tablets which have been read to you, from the 
 first line to the last, without fraud or falsehood. From this 
 day they are clearly understood by all. If it should happen 
 that by public deliberation or unworthy deceit the Roman 
 people has violated them, then, great Jupiter, strike them as 
 I strike this swine, and strike with more severity as thy 
 power is greater." 
 
 Then he struck the skull of a pig with a stone. The 
 Albans by the mouths of their priests repeated the same 
 oath. When the agreement was made and confirmed by 
 these oaths, the three brothers on each side took arms. 
 
 The cheers of their fellow citizens stirred them ; burning 
 with courage they advanced between the two armies ; the 
 signal was given ; the six champions sprang forward, sword 
 in hand. Heedless of their .own danger, each thought only 
 of the future of his country, whose fate rested upon their 
 deeds. At the first clash of arms, a dreadful horror seized 
 the spectators. Soon, of the three Romans, two fell. The 
 Alban army uttered shouts of joy ; the Romans looked 
 with despair on the last of the Horatii, but he was un- 
 harmed, while the three Curiatii were all wounded. 
 
 He quickly determined his course ; he could not fight 
 them all at once, but, being unwounded, he was more than 
 a match for each one of them alone. So he pretended to 
 flee, while the Curiatii followed him and the Albans jeered. 
 
204 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 when what he expected happened, as his three foes were 
 all wounded. In following him they became separated, 
 when, suddenly, to the joy and astonishment of the Romans, 
 who had begun to think him a coward, he turned, and, 
 taking each of his enemies in turn, came off victor. 
 
 Great was the joy of the Romans to thus become rulers 
 over the mother city. They led the brave Horatius back 
 to town in triumph. But, alas ! this splendid victory was 
 soon to be stained by a terrible crime. 
 
 The sister of Horatius was betrothed to one of the 
 Cuiiatii. When she saw her brother coming back with 
 her lover's cloak upon his shoulders, she burst into tears 
 and cried aloud for her husband. Angered at seeing his 
 sister's tears insult his triumph and the joy of Rome, 
 Horatius drew his sword and killed the girl, exclaiming, 
 "Go with thy mad love, thou who forgettest thy brothers 
 and thy country. So perish every Roman woman who 
 shall dare to weep the death of an enemy ! " 
 
 The Romans were horrified at the dreadful deed, and 
 Horatius was condemned to death. He at once appealed 
 to the people ; then his father, an old man, came forward 
 and pleaded for his son's life, saying that he had already 
 lost all his children but this one; he called the attention 
 of the people to the brave deeds of the day, and begged 
 them to spare him his last child. 
 
 Moved by the father's tears, the people consented to 
 spare the life of Horatius, but obliged his father to pay 
 a fine for the freedom of his son. Then the aged man 
 placed across the street a beam, under which he made his 
 son to pass with veiled head, as a token of his penitence. 
 This beam was preserved for many, many years, and was 
 called the Sister's Beam. 
 
THE LAST OF THE KINGS SOS 
 
 XXXVIII. THE LAST OF THE KINGS. 
 
 THE last of the Roman kings was Tarquin the Proud. 
 He was a wicked and cruel tyrant, who, with his still 
 more wicked sons, oppressed and wronged the people 
 in many ways. There was a young man named Brutus 
 who was related to the king, and was very brave and 
 popular. The king was so jealous of him that the youth 
 became afraid for his life. Finally, in order to save him- 
 self from the king's jealousy, Brutus pretended to be fool- 
 ish, and went about as if he had lost his mind, thinking 
 that the king would certainly not be afraid or jealous of 
 an idiot. 
 
 In times of great peril, or when the Romans wished 
 to know something of great importance to the state, 
 they used to send to consult "oracles," as they were called. 
 These oracles were found in different parts of Italy and 
 Greece. The. priests or priestesses who presided over them 
 pretended to speak for the gods, and to answer the ques- 
 tions that were put to them about the future as truthfully 
 as if the gods had told them what to. say. . 
 
 There was a famous oracle at Delphi in Greece. It was 
 so famous that Tarquin had heard of it in Italy. For some 
 reason he wished to know which one of his sons should be 
 king after him ; so he sent them to Delphi to ask the 
 oracle. With them went Brutus, whom they supposed to be 
 foolish and harmless ; when they came to Delphi they asked 
 the priestess, ""Vyho of us shall succeed Tarquin as ruler 
 of Rome?" "He," said the oracle, "who first kisses his 
 mother." 
 
206 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 At once the two sons of the king made haste to start 
 upon the long journey home, each hoping to outstrip the 
 other and reach his mother first ; but Brutus, running 
 awkwardly along, pretending to stumble, fell upon his face 
 and kissed the ground, " For the earth," said he, " is the 
 mother of us all." Brutus, the supposed fool, was brighter 
 than the rest, and alone saw the hidden meaning of the 
 priestess's reply. 
 
 After many years of tyranny, the people of Rome be- 
 came greatly enraged against Tarquin and his family, 
 whose wicked oppression they felt they could endure no 
 longer. Brutus was especially bitter because — as the 
 result of one of the many wicked acts of Sextus, Tarquin's 
 son — Lucretia, the wife of his friend CoUatinus, had lost 
 her life. Over her dead body many of the noblest young 
 men of Rome, with Brutus as their leader, called their gods 
 to witness that they would no longer allow a king in Rome, 
 and that the family of Tarquin should not be permitted to 
 live within the state. The people, aroused, followed them 
 to arms, and King Tarquin and all his family were obliged 
 to flee for their lives. 
 
 Thus ended the long line of Roman kings. A new form 
 of government was agreed upon; instead of kings, who 
 might oppress the people as Tarquin had done, two consuls 
 were elected every year, so that no one could stay long 
 in office. Brutus now saw the prophecy of the oracle 
 fulfilled, for he was elected one of the first consuls. 
 
 But the Tarquins did not give up so easily as at first 
 appeared. They sent to the neighboring tribes that were 
 enemies of the Roman people and stirred them up to war. 
 Battle after battle followed with many tribes, and it was 
 years before the last of the Tarquins, the old king himself, 
 
THE LAST OF THE KINGS. 
 
 207 
 
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 S) 
 O 
 
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 21 
 
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308 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 was killed in battle and the fear of this dread family was 
 lemaved from Rome. Eyer-after-in Uieir-history tlienama 
 of king was hated by them. 
 
 XXXIX. HORATIUS AT THE BRIDQB. 
 
 Bt Thomas Babington Macaulay. 
 
 (1800-1859 ■) 
 
 Thomas Babington 
 Macaulay was an Eng- 
 lish writer of essays, histo- 
 ries, and poems, very much 
 admired in his day, and 
 still read^by many people 
 with gre^t pleasure. He 
 was a master of clear, vig- 
 orous English, using al-: 
 ways the right word in' 
 the right place. His liter-, 
 ary style is forceful and 
 brilliant,- and worthy of 
 careful study by his 
 readers. Macaulay 's prin- 
 cipal poems, of which the 
 following is one, were 
 called " Lays of Ancient 
 Kome," and told in poet 
 ical form some of the 
 famous stories about the 
 ancient Romans. Sextusy 
 that one of Tarquin's sons who had been the chief cause of the Romans'* 
 hatred, gathered a large army against Rome and marched with them to 
 the very banks of the Tiber opposite the city. There was but one 
 bridge over the river, and if this could be defended the city was safe ; 
 Lord Macaulay, in this poem, tells how it was defended by Iloratiiu 
 Codes and his two brave comraiiioiia 
 
 THOUAB BABTNOTON MAOAITLAT. 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 809 
 
 r ARS PORSENA of Clusium, 
 ■^^ By the Nine Gods he swore 
 That the great house of Tarquiu 
 
 Should suffer wrong no more. 
 By the Nine Gods he swore it, 
 
 And named a trysting day, 
 And bade his messengers ride forth. 
 East and west and south and north, 
 
 To summon his array. 
 
 East and west and south and north 
 
 The messengers ride fast, 
 And tower and town and cottage 
 
 Have heard the trumpet's blast. 
 Shame on the false Etruscan 
 
 Who lingers in his home 
 When Porsena of Clusium 
 
 Is on the march for Rome I 
 
 The horsemen and the footmen 
 
 Are pouring in amain, 
 From inany a stately market place, 
 
 From many a fruitful plain; 
 From many a lonely hamlet, 
 
 Which, hid by beach and pine. 
 Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest 
 
 Of purple Apennine. 
 
 The harvestB of Arretium, 
 
 This year, old men shall reap ; 
 This year, young boys in Umbro 
 
 Shall plunge the struggling sheep. 
 
I&IO STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And in the vats of Luna, 
 
 This year, the must shall foam 
 
 Round the white feet of the laughing girk 
 Whose sires have marched to Rome. 
 
 There be thirty chosen prophets, 
 
 The wisest of the land. 
 Who alway by Lars Porsena 
 
 Both morn and evening stand: 
 Evening and morn the Thirty 
 
 Have turned the verses o'er, 
 Traced from the right on linen white 
 
 By mighty seers of yore. 
 
 And with one voice the Thirty 
 Have their glad answer given : 
 
 "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; 
 Go forth, beloved of Heaven ; 
 
 Go, and return in glory- 
 To Clusium's royal dome ; 
 
 And hang round Nurscia's altars 
 The golden shields of Rome." 
 
 And now hath every city 
 
 Sent up her tale of men; 
 The foot are fourscore thousand. 
 
 The horse are thousands ten. 
 Before the gates of Sutrium 
 
 Is met the great array. 
 A proud man was Lars Porsena 
 
 Upon the trysting day. 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 211 
 
 For all the Etruscan armies 
 
 Were ranged beneath his eye, 
 And many a banished Roman, 
 
 And many a stout ally ; 
 And with a mighty following 
 
 To join the muster came 
 The Tusculan Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 
 But by the yellow Tiber 
 
 Was tumult and affright : 
 From all the spacious champaign 
 
 To Rome men took their flight. 
 A mile around the city, 
 
 The throng stopped up the ways ; 
 A fearful sight it was to see 
 
 Through two long nights and days. 
 
 Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 
 
 Could the wan burghers spy 
 The line of blazing villages 
 
 Red in the midnight sky. 
 The Fathers of the City, 
 
 They sat all night and day, 
 For every hour some horseman came 
 
 With tidings of dismay. 
 
 To eastward and to westward 
 
 Have spread the Tuscan bands; 
 Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecot, 
 
 In Crustumerium stands. 
 Verbenna down to Ostia 
 
 Hath wasted all the plain; 
 
SIS STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Astur hath stolmed Janiculum, 
 And the stout guards are slain. 
 
 I wis, in all the Senate, 
 
 There was no heart so bold. 
 But sore it ached, and fast it beat, 
 
 When that ill news was told. 
 Forthwith up rose the Consul, 
 
 Up rose the Fathers all ; 
 In haste they girded up their gowns, 
 
 And hied them to the walL 
 
 They held a council standing 
 
 Before the River Gate; 
 Short time was there, ye well may guess, 
 
 For musing or debate. 
 Out spoke the Consul roundly: 
 
 "The bridge must straight go down; 
 For, since Janiculum is lost. 
 
 Naught else can save the town." 
 
 Just then a scout came flying, 
 
 AU wild with haste and fear: 
 " To arms I to arms I Sir Consul ; 
 
 Lars Porsena is here." 
 On the low hiUs to westward 
 
 The Consul fixed his eye. 
 And saw the swarthy storm of dust 
 
 Rise fast along the sky. 
 And nearer, fast, and nearer 
 
 Doth the red whirlwind come ; 
 And louder still, and still more iuud, 
 From underneath that rolling cloud. 
 Is heard the trumpet's war note proud, 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 213 
 
 The trampling and the hum. 
 And plainly and more plainly 
 
 Now through the gloom appears, 
 Far to left and far to right, 
 In broken gleams of dark blue light, 
 The long array of helmets bright, 
 
 The long array of spears. 
 
 And plainly and more plainly. 
 
 Above the glimmering line. 
 Now might ye see the banners 
 
 Of twelve fair cities shine; 
 But the banner of proud Clusium 
 
 Was the highest of them all. 
 The terror of the Umbrian, 
 
 The terror of the Gaul. 
 
 Fast by the royal standard, 
 
 O'erlooking all the war, 
 Lars Porsena of Clusium 
 
 Sat in his ivory car. 
 By the right wheel rode Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 And by the left false Sestus, 
 
 That wrought the deed of shame. 
 
 But when the face of Sextus 
 
 Was seen among the foes, 
 A yell that rent the firmament 
 
 Prom all the town arose. 
 On the house tops was no woman 
 
 But spat towards him and hissed. 
 No child but screamed out curses, 
 
 And shook its little fist. 
 
214 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 But the Consul's brow was sad, 
 
 And the Consul's speech was low, 
 And darkly looked he at the wall. 
 
 And darkly at the foe. 
 " Their van will be upon us 
 
 Before the bridge goes down ; 
 And if they once may win the bridge, 
 
 What hope to save the town?" 
 
 Then out spake brave Horatius, 
 
 The Captain of the Gate: 
 " To every man upon this earth 
 
 Death cometh soon or late; 
 And how can man die better 
 
 Than facing fearful odds, 
 For the ashes of his fathers, 
 
 And the temples of his gods, 
 
 "And for the tender mother 
 
 Who dandled him to rest. 
 And for the wife who nurses 
 
 His baby at her breast, 
 And for the holy maidens 
 
 Who feed the eternal flame. 
 To save them from false Sextus 
 
 That wrought the deed of. shame? 
 
 "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 
 With all the speed ye may; 
 
 I, with two more to help me. 
 Will hold the foe in play. 
 
 In yon straight path a thousand 
 May well be stopped by three. 
 
HORATTTJS AT THE BRIDGE. 213 
 
 Now who will stand on either hand. 
 And keep the bridge with me ? " 
 
 Then out spake Spurius Lartins — 
 
 A Ramnian proud was he — 
 "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, 
 
 And keep the bridge with thee." 
 And out spake strong Herminius — 
 
 Of Titian blood was he — 
 "I will abide on thy left side, 
 
 And keep the bridge with thee." 
 
 "Horatius," quoth the Consul, 
 
 "As thou say'st, so let it be." 
 And straight against that great array 
 
 Forth went the dauntless Three. 
 For Romans in Rome's quarrel 
 
 Spared neither land nor gold, 
 Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
 Now while the Three were tightening 
 
 Their harness on their backs, 
 The Consul was the foremost man 
 
 To take in hand an ax ; 
 And Fathers mixed with Commons 
 
 Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. 
 And smote upon the planks above, 
 
 And loosed the props below. 
 Meanwhile the Tuscan army. 
 
 Right glorious to behold. 
 Came flashing back the noonday light. 
 Rank behind rank, like surges brigVit 
 
 Of a broad sea of gold. 
 
216 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Four hundred trumpets sounded 
 
 A peal of warlike glee, 
 As that great host, with measured tread, 
 And spears advanced, and ensigns spread. 
 Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, 
 
 Where stood the dauntless Three. 
 
 The Three stood calm and silent. 
 
 And looked upon the foes, 
 And a great shout of laughter 
 
 From all the vanguard rose : 
 And forth three chiefs came spurring 
 
 Before that deep array; 
 To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, 
 And lifted high their shields, and flew 
 
 To win the narrow way; 
 
 Annus from green Tifernum, 
 
 Lord of the Hill of Vines; 
 And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 
 
 Sicken in Ilva's mines ; 
 And Picus, long to Clusium 
 
 Vassal in peace and war. 
 Who led to fight his Umbrian powers 
 From that gray crag where, girt with towers, 
 The fortress of Nequinum lowers 
 
 O'er the pale waves of Nar. 
 
 Stout Lartius hurled down Annus 
 
 Into the stream beneath; 
 Herminius struck at Seius, 
 
 And clove him to the teeth; 
 At Picus brave Horatius 
 
 Darted one fiery thrust; 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGK 217 
 
 ' - 
 
 And the proud Umflbrian's gilded arms 
 Clashed in the bloody dust 
 
 Then Ocnus of Falerii 
 
 Rushed on the Roman Three , 
 And Lausulus of Urgo, 
 
 The rover of the sea; 
 And Aruns of Volsinium, 
 
 Who slew the great wild boar. 
 The great wild boar that had his den 
 Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, 
 And wasted fields and slaughtered men 
 
 Along Albinia's shore. 
 
 Herminius smote down Aruns; 
 
 Lartius laid Ocnus low; 
 Right to the heart of Lausulus 
 
 Horatius sent a blow. 
 *' Lie there," he cried, " fell pirate i 
 
 No more, aghast and pale. 
 From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 
 The track of thy destroying bark. 
 No more Campania's hinds shall fly 
 To woods and caverns when they spy 
 
 Thy thrice accursed sail." 
 
 But now no sound of laughter 
 
 Was heard amongst the foes. 
 A wild and wrathful clamor 
 
 From all the vanguard rose. 
 Six spears' length from the entrance 
 
 Halted that deep array. 
 And for a space no man came forth 
 
 To win the narrow way. 
 
S18 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 But bark! the crjr is Astur: 
 
 And lol the ranks divide; 
 And the great Lord of Luna 
 
 Comes with his stately stride. 
 Upon his ample shoulders 
 
 Clangs loud the fourfold shield, 
 And in his hand he shakes the brand 
 
 Which none but he can wield. 
 
 He smiled on those bold Romans, 
 
 A smile serene and high; 
 He eyed the flinching Tuscans, 
 
 And scorn was in his eye. 
 Quoth he: "The she-wolf's litter 
 
 Stand savagely at bay; 
 But will ye dare to follow. 
 
 If Astur clears the way?" 
 
 Then, whirling up his broadsword 
 
 With both hands to the height, 
 He rushed against Horatius, 
 
 And smote with all his might. 
 With shield and blade Horatius 
 
 Right deftly turned the blow. 
 The blow, though turned, came yet too nig» 
 It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: 
 The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 
 
 To see the red blood flow. 
 
 He reeled, and on Herminius 
 He leaned one breathing sj)ace; 
 
 Then, like a wild cat mad with wound&. 
 Sprang right at Astur's face. 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 219 
 
 Tliiough teeth, and skull, and helmet. 
 
 So fierce a thrust he sped, 
 The good sword stood a handbreadth out 
 
 Behind the Tuscan's head. 
 
 And the great Lord of Luna 
 
 Fell at the deadly stroke. 
 As falls on Mount Alvernus 
 
 A thunder-smitten oak. 
 Far o'er the crashing forest 
 
 The giant arms lie spread; 
 And the pale augurs, muttering low, 
 
 Gaze on the blasted head. 
 
 On Astur's throat Horatius 
 Right firmly pressed his heel. 
 
 And thrice and four times tugged amain 
 Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
 
 "And see," he cried, "the welcome. 
 Fair guests, that waits you here I 
 
 What noble Lucumo comes next 
 
 To taste oiu- Roman cheer?" 
 
 But at his haughty challenge 
 
 A sullen murmur ran. 
 Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread. 
 
 Along that glittering van. 
 There lacked not men of prowess. 
 
 Nor men of lordly race; 
 For all Etruria's noblest 
 
 Were round the fatal place. 
 
SSO STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 But all Etruria's noblest 
 
 Felt their hearts sink to see 
 On the earth the bloody corpses, 
 
 In the path the dauntless Three: 
 And, from the ghastly entrance 
 
 Where those bold Romans stood, 
 All shrank, like boys who unaware, 
 Ranging the woods to start a hare, 
 Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
 Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 
 
 Lies amidst bones and blood. 
 
 Was none who would be foremost 
 
 To lead such dire attack? 
 But those behind cried "Forward I" 
 
 And those before cried " Back ! " 
 And backward now and forward 
 
 Wavers the deep array; 
 And on the tossing sea of steel 
 To and fro the standards reelj 
 And the victorious trumpet peal 
 
 Dies fitfully away. 
 
 Yet one man for one moment 
 
 Strode out before the crowd; 
 Well known was he to all the Three, 
 
 And they gave him greeting loud • 
 "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! 
 
 Now welcome to thy home ! 
 Why dost thou stay, and turn away? 
 
 Here lies the road to Rome." 
 
 Thrice looked he at the city ; 
 Thrice looked he at the deadj 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 221 
 
 And thrice came on in fury. 
 
 And thrice turned back in dread: 
 
 And, white with fear and hatred, 
 Scowled at the narrow way 
 
 Where, wallowing in a pool of blood. 
 The bravest Tuscans lay. 
 
 But meanwhile ax and lever 
 
 Have manfully been plied. 
 And now the bridge hangs tottering 
 
 Above the boiling tide. 
 " Come back, come back, Horatius I ' 
 
 Loud cried the Fathers all. 
 " Back, Lartius 1 Back, Herminius ! 
 
 Back, ere the ruin fall I " 
 
 Back darted Spurius Lartius; 
 
 Herminius darted back: 
 And, as they passed, beneath their feet 
 
 They felt the timbers crack. 
 But when they turned their faces. 
 
 And on the farther shore 
 Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 
 
 They would have crossed once more. 
 
 But with a crash like thunder 
 
 Fell every loosened beam. 
 And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 
 
 Lay right athwart the stream ; 
 And a long shout of triumph 
 
 Rose from the walls of Rome, 
 As to the highest turret tops 
 
 Was splashed the yellow foam. 
 
SS2 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And, like a horse unbroken 
 
 When first he feels the rein, 
 The furious river struggled hard. 
 
 And tossed his tawny mane ; 
 And buret the curb, and bounded, 
 
 Rejoicing to be free. 
 And whirling down, in fierce career, 
 Battlement, and plank, and pier, 
 
 Rushed headlong to the sea. 
 
 Alone stood brave Horatius, 
 
 But constant still in mind; 
 Thrice thirty thousand foes before. 
 
 And the broad flood behind. 
 " Down with him I " cried false Sextus, 
 
 With a smile on his pale face. 
 "Now yield thee," cried Lars Pbisena, 
 
 "Now yield thee to our grace." 
 
 Round turned he, as not deigning 
 
 Those craven ranks to see ; 
 Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 
 
 To Sextus naught spake he; 
 But he saw on Palatinus 
 
 The white porch of his home; 
 And he spake to the noble river 
 
 That rolls by the towers of Rome; 
 
 "O Tiber! Father Tiber I 
 To whom the Romans pray, 
 
 A Roman's life, a Roman's arms. 
 Take thou in charge this day 1 " 
 
 So he spake, and speaking sheathed 
 The good sword by his side, 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. S23 
 
 And, with his harness on his back, 
 Plunged headlong in the tide. 
 
 No sound of joy or sorrow 
 
 Was heard from either bank } 
 But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 
 With parted lips and straining eyes, 
 
 Stood gazing where he sank; 
 And when above the surges 
 
 They saw his crest appear, 
 All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. 
 And even the ranks of Tuscany 
 
 Could scarce forbear to cheer. 
 
 And fiercely ran the current, 
 
 Swollen high b^ months of rain ; 
 And fast his blood was flowing, 
 
 And he was sore in pain. 
 And heavy with his armor. 
 
 And spent with changing blows: 
 And oft they thought him sinking, 
 
 But still again he rose. 
 
 Never, I ween, did swimmer, 
 
 In such an evil case. 
 Struggle through such a raging flood 
 
 Safe to the landing place ; 
 But his limbs were borne up bravely 
 
 By the brave heart within, 
 And our good Father Tiber 
 
 Bore bravely up his chin. 
 
 "Curse on himl" quoth false Sextus; 
 " Will not the villain drown ? 
 
B24 STEPPING STONES TO LITKRATUREL 
 
 But for this stay, ere close of day 
 We should have sacked the town I" 
 
 " Heaven help him I " quoth Lars Porsena, 
 " Aud bring him safe to shore ; 
 
 For such a gallant feat of arms 
 Was never seen before" 
 
 And now he ieels the bottom; 
 
 Now on dry earth he stands ; 
 Now round him throng the Fathers 
 
 To press his gory hands; 
 And now with shouts and clapping. 
 
 And noise of weeping loud, 
 He enters through the River Gate, 
 
 Borne by the joyous crowd. 
 
 They gave him of the corn land. 
 
 That was of public right, 
 As much as two strong oxen 
 
 Could plow from morn till night; 
 And they made a molten image. 
 
 And set it up on high, 
 And there it stands unto this .day 
 
 To witness if I lie. 
 
 It stands in the Comitium, 
 
 Plain for all folk to see, — 
 Horatius in his harness, 
 
 Halting upon one knee : 
 And underneath is written. 
 
 In letters all of gold. 
 How valiantly he kept the bridge 
 
 In the brave days of old 
 
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 225 
 
 And still his name sounds stirring 
 
 Unto the men of Rome, 
 As the trumpet blast that cries to them 
 
 To charge the Volscian home ; 
 And wives still pray to Juno 
 
 For boys with hearts as bold 
 As his who kept the bridge so well 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 And in the nights of winter, 
 
 When the cold north winds blow. 
 And the long howling of the wolves 
 
 Is heard amidst the snow ; 
 When round the lonely cottage 
 
 Roars loud the tempest's din, 
 And the good logs of Algidus 
 
 Roar louder yet within ; 
 When the oldest cask is opened. 
 
 And the largest lamp is lit ; . 
 When the chestnuts glow in the embers. 
 
 And the kid turns on the spit ; 
 When young and old in circle 
 
 Around the firebrands close ; 
 When the girls are weaving baskets. 
 
 And the lads are shaping bows; 
 When the goodman mends his armor, 
 
 And trims his helmet's plume ; 
 When the goodwife's shuttle merrily 
 
 Goes flashing through the loom, — 
 With weeping and with laughter 
 
 Still is the story told, 
 How well Horatius kept the bridge 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
336 STEPPING STONKS TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XL. THE ISLET.» 
 
 By Robert Louib Stevenson. 
 (1850-1894.) 
 ITH my stepping ashore I began the most unhappy 
 
 w 
 
 part of my adventures. It was half past twelve in 
 the morning, and though the wind was broken by the land, 
 it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought I 
 should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to 
 and fro upon the sand, barefoot and beating my breast, 
 with infinite weariness. There was no sound of man or 
 cattle ; not a cock crew, though it was about the hour of 
 their first waking ; only the surf broke outside in the dis- 
 tance, which put me in mind of my perils and those of my 
 friend. To walk by the sea at that hour of the morning, 
 and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with 
 a kind of fear. 
 
 As soon as the day began to break I put on my shoes 
 and climbed a hill, — the ruggedest scramble I ever under- 
 took, — falling, the whole way, between big blocks of 
 granite, or leaping from one to another. When I got to 
 
 * This story of "The Islet" is a chapter from Stevenson's novel 
 " Kidnapped," which is given here with the hope that it will induce 
 pupils to read the entire novel, which is most interesting and thrUl- 
 iug. Dubciis, who is telling the story about himself, was properly 
 heir to an estate which was held by a wicked uncle. The uncle, 
 anxious to get him out of the way, hired a brutal sailor to tidnap 
 him with the idea that he should be sold as a slave in the South Sea 
 Islands. He managed to make his escape in a way which you will 
 learn when you read the book, and was cast ashore upon a barren 
 island off the coast of Scotland. This chapter tells you how he 
 escaped from the island. 
 
THE ISLET. 
 
 227 
 
 the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the 
 brig, which must have lifted from the reef and sunk. The 
 boat, too, was nowhere to be seen. There was never a sail 
 upon the ocean ; and in what I could see of the land, was 
 neither house nor man. 
 
 I was afraid to think what had befallen my shipmates, and 
 afraid to look longer at so empty a scene. What with my 
 wet clothes and weariness, and my stomach that now began 
 
 THE ISLET. 
 
 to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble me without 
 that. So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping 
 to find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps 
 get news of those I had lost. And at the worst, I con- 
 sidered the sun would soon rise and dry my clothes. 
 
 After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of 
 the sea, which seemed to run pretty deep into the land; 
 and as I had no means to get across, I must needs change 
 my direction to go about the end of it. It was still the 
 
328 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 roughest kind of walking ; indeed the whole, not only of 
 Earraid, but of the neighboring part of Mull (which they 
 call the Ross), is nothing but a jumble of granite rocks with 
 heather in among. At first the creek kept narrowing, as I 
 had looked to see ; but presently, to my surprise, it began to 
 widen out again. At this I scratched my head, but had 
 still no notion of the truth ; until at last I came to a rising 
 ground, and it burst upon me all in a moment that I was 
 cast upon a little barren isle, and cut off on every side by 
 the salt seas. 
 
 Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to rain, 
 with a thick mist, so that my case was lamentable. 
 
 I stood in the rain and shivered, and wondered what to 
 do, till it occurred to me that perhaps the creek was ford- 
 able. Back I went to the narrowest point and waded in. 
 But not three yards from shore I plumped in head over 
 ears ; and if ever I was heard of more it was rather by 
 God's grace than my own prudence. I was no wetter (for 
 that could hardly be), but I was all the colder for this 
 mishap; and having lost another hope, was the more 
 unhappy. 
 
 And now, all at once, the yard came in my head. What 
 had carried me through the roost would surely serve me 
 to cross this little quiet creek in safety. With that I set 
 o£f undaunted, across the top of the isle, to fetch and carry 
 it back. It was a weary tramp m all ways, and if hope 
 had not buoyed me up, I must have cast myself down and 
 given up. Whether with the sea salt, or because I was 
 growing fevered, I was distressed with thirst, and had to 
 stop, as I went, and drink the peaty water out of the hags. 
 
 I came to the bay at last, more dead than alive ; and at 
 the first glance, 1 thought the yard was something farther 
 
THE ISLET. S89 
 
 out than when I left it. In I went, for the third time, into 
 the sea. The sand was smooth and firm, and shelved grad- 
 ually down, so that I could wade out tiU the water was 
 almost to my neck and the little waves splashed into my 
 face. But at that depth my feet began to leave me, and 
 I durst venture in no farther. As for the yard, I saw it 
 bobbing very quietly some twenty feet in front of me. 
 I had borne up well until this last disappointment; but 
 at that I came ashore, and flung myself down upon the 
 san ds and w ept. 
 
 The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible a 
 thought to me that I must pass it lightly over. . In all the 
 books I have read of people cast away, they had either their 
 pockets full of tools, or a chest of things would be thrown 
 upon the beach along with them, as if on purpose. My 
 case was very different. I had nothing in my pockets but 
 money and Alan's silver button ; and being inland bred, 
 I was as much short of knowledge as of means. 
 
 I knew indeed that shellfish werff counted good to eat; 
 and among the rocks of the isle I found a great plenty of 
 limpets, which at first I could scarcely strike from their 
 places, not knowing quickness to be needful. There were, 
 besides, some of the little shells that we call buckles ; I 
 think periwinkle is the English name. Of these two I 
 made my whole diet, devouring them cold and raw as 
 I found them; and so himgry was I that at first they 
 seemed to me delicious. 
 
 Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there was 
 something wrong in the sea about my island. But at least 
 I had no sooner eaten my first meal than I was seized with 
 giddiness and retching, and lay for a long time no better 
 than dead. A second trial of the same food (indeed I had 
 
230 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 no other) did better with me and revived my strength. 
 But as long as I was on the island I never knew what to 
 expect when I had eaten; sometimes aU was weU, and 
 sometimes I was thrown into a miserable sickness; nor 
 could I ever distinguish what particular fish it was that 
 hurt me. All day it streamed rain ; the island ran like a 
 sop; there was no dry spot to be found; and when I lay 
 down that night between two bowlders that made a kind of 
 roof, my feet were in a bog. 
 
 The second day I crossed the island to all sides. There 
 was no part of it better than another ; it was aU desolate 
 and rocky; nothing living on it but game birds which I 
 lacked the means to kill, and the gulls which haunted the 
 outlying rocks in a prodigious manner. But the creek, or 
 straits, that cut off the isle from the mainland of the Ross, 
 opened out on the north into a bay, and the bay again 
 opened into the sound of lona; and it was the neighbor- 
 hood of this place that I chose to be my home, though if 
 I had thought upon the very name of home in such a spot, 
 I must have burst out crying. 
 
 I had good reasons for my choice. There was in this 
 part of the isle a little hut of a house like a pig's hut, 
 where fishers used to sleep when they came there upon 
 their business ; but the turf roof of it had partly fallen in, 
 so that the hut was of little use to me, and gave me 
 less shelter than my rocks. "What was more important, 
 the shellfish on which I lived grew there in great plenty ; 
 when the tide was out I could gather a peck at a time, 
 and this was doubtless a convenience. But the other 
 reason went deeper. I had become in no way used to the 
 horrid solitude of the isle, but still looked round me on all 
 sides (like a man that is hunted), between fear and hope 
 
THE ISLET. 
 
 231 
 
 that I miglit see some human creature coming. Now, 
 from a little up the hillside over the bay I could catch 
 a sight of the great ancient church and the roofs of the 
 people's houses in lona. And on the other hand, over 
 the low country of the Ross, I saw smoke go up, morn- 
 ing and evening, as if from a homestead in a hollow of 
 the land. 
 
 I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold, 
 and had my head half turned with loneliness, and think of 
 
 THE HUT. 
 
 the fireside and the company till my heart burned. It 
 was the same with the roofs of lona. Altogether, this 
 sight I had of men's homes and comfortable lives, although 
 it put a point on my own sufferings yet it kept hope 
 alive, and helped me to eat my raw shellfish (which had 
 soon grown to be a disgust), and saved me from the sense 
 of horror I had whenever I was quite alone with dead 
 rocks, and fowls, and the rain, and the cold sea. 
 
23S STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 I say it kept hope alive; and indeed it seemed imp^ 
 sible that I should be left to die on the shores of my own 
 country, and within view of a church tower and the 
 smoke of men's houses. But the second day passed ; and 
 though as long as the light lasted I kept a bright lookout 
 for boats on the sound or men passing on the Ross, no 
 help came to me. It still rained; and I turned in to 
 sleep as wet as ever, and with a cruel sore throat, but a 
 little comforted, perhaps, by having said good night to my 
 next neighbors, the people of lona. 
 
 Charles the Second declared a man could stay outdooi'S 
 more days in the year in the climate of England than in 
 any other. This was very like a king with a palace at his 
 back and changes of dry clothes. But he must have had 
 better luck on his flight from Worcester than I had on that 
 miserable isle. It was the height of the summer; yet it 
 rained for more than twenty-four hours, and did not clear 
 until the afternoon of the third day. 
 
 This was the day of incidents. In the morning I saw 
 a red deel', a buck with a fine spread of antlers, standing 
 in the rain on the top of the island; but he had scarce 
 seen me rise from under my rock before he trotted off 
 upon the other side. I supposed he must have swum the 
 straits ; though what should bring any creature to Earraid, 
 was more than I could fancy. 
 
 A little after, as I was jumping about after my Kmpets, 
 I was startled by a guinea piece, which fell upon a rock 
 in front of me and glanced off into the sea. When the 
 sailors gave me my money again, they kept back not only 
 about a third of the whole sum, but my father's leather 
 purse ; so that from that day out I carried my gold loose 
 in a pocket with a button. I now saw there must be a 
 
THE ISLET. 88S 
 
 hole, and clapped my hand to the place in a great hurry. 
 But this was to lock the stable door after the steed was 
 stolen. I had left the shore at Queensferry with near on 
 fifty pounds ; now I found no more than two guinea pieces 
 and a silver shilling. 
 
 It is true I picked up a third guinea a little after, where 
 it lay shining on a piece of turf. That made a fortune of 
 three pounds and four shillings, English money, for a lad, 
 the rightful heir of an estate, and now starving on an isle 
 at the extreme end of the wild Highlands. 
 
 This state of my affairs dashed me still further; and 
 indeed my plight on that third morning was truly pitiful. 
 My clothes were beginning to rot ; my stockings in partic- 
 ular were quite worn through, so that my shanks went 
 naked j my hands had grown quite soft with the continual 
 soaking ; my throat was very sore ; my strength had much 
 abated; and my heart so turned against the horrid stuff 
 I was condemned to eat, that the very sight of it came 
 near to sicken me. 
 
 And the worst was yet to come. 
 
 There is a pretty high rock on the northwest of Earraid, 
 which (because it had a flat top and overlooked the sound) 
 I was much in the habit of frequenting ; not that ever I 
 stayed in one place, save when asleep, my misery giving me 
 no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down with continual and 
 aimless goings and comings in the rain. 
 
 "As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down on 
 the top of that rock to dry myself. The comfort of the 
 sunshine is a thing I cannot tell. It set me thinking hope- 
 fully of my deliverance, of which I had begun to despair ; 
 and I scanned the sea and the Ross with a fresh interest. 
 Oa the south of my rock, a part of the island jutted out 
 
S34 BTEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 and hid the open ocean, so that a boat could thus come 
 quite near me upon that side, and I be none the wiser. 
 
 ^Well, all of a sudden, a coble with a brown sail and a 
 pair of fishers aboard of it, came flying round that corner 
 of the isle, bound for lona. I shouted out, and then fell 
 on my knees on the rock, and reached up my hands and 
 prayed to them. They were near enough to hear, — I could 
 even see the color of their hair ; and there was no doubt 
 but they observed me, for they cried out in the Gaelic 
 tongue and laughed. But the boat never turned aside, and 
 flew on, right before my eyes, for lona. 
 
 I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along the 
 shore from rock to rock, crying on them piteously; even 
 after they were out of reach of my voice, I still cried and 
 waved to them ; and when they were quite gone, I thought 
 my heart would have burst. All the time of my troubles, 
 I wept only twice. Once, when I could not reach the oar ; 
 and now, the second time, when these fishers turned a deaf 
 ear to my cries. But this time I wept and roared like a 
 wicked child, tearing up the turf with my nails and grind- 
 ing my face in the earth. If a wish would kill men, those 
 two fishers would never have seen morning ; and I should 
 likely have died upon my island. 
 
 When I was a little ovef my anger, I must eat again, but 
 with such loathing of the mess as I could now scarcely 
 control. Sure enough, I should have done as well to .fast, 
 for my fishes poisoned me again. I had all my first pains ; 
 my throat was so sore I could scarce swallow ; I had a fit 
 of strong shuddering, which clucked my teeth together ; 
 and there came on me that dreadful sense of illness, which 
 we have no name for either in Scotch or English. 1 
 thought I should have died, and made my peace with God, 
 
THE ISLET. 235 
 
 forgiving all men, even my uncle and the fishers ; and as 
 soon as I had thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness 
 came upon me. I ohserved the night was falling dry ; my 
 clothes were dried a good deal. Truly, I was in a better 
 case than ever before since I had landed on the isle ; and so 
 I got to sleep at last, with a thought of gratitude. The 
 next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of 
 mine), I found my bodily strength run very low. But the 
 sun shone, the air was sweet, and what I managed to eat 
 of the shellfish agreed well with me and revived my 
 courage. 
 
 I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the 
 first thing after I had eaten) before I observed a boat com- 
 ing down the sound, and with her head, as I thought, in my 
 direction. I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; 
 for I thought those men might have thought better of their 
 cruelty and be coming back to my assistance. But another 
 disappointment, such as yesterday's, was more than I could 
 bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon the sea, and did 
 not look again till I had counted many hundreds. The boat 
 was still heading for the island. The next time I counted 
 the full thousand, as slowly as I could, my heart beating 
 so as to hurt me. And then it was out of all question. 
 She was coming straight to Earraid ! 
 
 I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the sea- 
 side and out, from one rock to another, as far as I could go. 
 It is a marvel I was not drowned ; for when I was brought 
 to a stand at last, my legs shook under me, and my mouth 
 was so dry, I must wet it with the sea water before I was 
 able to shout. All this time the boat was coming on ; and 
 now I was able to perceive it was the same boat and the 
 same two men as yesterday. This I knew by their hair, 
 
S36 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 which the one had of a bright yellow, and the other black. 
 But now there was a third man along with them, who 
 looked to be of a better class. 
 
 As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let 
 down their sail and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, 
 they drew no nearer in, and what frightened me most of 
 all, the new man tee-hee'd with laughter as he talked and 
 looked at me. Then he stood up in the boat and addressed 
 me a long while, speaking fast and with many wavings of 
 his hand. I told him I had no Gaelic ; and at this he 
 became very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he 
 was talking English. Listening Tery close, I caught the 
 word " whateffer," several times ; but all the rest was 
 Gaelic, and might have been Greek and Hebrew for me. 
 
 " Whatever," said I, to show him I had caught a word- 
 
 " Yes, yes-yes, yes," says he, and then he looked at the 
 other men, as much as to say, " I told you I spoke English," 
 and began again as hard as ever in the Gaelic. 
 
 This time I picked out another word, •'tide." Then I 
 bad a nash of hope. I remembered he was always waving 
 his hand toward the mainland of the Ross. 
 
 " Do you mean when the tide is out — ? " I cried, and 
 could not finish. 
 
 » Yes, yes," said he. « Tide." 
 
 At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser 
 had once more begun to tee-hee with laughter), leaped back 
 the way I had come from one stone to another, and set off 
 running across the isle as I had never run before. In about 
 half an hour I came out upon the shores of the creek ; and, 
 sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of water, 
 through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed 
 with a shout on the main island. 
 
ON THK DEATH OF A FAVORITE OAT. 237 
 
 A sea-bred boy could not have stayed a day on Earraid, 
 which is only what they call a tidal islet, and except in the 
 bottom of the neaps, can be entered and left twice in every 
 twenty-four hours, either dry-shod, or at the most by wading. 
 Even I, who had the tide going out and in before me in 
 the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get 
 my shellfish, — even I (I say), if I had sat down to think, 
 instead of raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the 
 secret and got free. It was no wonder the fishers had not 
 understood me. The wonder was rather that they had ever 
 guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to come 
 back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island 
 for close upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I 
 might have left my bones there, in pure folly. And even 
 as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only in past 
 sufferings, but in my present case ; being clothed like a 
 beggar-man, scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my 
 sore throat. I have seen wicked men and fools, a great 
 many of both 5 and I believe they both get paid in the end : 
 but the fools first. 
 
 XLI. ON THE DEATH OP A FAVORITE CAT, 
 DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES, 
 
 By Thomas Gray. 
 (1716-1771.) 
 ' 'T^ WAS on a lofty vase's side, 
 
 -L Where China's gayest art had dyed 
 The azure flowers that blow, 
 Demurest of the tabby kind, 
 The pensive Selima, reclined, 
 Gazed on the lake below. 
 
838 STEPPING STONES TO L.ITERATURK 
 
 Her conscious tail her joy declared; 
 The fair round face, the snowy beard, 
 
 The velvet of her paws. 
 Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 
 Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes. 
 
 She saw; and purred applause. 
 
 Still had she gazed ; but 'midst the tide 
 Two angel forms were seen to glide. 
 
 The Genii of the stream: 
 Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue, 
 Though richest purple to the view, 
 
 Betrayed a golden gleam. 
 
 The hapless nymph with wonder saw 
 A whisker first and then a claw; 
 
 With many an ardent wish, 
 She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize, 
 What female heart can gold despise? 
 
 What cat's averse to fish? 
 
 Presumptuous maid I with looks intent 
 Again she stretched, again she bent. 
 
 Nor knew the gulf between. 
 (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled) 
 The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled. 
 
 She tumbled headlong in. 
 
 Eight times emerging from the flood 
 She mewed to ev'ry wat'ry God, 
 
 Some speedy aid to send. 
 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred, 
 Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. 
 
 A fav'rite has no {riendl 
 
OBJECT LESSONS. S39 
 
 From hence, ye beauties, undeceived, 
 Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved, 
 
 And be with caution bold. 
 Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes 
 And heedless hearts is lawful prize. 
 
 Not all that glisters, gold. 
 
 O 
 
 XLII. OBJECT LESSONS. 
 
 By Henry Ward Beeches. 
 
 (1813-1887.) 
 
 NE would almost think that eyes were an arrange" 
 ment to prevent people from seeing. The same 
 thought passed in the mind of the old prophet thousands of 
 years ago : Eyes have they, but they see not. It is aston- 
 ishing to observe both what people do see and what they 
 do not. One pair of eyes, for instance, will return from a 
 crowded church, and will have seen (by an almost super- 
 natural faculty, as it seems to us) every bonnet, every 
 ribbon, every dress, every significant look, every posture 
 or action, of a thousand people. Our own eyes, looking 
 upon the same scene, would have seen not one of all these 
 things I 
 
 One pair of eyes will go through the length of Broadway, 
 and see only those who seem to look upon the owner of 
 said eyes. Another pair will not have seen one person in 
 that long walk, nor have missed one horse that walked, 
 trotted, capered, or steadily pulled. 
 
 One man will see all the children, — the sweet, rosy- 
 faced, clean ones, gladly : the ragged and keen-faced ones. 
 
840 BTEPPTNG STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 sadly. One man will Bee all that art can exhibit, and 
 another nothing of it all. One man sees machines and all 
 mechanical contrivances; another sees only dresses and 
 showy things. Now and then there is a rare head whose 
 eyes seem to take in everything, — from a mouse that scuds 
 into a hole, up through all varieties of still or active life 
 to the very top. And some there be who seem to see 
 nothing. For all the effect produced upon them, Broad- 
 way is as empty as a street in Tadmor. Their eyes seem 
 to have been made up with unprepared nerve; so that, 
 like a daguerrean plate without chemical coating, nothing 
 acts upon it, and no picture is burnt in. 
 
 It is a great pity that we are not taught, in our early 
 days, how to see. It is more important than reading and 
 writing, than arithmetic or geography. In a world of 
 boundless treasures, above, beneath, on every side, we 
 walk as if there were but few things worth seeing. And 
 even these, when we have looked upon them once or 
 twice, we exhaust, and suppose that we have reaUy seen 
 them I 
 
 A man shall pass and repass a burdock growing near the 
 path which he daily treads going to and returning from 
 his work. He would laugh if he were told that he did not 
 know that familiar plant. And yet, in making it, God put 
 upon it and within it a hundred things which are worth 
 observation, but which this man never sees or suspects. 
 The least things that come from God's hands are so full, 
 90 compact of qualities, that they will bear close scrutiny 
 and long study. And we think that the chief advantage 
 to be derived from teaching children to draw is not to be 
 found in the pictures made, but in the new eyesight gained. 
 This, however, implies that they are taught to draw directly 
 
OBJECT LESSONa S41 
 
 from natm-e, and not from copy books. Let a child study 
 a plant, in order to draw it, and he will find out more about 
 it in one day than otherwise he would in a lifetime. We 
 only glance at things. 
 
 We overlook more than we see in the things which we 
 see most thoroughly. It would be a good exercise for 
 winter evenings for children to have placed before them 
 a rosebush in a flowerpot, and then let each tell what he 
 sees, and keep the list; and then let older eyes do the 
 same ; and then, from all together, make out a more com- 
 plete one ; and laying it aside, every day when things 
 occur afterwards, let them be put down. 
 
 The eye is susceptible of more training than perhaps 
 any other of the senses. Fineness of sight, length of 
 vision, comprehensiveness, or the number of things taken 
 in at once, and rapidly, — these may be so far developed 
 that the educated eye is as far above the uneducated 
 as a refined and cultivated mind is beyond a savage one. 
 Houdin, the great French necromancer, relates the prac- 
 tice of himself and son in preparing for one part of their 
 jugglery. They trained their eyes to take in at a glance, 
 from a shop window, from a store full of varieties, from 
 the face of books in a library, the greatest number of 
 things. They came to such perfection that in simply 
 walking past a library case they could afterward tell you 
 nearly every book on its shelves,. and its relative position. 
 Their eyes seemed to be acted upon in a manner not un- 
 like the photographic process. A picture was instantly 
 formed. And, afterward it rose up before their memories 
 as if the original thing stood before them. Such incidents 
 show how little use is yet made of eyes, and how little we 
 suspect their capabilities of education. 
 
842 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XLHL THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 
 
 A T the end of the Trojan War, 
 
 about which you have read, the 
 Greeks, having conquered the city 
 and taken all its treasures for them- 
 selves, started on their homeward 
 journey. Ulysses,* who was known 
 as the wisest of the Greeks, set sail 
 with his army for his home on the 
 island of Ithaca, hoping soon to see 
 his beloved wife and son ; but he was 
 not destined to see them for a long 
 time. For ten years he wandered 
 about from land to land, meeting 
 many strange adventures, losing his 
 companions, often being lost himself, 
 before he reached his beloved Greece. 
 But at length he escaped from all his 
 perils and arrived at home. 
 
 He was now an old man, but still 
 as strong as when he set out for Troy. 
 His father was Laertes,^ his wife Penelope,' and his son 
 Telemachus.* The goddess Athene took Ulysses under her 
 care, and led him to his home. He was filled with joy and 
 eager expectation at the thought that he should once more 
 see his loved ones. 
 
 All this, and much more, is told in the second great poem 
 of the old blind poet Homer. This poem is called " The 
 
 ^ 
 
 Odyssey," 8 from Odysseus,^ one of the names of Ulysses. 
 
 * Od'ya-sey. 
 
 * O-dys'seus. 
 
 1 TT-lys'ses. 
 < La-er'tes. 
 
 * Pe-nel'o-pe. 
 
 * Te-lem'a-chus. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 243 
 
 What follows here is taken from Homer's poem and re-told 
 by the great English writer, Charles Lamb (1775-1834). 
 
 L THE CHANGE FROM A KING TO A BEGGAR. 
 
 NOT long did Athene suffer Ulysses to indulge vain 
 transports ; but, chiefly recounting to him the events 
 which had taken place in Ithaca during his absence, showed 
 him that his way to his wife and throne did not lie so open, 
 but that before he were reinstated in the secure possession 
 of them he must encounter many difficulties. His palace, 
 wanting its king, was become the resort of insolent and 
 imperious men, the chief nobility of Ithaca and of the 
 neighboring isles, who, in the confidence of Ulysses being 
 dead, came as suitors to Penelope. The queen (it was true) 
 continued single, but was little better than a state prisoner 
 in the power of these men, who, under a pretense of waiting 
 her decision, occupied the king's house rather as owners 
 than guests, lording and domineering at their pleasure, pro- 
 faning the palace and wasting the royal substance with 
 their feasts and mad riots. 
 
 Moreover, the goddess told him how, fearing the attempts 
 of these lawless men upon the person of his young son 
 Telemachus, she herself had put it into the heart of the 
 prince to go and seek his father in far countries ; how 
 in the shape of Mentor she had borne him company 
 in his long search, which, though failing, as she meant 
 it should fail, in its first object, had yet had this 
 effect, that through hardships he had learned endurance, 
 through experience he had gathered wisdom, and wherever 
 his footsteps had been he had left such memorials of his 
 worth that the name of Ulysses's son was already blown 
 
244 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 throughout the world; that it was now not many days 
 since Telemachus had arrived in the island, to the great joy 
 of the queen, his mother, who had thought him dead by 
 reason of his long absence, and had begun to mourn for him 
 with a grief equal to that which she endured for Ulysses, — 
 the goddess herself having so ordered the course of his 
 adventures that the time of his return should coirespond 
 with the return of Ulysses, that they might together con- 
 cert measures how to repress the power and insolence of 
 those wicked suitors. 
 
 This the .goddess told him ; but of the particulars of 
 his son's adventures, of his having been detained in the 
 Delightful Island, which his father had so lately left, of 
 Calypso^ and her nymphs, and the many strange occur- 
 rences which may be read with profit and delight in the 
 history of the prince's adventures, she forbore to teU him as 
 yet, judging that he would hear them with greater pleasure 
 from the lips of his son Telemachus, when he should have 
 him in an hour of stillness and safety, when their work 
 should be done, and none of their enemies left to trouble 
 them. 
 
 Then they sat down, the goddess and Ulysses, at the foot 
 of a wEd olive tree, consulting how they might with safety 
 bring about his restoration. And when Ulysses revolved in 
 his mind how that his enemies were a multitude, and he 
 single, he began to despond, and he said, I shall die an ill 
 death like Agamemnon ; * in the threshola of my own house 
 I shall perish, like that unfortunate monarch, slain by some 
 one of my wife's suitors." But then again calling to mind 
 his ancient courage, he secretly wished that Athene would 
 but breathe such a spirit into his bosom as she had inflamed 
 * Cr-17P'sO' ' Ag-a-mem non. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES 845 
 
 him with in the hour of Troy'a destruction, that he might 
 encounter with three hundred of those impudent suitors at 
 once, and strew the pavements of his beautiful palace with 
 their bodies. 
 
 And Athene knew liis thoughts, and she said, " I will be 
 strongly with thee if thou fail not to do thy part. And for 
 a sign between us that I will perform my promise, and for 
 a token on thy part of obedience, I must change thee, that 
 thy person may not be known to men." 
 
 Then Ulysses bowed his head to receive the divine im- 
 pression, and Athene by her great power changed his person 
 so that it might not be known. She changed him in appear, 
 ance into a very old man, yet such a one as by his limbs and 
 gait seemed to have been some considerable person in his 
 time, and to retain yet some remains of his once prodigious 
 strength. Also, instead of those rich robes in which king 
 Alcinous * had clothed him, she threw over his limbs such 
 old and tattered rags as wandering beggars usually wear. A 
 staff supported his steps, and a scrip hung to his back, such 
 as traveling mendicants use to hold the scraps which are 
 given to them at rich men's doors. So from a king he 
 became a beggar, as wise Tiresias '^ had predicted to him in 
 the shades. 
 
 To complete his humiliation, and to prove his obedience 
 by suffering, she next directed him in this beggarly attire 
 to go and present himself to his old herdsman Eumeeus,^ 
 who had the care of his swine and his cattle, and had been a 
 faithful steward to him aU the time of his absence. Then, 
 strictly charging Ulysses that he should reveal himself to 
 no man but to his own son, whom she would send to him 
 when she saw occasion, the goddess went her way. 
 
 * Al-cin'o-ua. .' Ti-re'si-aa. • Eu-mae'us. 
 
243 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 n. EUM^US AND THK HERDSMEN. 
 
 THE transformed Ulysses bent his course to the cottage 
 of the herdsman, and, entering in at the front court, 
 the dogs, of which Eumseus kept many fierce ones for the 
 protection of the cattle, flew with open mouths upon him, 
 as those ignoble animals have, oftentimes, an antipathy to 
 the sight of anything like a beggar, and would have rent 
 him in pieces with their teeth if Ulysses had not had the 
 prudence to let fall his staff, which had chiefly provoked 
 their fury, and sat himself down in a careless fashion upon 
 the ground ; but for all that some serious hurt had certainly 
 been done to him, so raging the dogs were, had not the 
 herdsman, whom the barking of the dogs had fetched out 
 of the house, with shouting and with throwing of stones 
 repressed them. 
 
 He said, when he saw Ulysses, " Old father, how near 
 you were to being torn in pieces by these rude dogs ! I 
 should never have forgiven myself if through neglect of 
 mine any hurt had happened to you. But Heaven has 
 given me so many cares to my portion that I might well be 
 excused for not attending to everything, while here I lie 
 grieving and mourning for the absence of that majesty 
 which once ruled here, and am forced to fatten his swine 
 and his cattle for food to evil men, who hate him and who 
 wish his death ; when he, perhaps, strays up and down the 
 world, and has not wherewith to appease hunger, if indeed 
 he yet lives (which is a question) and enjoys the cheerful 
 light of the sun." This he said, little thinking that he of 
 whom he spoke now stood before him, and that in that 
 uncouth disguise and beggarly obscurity was present the 
 hidden maiesty of Ulysses. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 247 
 
 Then he had his guest into the house, and set meat and 
 drink before him; and Ulysses said, " May Jove and all the 
 oth^r gods requite you for the kind speeches and hospitable 
 usage which you have shown me." 
 
 Eumseus made answer : " My poor guest, if one in much 
 worse plight than yourself had arrived here, it were a shame 
 to such scanty means as I have if I had let him depart 
 without entertaining him to the best of my ability. Poor 
 men, and such as have no houses of their own, are by Jove 
 himself recommended to our care. But the cheer which we 
 that are servants to other men have to bestow is but sorry 
 at most, yet freely and lovingly I give it you. Indeed, 
 there once ruled here a man, whose return the gods have 
 set their faces against, who, if he had been suffered to reign 
 in peace and grow old among us, would have been kind to 
 me and mine. But he is gone ; and for his sake would to 
 God that the whole posterity of Helen might perish with 
 her, since in her quarrel so many worthies have perished I 
 But such as your fare is, eat it and be welcome, — such 
 lean beasts as are food for poor herdsmen. The fattest go 
 to feed the voracious stomachs of the queen's suitors. 
 Shame on their un worthiness ! There is no day in which 
 two or three of the noblest of the herd are not slain to 
 s upport their feasts and their surfeits." 
 
 Ulysses gave good ear to his words ; and as he ate his 
 meat he even tore it and rent it with his teeth, for mere 
 vexation that his fat cattle should be slain to glut the appe- 
 tites of those godless suitors. And he said, " What chief 
 or what ruler is this that thou commendest so highly, and 
 sayest that he perished at Troy? I am but a stranger in 
 these parts. It may be I have heard of some such in my 
 long travels." 
 
348 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Eumseus answered, " Old father, never any one of all 
 the strangers that have come to our coast with news of 
 Ulysses heing alive could gain credit with the queen or her 
 son yet. These travelers, to get raiment or a meal, will 
 not stick to invent any lie. Truth is not' the commodity 
 'they deal in. Never did the queen get anything of them 
 but lies. She receives all that come graciously, hears their 
 stories, inquires all she can, but all ends in tears and dis- 
 satisfaction. But in God's name, old father, if you have 
 got a tale, make the most of 't; 'may it gain you a cloak or 
 a coat from somebody to keep you warm 1 but for him who 
 is the subject of it, dogs and vultures long since have torn 
 him limb from limb, or some great fish at sea has devoured 
 him, or he lieth with no better monument upon his bones 
 than the sea sand. But for me past all the race of men 
 were tears created, for I never shall find so kind a royal 
 master more ; not if my father or my mother could come 
 again and visit me from the tomb, would my eyes be so 
 blessed as they should be with the sight of him again, com- 
 ing as from the dead. In his last rest my soul shall love 
 him. He is not here, nor do I name him as a flatterer, but 
 because I am thankful for his love and care which he had 
 to me a poor man ; and if I knew surely that he were past 
 all shores that the sun shines upon, I would invoke him as 
 a deified being." 
 
 For this saying of Eumseus the waters stood in Ulysses's 
 eyes, and he said, "My friend, to say and to affirm posi- 
 tively that he cannot be alive is to give too much license 
 to incre^lity. For, not to speak at random, but with as 
 much solemnity as an oath comes to, I say to you that 
 Ulysses shall return, and whenever that day shall be, then 
 ihall you give to me a cloak and a coat ; but till then I will 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 849 
 
 not receive so much as a thread of a garment, but rather go 
 naked ; for no less than the gates of hell do I hate that man 
 whom poverty can force to tell an untruth. Be Jove, then, 
 witness to my words, that this very year, nay, ere this 
 month be fuUy ended, your eyes shall behold Ulysses deal- 
 ing vengeance in his own palace upon the wrongers of his 
 wife and his son ! " 
 
 To give the better credence to his words, he amused 
 
 Eumseus with a forged story of his life, feigning of himself 
 
 that he was a Cretan born, and one that went with Idome- 
 
 neus* to the wars of Troy. Also he said that he knew 
 
 Ulysses, and related various passages which he alleged to 
 
 have happened betwixt Ulysses and himself, which were 
 
 either true in the maig, as having really happened between 
 
 Ulysses and some other person, or were so like to truth, as 
 
 corresponding with the known character and actions of 
 
 Ulysses, that Eumseus's incredulity was not a little shaken. 
 
 Among other things he asserted that he had lately been 
 
 entertained in the court of Thesprotia, where the king's 
 
 son of the country had told him that Ulysses had been 
 
 there but just before him, and was gone upon a voyage to 
 
 the oracle of Jove in Dodona,^ whence he should shortly 
 
 return, and a ship would be ready by the bounty of the 
 
 Thesprotians to convoy him straight to Ithaca. " And in 
 
 tokpn that what I tell you is true," said Ulysses, " if your 
 
 king come not within the period which I have named, you 
 
 shall have leave to give your servants commandment to 
 
 take my old carcass and throw it headlong from some steep 
 
 rock into the sea, that poor men, taking example by me, 
 
 may fear to lie." But Eumseus made answer that that 
 
 should be small satisfaction or pleasure to him. 
 
 » I-dom e-neus. '■' Do-do'na. 
 
S50 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 So while they sat discoursing in this manner, supper was " 
 served in, and the servants of the herdsman, who had been 
 out all day in the fields, came in to supper and took their 
 seats at the fire, for the night was bitter and frosty. After 
 supper, Ulysses, who had well eaten and drunken, and was 
 refreshed with the herdsman's good cheer, was resolved to 
 try whether his host's hospitality would extend to the lend- 
 ing him a good warm mantle or rug to cover him in the 
 night season ; and framing an artful tale for the purpose, in 
 a merry mood, fiUing a cup of Greek wine, he thus began : — 
 " I will tell you a story of your king Ulysses and myself. 
 We led our powers to ambush once under the walls of 
 Troy." 
 
 The herdsmen crowded about him eager to hear anything 
 which related to their king Ulysses and the wars of Troy, 
 and thus he went on: — 
 
 "I remember, Ulysses and Menelaus' had the direction of 
 that enterprise, and they were pleased to join me with them 
 in the command. I was at that time in some repute among 
 men, though fortune has played me a trick since, as you 
 may perceive. But I was somebody in those times, and 
 could do something. Be that as it may, a bitter freezing 
 night it was, such a night as this ; the air cut like steel, and 
 the sleet gathered on our shields like crystal. There were 
 some twenty of us that lay close crouched down among the 
 reeds and bulrushes that grew in the moat that goes round 
 the city. The rest of us made tolerable shift, for every 
 man had been careful to bring with him a good cloak or 
 mantle to wrap over his armor and keep himself warm ; but 
 I, as it chanced, had left my cloak behind me, as not ex- 
 pecting that the night would prove so cold, or rather, I 
 > Men-e-Ia'ua. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 251 
 
 believe, because I had at that time a brave suit of new 
 armor on, which, being a soldier, and having some of the 
 soldier's vice about me, — vanity, — I was not willing should 
 be hidden under a cloak ; but I paid for my indiscietion 
 with my sufferings, for with the inclement night, and the 
 wet of the ditch in which we lay, I was well-nigh frozen to 
 death. 
 
 "And when I could endure no longer, I jogged Ulysses 
 who was next to me, and had a nimMe ear, and made 
 known my case to him, assuring him that I must inev- 
 itably perish. He answered in a low whisper, ' Hush, lest 
 any Greek should hear you, and take notice of your soft- 
 ness.' Not a word more he said, but showed as if he had 
 no pity for the plight I was in. But he was as considerate 
 as he was brave ; and even then, as he lay with his head 
 reposing upon his hand, he was meditating how to relieve 
 me without exposing my weakness to the soldiers. At last, 
 raising up his head, he made as if he had been asleep, and 
 said, ' Friends, I have been warned in a dream to send to 
 the fleet to King Agamemnon for a supply to recruit our 
 numbers, for we are not sufficient for this enterprise ; ' and 
 they, believing him, one Thoas was dispatched on that 
 errand, who, departing, for more speed, as Ulysses had fore- 
 seen, left his upper garment behind him, a good warm man- 
 tle, to which I succeeded, and by the help of it got through 
 the night with credit. This shift Ulysses made for one in 
 need, and would to heaven that I had now that strength in 
 my limbs which made me in those days to be accounted fit 
 to be a leader under Ulysses ! I should not then want the 
 loan of a cloak or a mantle to wrap about me and shield my 
 old limbs from the night air." 
 
 The tale pleased the herdsmen ; and Eumseus, who, more 
 
S53 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 than all the rest, was gratified to hear tales of Ulysses, true 
 or false, said that for his story he deserved a mantle and a 
 night's lodging, which he should have. And he spread 
 for him a bed of goat and sheep skins by the fire; and 
 the seeming beggar, who was indeed the true Ulysses, lay 
 down and slept tinder that poor roof, in that abject disguise 
 to which the will of Athene had subjected him. 
 
 When the morning was come, Ulysses made offer to 
 depart, as if he were not willing to burden his host's hos- 
 pitality any longer, but said that he would go and try the 
 humanity of the townsfolk, if any there would bestow upon 
 him a bit of bread or a cup of drink. Perhaps the queen's 
 suitors, he said, out of their full feasts, would bestow a 
 scrap on him; for he could wait at table, if need were, 
 and play the nimble serving-man ; he could fetch wood, 
 he said, or build a fire, prepare roast meat or boiled, mix 
 the wine with water, or dp any of those offices which 
 recommended poor men like him to services in great men's 
 houses. 
 
 " Alas I poor guest," said Eumseus, *' you know not what 
 you speak. What should so poor and old a man as you do 
 at the suitors' tables ? Their light minds are not given to 
 such grave servitors. They must have youths, richly tricked 
 out in flowing vests, with curled hair, like so many of 
 Jove's cup-bearers, to fill out the wine to them as they sit 
 at table, and to shift their trenchers. Their gorged in- 
 solence would but despise and make a mock at thy age. 
 Stay here. Perhaps the queen, or Telemachus, hearing of 
 thy arrival, may send to thee of their bounty." 
 
 As he spake these words, the steps of one crossing the 
 front court were heard, and a noise of the dogs fawning and 
 leaping about as for joy ; by which token Eumseus guessed 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. S53 
 
 that it was the prince, who, hearing of a traveler being 
 arrived at Eumseus's cottage that brought tidings of his 
 father, was come to search the truth ; and Eumseus said, 
 " It is the tread of Telemachus, the son of King Ulysses." 
 Before he could well speak the words, the prince was at the 
 door, whom Ulysses rising to receive, Telemachus would 
 not suffer that so aged a man, as he appeared, should rise to 
 do respect to him, but he courteously and reverently took 
 him by the hand, and inclined his head to him, as if he had 
 surely known that it was his father indeed ; but Ulysses 
 covered his eyes with his hands, that he might not show 
 the waters which stood in them. 
 
 ni. ULYSSES AND TELEMACHUS. 
 
 AND Telemachus said, " Is this the man who can tell us 
 tidings of the king my father?" 
 
 " He brags himself to be a Cretan born," said Eumseus, 
 " and that he has been a soldier and a traveler, but whether 
 he speak the truth or not he altjne can tell. But whatso- 
 ever he has been, what he is now is apparent. Such as he 
 appears, I give him to you ; do what you will with him. His 
 boast at present is that he is at the very best a supplicant." 
 
 " Be he what he may," said Telemachus, " I accept him 
 at your hands. But where I should bestow him I know 
 not, seeing that.in the palace his age would not exempt him 
 from the scorn and contempt which my mother's suitors in 
 their light minds would be sure to fling upon him ; a mercy 
 if he escaped without blows, for they are a company of evil 
 men, whose profession is wrongs and violence." 
 
 Ulysses answered: "Since it is free for any man to 
 speak in presence of your greatness, I must say that my 
 
254 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 heart puts on a wolfish inclination to tear and to devour, 
 hearing your speech, that these suitors should with such 
 injustice rage where you should have the rule solely. 
 What should the cause be ? Do you willfully give way to 
 their ill manners, or has your government been such as 
 has procured ill-will towards you from your people, or do 
 you mistrust your kinsfolk and friends in such sort as with- 
 out trial to decline their aid ? A man's kindred are they 
 that he might trust to when extremities run high." 
 
 Telemachus replied : " The kindred of Ulysses are few. 
 I have no brothers to assist me in the strife. But the 
 suitors are powerful in kindred and friends. The house of 
 old Arcesius' has had this fate from the heavens, that 
 from old it has still been supplied with single heirs. To 
 Arcesius, Laertes only was born, from Laertes descended 
 only Ulysses, from Ulysses I alone have sprung, whom he 
 left so young that from me comfort never arose to him. 
 But the end of all rests in the hands of the gods." 
 
 Then Eumseus departing to see to some necessary busi- 
 ness of his herds, Athene took a woman's shape, and stood 
 in the entry of the door, and was seen by Ulysses, but by 
 his son she was not seen, for the presences of the gods are 
 invisible save to those to whom they wiU to reveal themselves. 
 Nevertheless, the dogs which were about the door saw the 
 goddess, and durst not bark, but went crouching and lick- 
 ing of the dust for fear. And giving signs to Ulysses that 
 the time was now come in which he should make himself 
 known to his son, by her great power she changed back his 
 shape into the same which it was before she transformed 
 him ; and Telemachus, who saw the change, but nothing of 
 the manner by wliich it was effected, only Tie saw the ap- 
 ' Ar-ce si-US. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 263 
 
 pearance of a king in the vigor of his age where but just 
 now he had seen a worn and decrepit beggar, was struck 
 with fear, and said, "Some god has done this house this 
 honor," and he turned away his eyes, and would have 
 worshiped. 
 
 But his father permitted not, but said, "Look better 
 at me. I am no deity ; why put you upon me the reputa- 
 tion of godhead? I am no more but thy father: I am 
 even he. I am that Ulysses by reason of whose absence 
 thy youth has been exposed to such wrongs from injurious 
 men." Then kissed he his son, nor could any longer refrain 
 those tears which he had held under such mighty restraint 
 before, though they would ever be forcing themselves out 
 in spite of him ; but now as if their sluices had burst, they 
 came out like rivers, pouring upon the warm cheeks of his 
 son. Nor yet by all these violent arguments could Telema- 
 chus be persuaded to believe that it was his father, but he 
 said some deity had taken that shape to mock him ; for he 
 affirmed that it was not in the power of any man, who is 
 • sustained by mortal food, to change his shape so in a mo- 
 ment from age to youth; for, "But now," said he, "you 
 were all wrinkles, and were old, and now you look as the 
 gods are pictured." 
 
 His father replied : " Admire, but fear not, and know 
 me to be at all parts substantially thy father, who in the 
 inner powers of his mind, and the unseen workings of a 
 father's love to thee, answers to his outward shape and pre- 
 tense. There shall no more Ulysseses come here. .1 am he 
 that, after twenty years' absence, and suffering a world of 
 ill, have recovered at last the sight of my country earth. 
 It was the will of Athene that I should be changed as you 
 saw me. She put me thus together ; she puts together or 
 
256 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK 
 
 takes to pieces whom she pleases. It is in the law of her 
 free power to do it; sometimes to show her favorites under 
 a cloud and poor, and again to restore to them their orna- 
 ments. The gods raise and throw down men with ease." 
 
 Then Telemachus could hold out no longter, but he gave 
 way now to a full belief and persuasion, of that which foi 
 joy at first he could not credit, that it was indeed his true 
 and very father that stood before him ; and they embraced, 
 and mingled their tears. 
 
 Then said Ulysses, " TeU me who these suitors are, what 
 are their numbers, and how stands the queen, thy mother, 
 affected to them?" 
 
 " She bears them still in expectation," said Telemachus, 
 " which she never means to fulfill, that she will accept the 
 hand of some one of them in second nuptials. For she 
 fears to displease them by an absolute refusal. So from 
 day to day she lingers them on with hope, while they have 
 entertainment at free cost in our palace." 
 
 Then said Ulysses, " Reckon up their numbers that we 
 may know their strength and ours, if we having none but 
 ourselves may hope to prevail against them." 
 
 " O father 1 " he replied, " I have ofttimes heard of your 
 fame for wisdom, and of the great strength of your arm, 
 but the venturous mind which your speeches now indicate 
 moves me even to amazement ; for in nowise can it consist 
 with wisdom or a sound mind that two should try their 
 strengths against a host. Nor five, or ten, or twice ten 
 strong are these suitors, biit many more by much: from 
 Dulichium came there fifty and two, they and their ser- 
 vants; twice twelve crossed the seas hither from Samos; 
 from Zacynthus twice ten ; of our native Ithacans, men of 
 chief note, are twelve who aspire to the crown of Penelope ; 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULTSSES 357 
 
 and all these under one strong roof, a fearful odds against 
 twol My father, there is need of caution lest the cup 
 which your great mind so thirsts to taste of vengeance 
 prove bitter to yourself in the drinking. And therefore it 
 were well that we should bethink us of some one who might 
 assist us in this undertaking." 
 
 " Thinkest thou," said his father, " if we had Athene and 
 the King of the skies to be our friends, would their sufficien- 
 cies make strong our part ; or must we look out for some 
 further aid yet?" 
 
 " They you speak of are above the clouds," said Telema- 
 chus, " and are sound aids indeed ; as powers that not only 
 exceed human, but bear the chiefest sway among the gods 
 themselves." 
 
 Then Uljreses gave directions to his son to go and mingle 
 •with the suitors, and in nowise to impart his secret to any, 
 not even to the queen his mother, but to hold himself in 
 readiness, and to have his weapons and his good armor in 
 preparation. And he charged him" that when he himself 
 should come to the palace, as he meant to follow shortly 
 after, and present himself in his beggar's likeness to the 
 suitors, that whatever he should see which might grieve his 
 heart, with what foul usage soever the suitors should receive 
 his father, coming in that shape, though they should strike 
 and drag him by the heels along the floors, that he should 
 not stir nor make offer to oppose them, further than by 
 mild words to expostulate with them, until Athene from 
 heaven should give the sign which should be the prelude to 
 their destruction. And Telemachus, promising to obey his 
 instructions, departed; and the shape of Ulysses fell to 
 what it had been before, and he became to all outward 
 appearance a beggar, in base and beggarly attire. 
 
368 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 IV. THE QUEEN'S SUITORS. 
 
 FROM the house of Eumseus the seeming beggar took 
 his way, leaning on his staff, till he reached the palace, 
 entering in at the hall where the suitors sat at meat. They 
 in the pride of their feasting began to break their jests in 
 mirthful manner when they saw one looking so poor and so 
 aged approach. He who expected no better entertainment 
 was nothing moved at their behavior, but, as became the 
 character which he had assumed, in a suppliant posture crept 
 by turns to every suitor, and held out his hands for some 
 charity, with such a natural and beggar-resembling grace 
 that he might seem to have practiced begging all his life ; 
 yet there was a sort of dignity in his most abject stoopings, 
 that whqever had seen him would have said, "If it had 
 pleased heaven that this poor man had been born a king, he 
 would gracefully have filled the throne." And some pitied 
 him, and some gave him alms, as their present humors 
 inclined them, but the greater part reviled him and bade 
 him begone, as one that spoiled their feast ; for the pres- 
 ence of misery has this power with it, that, while it stays, 
 it can dash and overturn the mirth even of those who feel 
 no pity or wish to relieve it, Nature bearing this witness 
 of herself in the hearts of the most obdurate. 
 
 Now Telemachus sat at meat with the suitors, and knew 
 that it was the king his father who in that shape begged 
 an alms ; and when his father came and presented himself 
 . before him in turn, as he had done to the suitors one by 
 one, he gave him of his own meat which he had in his 
 dish, and of his own cup to drink. And the suitors were 
 past measure offended to see a pitiful beggar, as they 
 esteemed him, to be so choicely regarded by the prince. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 259 
 
 Then Antinous,* who was a great lord, and of chief note 
 among the suitors, said, " Prince Telemachus does ill to 
 encourage these wandering beggars, who go from place to 
 place, affirming that they have been some considerable per- 
 sons in their time, filling the ears of such as hearken to 
 them with lies, and pressing with their bold feet into 
 kings' palaces. This is some saucy vagabond, some travel- 
 ing Egyptian." 
 
 "I see," said Ulysses, "that a poor man should get but 
 little at your board; scarce should he get salt from your 
 hands, if he brought his own meat." 
 
 Lord Antinous, indignant to be answered with such sharp- 
 ness by a supposed beggar, snatched up a stool, with which 
 he smote Ulysses where the neck and shoulders join. This 
 usage moved not Ulysses ; but in his great heart he med- 
 itated- deep evils to come upon them all, which for a time 
 must be kept close, and he went and sat himself down in 
 the doorway to eat of that which was given him ; and he 
 said, " For life or possessions a man will fight, but for his 
 appetite this man smites. If a poor man has any god to 
 take his part, my Lord Antinous shall not live to be the 
 queen's husband." 
 
 Then Antinous raged highly, and threatened to drag him 
 by the heels, and to rend his rags about his ears, if he spoke 
 another word. 
 
 But the other suitors did in nowise approve of the harsh 
 language, nor of the blow which Antinous had dealt j and 
 some of them said, "Who knows but one of the deities 
 goes about hid under that poor disguise ? for in the like- 
 ness of poor pilgrims the gods have many times descended 
 to try the dispositions of men, whether they be humane or 
 
 ' An-tin'o-us. 
 
860 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK 
 
 impious." While these things passed, Telemachus sat and 
 observed all, but held his peace, remembering the instruc- 
 tions of his father. But secretly he waited for the sign 
 which Athene was to send from heaven. 
 
 Tiiiit day there followed Ulysses to the court one of the 
 common sort of beggars, Irus by name, one that had re- 
 ceived alms beforetime of the suitors, and was their ordi- 
 nary sport when they were inclined, as that day, to give 
 way to mirth, to see him eat and drink; for he had the 
 appetite of six men, and was of huge stature and propor- 
 tions of body, yet had in him no spirit nor courage of a man. 
 This man, thinking to curry favor with the suitors, and 
 recommend himself especially to such a great lord as An- 
 tinous was, began to revile and scorn Ulysses, putting foul 
 language upon him, and fairly challenging him to fight with' 
 the fist. But Ulysses, deeming his railings to be nothing 
 more than jealousy and that envious disposition which beg- 
 gars commonly manifest to brothers in their trade, mildly 
 besought him not to trouble him, but to enjoy that portion 
 which the liberality of their entertainers gave him, as he 
 did quietly ; seeing that, of their bounty, there was suffi- 
 cient for all. 
 
 But Irus, thinking that this forbearance in Ulysses was 
 nothing more than a sign of fear, so much the more highly 
 stormed, and bellowed, and provoked him to fight ; and by 
 this time the quarrel had attracted the notice of the suitors 
 who with loud laughters and shouting egged on the dispute, 
 and Lord Antinous swore by all the gods it should be a 
 battle, and that in that hall the strife should be determined. 
 To this the rest of the suitors with violent clamors acceded, 
 and a circle was made for the combatiTit"?, and a fat goat 
 was proposed as the victor's prize, as at the Olympic or th? 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES Sai 
 
 Pythian games. Then Ulysses, seeing no remedy, or being 
 not unwilling that the suitors should behold some proof of 
 that strength which erelong in their own persons they were 
 to taste of, stripped himself, and prepared for the combat. 
 But first he demanded that he should have fair play shown 
 him, that none in the assembly should aid his opponent, or 
 take part against him, for, being an old man, they might 
 easily crush him with their strengths. And Telemachus 
 passed his word that no foul play should be shown him, 
 but that each party should be left to their own unassisted 
 strength, and to this he made Antinous and the rest of the 
 suit ors sw^ ar. 
 
 But when Ulysses had laid aside his garments, and was 
 bare to the waist, all the beholders admired the goodly sight 
 of his large shoulders, being of such exquisite shape and 
 whiteness, and at his great and brawny bosom, and the 
 youthful strength which seemed to remain in a man thought 
 so old ; and they said, " What limbs and what sinews he 
 has I" and coward fear seized on the mind of that great 
 vast beggar Irus, and he dropped Ms threats and his big 
 words, and would have fled, but Lord Antinous stayed him, 
 and threatened him that if he declined the combat, he would 
 put him in a ship, and land him on the shores where King 
 Echetus' reigned, the roughest tyrant which at that time 
 the world contained, and he had that antipathy to rascal 
 beggars, such as he was, that when any landed on his coast 
 he would crop their ears and noses and grive them to the 
 dogs to tear. So he, in whom fear of King Echetus pre- 
 vailed above the fear of Ulysses, addressed himself to fight. 
 But Ulysses, provoked to be engaged in so odious a strife 
 with a fellow of his base conditions, and loathing longer 
 
 ' Ech-e'tiis. 
 
263 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 to be made a spectacle to entertaiu the eyes of his foes, with 
 one bloWj which he struck him beneath the ear, laid him 
 sprawling in the dust, with small ability to renew the con- 
 test. Then raising him on his feet, he led him sputtering 
 to the door, and put his staff into his hand", and bade him 
 go use his command upon dogs and swine, but not presume 
 himself to be lord of the guests another time, nor of the 
 beggary I 
 
 The suitors applauded in their vain minds the issue of 
 the contest, and rioted in mirth at the expense of poor Irus, 
 who they vowed should be forthwith embarked, and sent to 
 King Echetus; and they bestowed thanks on Ulysses for 
 ridding the court of that unsavory morsel, as they called 
 him ; but in their inward souls, they would not have cared 
 if Irus had been victor, and Ulysses had taken the foil, but 
 it was mirth to them to see the beggars fight. In such 
 pastimes and light entertainments the day wore away. 
 
 When evening was come, the suitors betook themselves 
 to music and dancing. And Ulysses leaned his back 
 against a piUar from which certain lamps hung which gave 
 light to the dancers, and he made show of watching the 
 dancers, but very different thoughts were in his head. And 
 as he stood near the lamps, the light fell upon his head, 
 which was thin of hair and bald, as an old man's. And 
 Eurymachus,' a suitor, taking occasion from some words 
 which he had spoken before, scoffed, and said, "Now I 
 know for a certainty that some god lurks under the poor 
 and beggarly appearance of this man, for, as he stands by 
 the lamps, his sleek head throws beams around it, like as 
 it were a glory." And another said, " He passes his time, 
 too, not much unlike the gods, lazily living exempt from 
 ' Xiu-rytn'a-chua. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. S63 
 
 labor, taking offerings of men." " I warrant," said Eurym 
 achus again, "he could not raise a fence or dig a ditch 
 for his livelihood if a man should hire hiln." 
 
 " I wish," said Ulysses, " that you who speak this and 
 myself were to be tried at any taskwork : that I had a good 
 crooked scythe put in my hand, that was sharp and strong, 
 and you such another, where the grass grew longest, to be 
 up by daybreak, mowing the meadows till the sun went 
 down, not tasting of food till he had finished ; or that we 
 were set to plow four acres in one day of good glebe land, 
 to see whose furrows were evenest and cleanest; or that 
 we might have one wrestling bout together ; or that in our 
 right hands a good steel-headed lance were placed, to try 
 whose blows fell heaviest and thickest upon the adversary's 
 headpiece. I would cause you such work as you would 
 have small reason to reproach me with being slack at work. 
 But you would do well to spare me this reproach, and to 
 save your strength till the day when Ulysses shall return, 
 when returning he shall enter upon his birthright." 
 
 This was a galling speech to those suitors, to whom Ulys- 
 ses's return .was indeed the thing which they most dreaded, 
 and a sudden fear fell upon their souls, as if they were 
 sensible of the real presence of that man who did indeed 
 stand amongst them, but not in that form as they might 
 know him; and Eurymachiis, incensed, snatched a massy 
 cup which stood on a table near and hurled it at the head 
 of the supposed beggar, and but narrowly missed the hitting 
 of him ; and all the suitors rose, as at once, to thrust him 
 out of the hall, which they said his beggarly presence and 
 his rude speeches had profaned. But Telemachus cried to 
 them to forbear, and not to presume to lay hands upon 
 a wretched man to whom he had promised protection 
 
S64 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 He asked if they were mad, to mix such abhorred uproar 
 with his feasts. He bade them take their food and their 
 wine, to sit up or to go to bed at their free pleasures, so 
 long as he should give license to that freedom ; but why- 
 should they abuse his banquet, or let the words which 
 the poor beggar spake have power to move them so fiercely? 
 
 They bit their hps and frowned for anger to be checked 
 so by a youth : nevertheless for that time they had the grace 
 to abstain, either for shame, or that Athene had infused 
 into them a terror of Ulysses's son. 
 
 So that day's feast was concluded without bloodshed, and 
 the suitors, tired with their sports, departed severally each 
 man to his apartment. Only Ulysses and Telemachus re- 
 mained. And now Telemachus, by his father's direction, 
 went and brought down into the hall, armor and lances from 
 the armory ; for Ulysses said, " On the morrow we shall 
 have need of them," And moreover he said, " If any one 
 shall ask why you have taken them down, say it is to clean 
 them and scour them from the rust which they have gath- 
 ered since the owner of this house went for Troy." And 
 as Telemachus stood by the armor, the lights were all gone 
 out, and it was pitch dark, and the armor gave out glisten- 
 ing beams as of fire, and he said to his father, " The pillars of 
 the house are on fire." And his father said, " It is the gods 
 ivho sit above the stars, and have power to make the night 
 IS light as the day." And he took it for a good omen. 
 A-nd Telemachus fell to cleaning and sharpening the lances. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULTSSEa S65 
 
 V. THE MEETING WITH PENELOPE. _ 
 
 NOW Ulysses had not seen his wife Penelope in all the 
 time since his return ; for the queen did not care to 
 mingle with the suitors at their banquets, but, as became one 
 who had been Ulysses's wife, kept much in private, spinning 
 and doing her excellent housewiferies among her maids in 
 the remote apartments of the palace. Only upon solemn 
 days she would come down and show herself to the suitors. 
 And Ulysses was filled with a longing desire to see his wife 
 again, whom for twenty years he had not beheld, and he 
 softly stole through the known passages of his beautiful 
 house, tiU he came where the maids were lighting the 
 queen through a stately gallery that led to the chamber 
 where she slept. And when the maids saw Ulysses, they 
 said, "It is the beggar who came to the court to-day, 
 about whom all that uproar was stirred up in the hall ; 
 what does he here?" But Penelope gave commandment 
 that he should be brought before her, for she said, "It 
 may be that he has traveled, and has heard something 
 concerning Ulysses." 
 
 Then was Ulysses right glad to hear himself named by 
 his queen, to find himself in nowise forgotten, nor her 
 great love towards him decayed in all that time that he 
 had been away. And he stood before his queen, and she 
 knew him not to be Ulysses, but supposed that he had been 
 some poor traveler. And she asked him of what country 
 he was. 
 
 He told her (as he had before told Eumseus) that he 
 was a Cretan bom, and, however poor and cast down he 
 now seemed, no less a man than brother to Idomeneus, 
 
860 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURK 
 
 who was grajidson to King Minos; and though he now 
 wanted bread, he had once had it in his power to feast 
 Ulysses. Then he feigned how Ulysses, sailing for Troy, 
 was forced by stress of weather to put his fleet in at a port 
 of Crete, where for twelve days he was his guest and 
 entertained by him with all befitting guest-rites. And he 
 described the very garments which Ulysses had on, by 
 which Penelope knew he had seen her lord. 
 
 In~this manner Ulysses told his wife many tales of him- 
 self, at most but painting, but painting so near to the life 
 that the feeling of that which she took in at her ears became 
 so strong that the kindly tears ran down her fair cheeks, 
 while she thought upon her lord, dead as she thought him, 
 and heavily mourned the loss of him whom she missed, 
 whom she could not find, though in veiy deed he stood so 
 near her. 
 
 Ulysses was moved to see her weep, but he kept his own 
 eyes dry as iron or horn in their lids, putting a bridle upon 
 his strong passion, that it should not issue to sight. 
 
 Then told he how he had lately been at the court of 
 Thesprotia, and what he had learned concerning Ulysses 
 there, in order as he had delivered to Eumseus ; and Penel- 
 ope was wont to believe that there might be a possibility 
 of Ulysses being alive, and she said, " I dreamed a dream 
 this morning. Methought I had twenty household fowl 
 which did eat wheat steeped in water from my hand, and 
 there came suddenly from the clouds a crook -beaked hawk, 
 who soused on them and killed them all, trussing their 
 necks ; then took his flight back up to the clouds. And in 
 my dream methought that I wept and made great moan 
 for my fowls, and for the destruction which the hawk had 
 made ; and my maids came about me to comfort me. And 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. S67 
 
 in the height of my griefs the hawk came back, and light- 
 ing upon the beam of my chamber, he said to me in a man's 
 voice, which sounded strangely even in my di'eam, to hear 
 a hawk to speak : ' Be of good cheer,' he said, ' O daughter 
 of Icarius 1 for this is no dream which thou hast seen, but 
 that which shall happen to thee indeed. Those household 
 fowl, which thou lamentest so without reason, are the 
 suitors who devour thy substance, even as thou sawest the 
 fowl eat from thy hand ; and the hawk is thy husband, 
 who is coming to give death to the suitors.' And I 
 awoke and went to see my fowls if they were alive, whom 
 I found eating wheat from their troughs, all well and safe 
 as before my dream." 
 
 Then said Ulysses, "This dream can endure no other 
 interpretation than that which the hawk gave to it, who is 
 your lord, and who is coming quickly to effect all that his 
 words told you." 
 
 "Your words," she said, "my old guest, are so sweet 
 that would you sit and please me with your speech, my ears 
 would never let my eyes close their spheres for very joy of 
 your discourse ; but none that is merely mortal can live 
 without the death of sleep, so the gods who are without 
 death themselves have ordained it, to keep the memory of 
 our mortality in our minds, while we experience that as 
 much as we live we die every day ; in which consideration 
 I will ascend my bed, which I have nightly watered with 
 my tears since he that was my joy departed from that bad 
 city," she so speaking because she could not bring her 
 lips to name the name of Troy so much hated. So for that 
 night they parted, Penelope to her bed and Ulysses to his 
 son, and to the armor and the lances in the hall, where they 
 sat up aH night cleaning and watching by the armor. 
 
868 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 VL THE MADNESS FROM ABOVE. 
 
 WHEN daylight appeared, a tumultuous concourse of 
 the suitors again filled the hall; and some wondered, 
 and some inquired what meant that glittering store of armor 
 and lances which lay in heaps by the entry of the door ; and 
 to all that asked, Telemachus made reply that he had caused 
 them to be taken down to cleanse them of the rust which 
 they had contracted by lying so long .unused, even ever 
 since his father went for Troy ; and with that answer their 
 minds were easily satisfied. So to their feasting and vain 
 rioting again they fell. Ulysses, by Telemachus's order, 
 had a seat and a mess assigned him in the doorway, and 
 he had his eye ever on the lances. And it moved gall in 
 some of the great ones there present to have their feast 
 dulled with the society of that wretched beggar as they 
 deemed him, and they reviled and spumed at him with 
 their feet. Only there was one Philsetius, who had a 
 better nature than the rest, that spake kindly to him, and 
 had his age in respect. He, coming up to Ulysses, took 
 him by the hand with a kind of fear, as if touched exceed- 
 ingly with imagination of his great worth, and said thus to 
 him : " Hail 1 father stranger I my brows have sweat to see 
 the injuries which you have received, and my eyes have 
 broken forth in tears, when I have only thought that such 
 being oftentimes the lot of worthiest men, to this plight 
 Ulysses may be reduced, and that he now may wander from 
 place to place as you do ; for such who are compelled by 
 need to range here and there, and have no firm home to fix 
 their feet upon, God keeps them in this earth as under 
 water ; so are they kept down and depressed. And a dark 
 thread is sometimes spun in the fates of kings." 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSEa 369 
 
 At this bare likening of the beggar to Ulysses, Athene 
 from heaven made the suitors for foolish joy to go mad, and 
 roused them to such a laughter as would never stop. They 
 laughed without power of ceasing, their eyes stood full of 
 tears for violent joys; but fears and horrible misgivings 
 succeeded, and one among them stood up and prophesied : 
 " Ah, wretches I " he said, "what madness from heaven has 
 seized you, that you can laugh ? See you not that your meat 
 drops blood ? A night, like the night of death, wraps you 
 about; you shriek without knowing it; your eyes thrust 
 forth tears; the fixed walls, and the beam that bears the 
 whole house up, fall blood ; ghosts choke up the entry ; fuU 
 is the hall with apparitions of murdered men ; under your 
 feet is hell ; the sun falls from heaven, and it is midnight 
 at noon." But like men whom the gods had infatuated to 
 their dest'uction, they mocked at his fears, and Eurym- 
 achus said, " This man is surely mad ; conduct him forth 
 into the market place, set him in the light, for he dreams 
 that 't is night within the house." 
 
 But Theoclymenus * (for that was the prophet's name), 
 whom Athene had graced with a prophetic spirit, that he 
 foreseeing might avoid the destruction which awaited them, 
 answered and said: "Eurymachus, I will not require a 
 guide of thee, for I have eyes and ears, the use of both my 
 feet, and a sane mind within me, and with these I will go 
 forth of the doors, because I know the imminent evils 
 vyhich await you all that stay, by reason of this poor guest 
 who is a favorite with all the gods." So sajdng, he turned 
 his back upon those inhospitable men, and went away 
 home, and never returned to the palace. 
 
 These words which he spoke were not unheard by Telem- 
 ' The-o-clytn'e-nus. 
 
S70 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 achus, who kept still his eye on his father, expecting 
 fervently when he would give the sign which was to 
 precede the slaughter of the suitors. 
 
 They, dreaming of no such thing, fell sweetly to their 
 dinner, as joying in the great store of banquet which was 
 heaped in full tables about them ; but there reigned not a 
 bitterer banquet planet i«.all heaven than that which hung 
 over them this day by secret destination of Athene. 
 
 Vn. THE BOW OF ULYSSES. 
 
 THERE was a bow which Ulysses left when he went for 
 Troy. It had lain by since that time, out of use and 
 "unstrung, for no man had strength to draw that bow save 
 Ulysses. So it had remained, as a monument r.f the great 
 Strength of its master. This bow, with the quiver of 
 arrows belonging thereto, Telemachus had brought down 
 from the armory on the last night along with the lances ; 
 and now Athene, intending to do Ulysses an honor, put it 
 into the mind of Telemachus to propose to the suitors to 
 try who was strongest to draw that bow ; and he promised 
 that to the man who should be able to draw that bow his 
 mother should be given in marriage, — Ulysses's wife the 
 prize to him who should bend the bow of Ulysses. 
 
 There was great strife and emulation stirred up among 
 the suitors at those words of the Prince Telemachus. And 
 to grace her son's words, and to confirm the promise which 
 he had made, Penelope came and showed herself that day 
 to the suitors ; and Athene made her that she appeared 
 never so comely in their sight as that day, and they were 
 inflamed with the beholding of so much beauty, proposed 
 as the price of so greai manhood ; and they cried out that 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSEa 271 
 
 if all those heroes who sailed to Colchis ' for the rich pur- 
 chase of the golden-fleeced ram had seen earth's richer 
 prize, Penelope, they would not have made their voyage, 
 but would have vowed their valors and their lives to her, 
 for she was at all parts faultless. ' ' 
 
 And she said, "The gods have taken my beauty from 
 me, since my lord went for Troy." But Telemachus willed 
 his mother to depart and not be present at that contest; 
 for he said, " It may be some rougher strife shall chance 
 of this than may be expedient for a woman to witness." 
 And she retired, she and her maids, and left the hall. 
 
 Then the bow was brought into the midst, and a mark 
 was set up by Prince Telemachus; and Lord Antinous, as 
 the chief among the suitors, had the first offer; and he 
 took the bow, and, fitting an arrow to the string, he strove 
 to bend it, but not with all his might and main could he 
 once draw together the ends of that tough bow; and when 
 he found how vain a thing it was to endeavor to draw 
 Ulysses's bow, he desisted, blushing for shame and for 
 mere anger. Then Eurymachus adventured, but with no 
 better success ; but as it had torn the hands of Antinous, 
 so did the bow tear and strain his hands, and marred his 
 delicate fingers, yet could he not once stir the string. 
 
 Then called he to the attendants to bring fat and unctu- 
 ous matter, which melting at the fire, he dipped the bow 
 therein, thinking to supple it and make it more pliable ; 
 but not with all the helps of art could he succeed in mak- 
 ing it to move. After him Liodes,^ and Amphinomus,^ and 
 Polybus,* and Eurynomus,^ and Polyctorides « essayed their 
 strength, but not any one of them, or of the rest of those 
 
 » Col'chia (Kol'kis). « Am-phin'o mu3. « Eu-ryn'o-mus. 
 
 4 LI-o'deB * Pol'y-bu5. « Pol-yo-tor'i-des. 
 
273 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 aspiring suitors, had any better luck ; yet not the meanest 
 of them there but thought himself well worthy of Ulysses's 
 wife, though, to shoot with Ulysses's bow, the completest 
 champion among them was by proof found too feeble. 
 
 Then Ulysses prayed that he might have leave to try; 
 and immediately a clamor was raised among the suitors, 
 because of his petition, and they scorned and swelled with 
 rage at his presumption, and that a beggar should seek to 
 contend in a game of such noble mastery. But Telema- 
 chus ordered that the bow should be given him, and that 
 he should have leave to try, since they had failed ; " For," 
 he said, " the bow is mine, to give or to withhold ; " and 
 none durst gainsay the prince. 
 
 Then Ulysses gave a sign to his son, and he commanded 
 the doors of the hall to be made fast, and all wondered at 
 his words, but none could divine the cause. And Ulysses 
 took the bow in his hands, and before he essayed to bend 
 it he surveyed it at all parts to see whether by long lying 
 by it had contracted any stiffness which hindered the draw- 
 ing; and as he was busied in the curious sui-veying of 
 his bow some of the suitors mocked him, and said, " Past 
 doubt this man is a right cunning archer, and knows 
 his craft well. See how he turns it over and over, and 
 looks into it as if he could see through the wood." And 
 others said, " We wish some one would tell out gold into 
 our laps but for so long a time as he shall be in drawing 
 of that string." 
 
 But when he had spent some little time in making proof 
 of the bow, and had found it to be in good plight, like as a 
 harper in tuning of his harp draws out a string, with such 
 ease or much more did Ulysses draw to the head the string 
 of his own tough bow. and in letting of it go, it twanged 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 273 
 
 with such a shrill noise as a swallow makes when it sings 
 through the air, which so much amazed the suitors that their 
 colors came and went, and the skies gave out a noise of 
 thunder, which at heart cheered Ulysses, for he knew that 
 now his long labors by the disposal of the Fates drew to an 
 end. Then fitted he an arrow to the bow, and drawing it to 
 the head, he sent it right to the mark which the prince had 
 «et up. Which done, he said to Telemachus, " You have got 
 no disgrace yet by your guest, for I have struck the mark 
 I shot at, and have myself no such trouble 'in teasing, the 
 bow with fat and fire as these men did, but have made proof 
 that my strength is not impaired, nor my age so weak and 
 contemptible as these were pleased to think it. 5ut come, 
 the day going down calls us to supper, after which .suc- 
 ceed poem and harp, and all delights which used to 
 crown princely banquetings." 
 
 Vm, THE SLAUGHTER. 
 
 SO saying, he beckoned to his son, who straight gir^ his 
 sword to his side, and took one of the lances (of which 
 there lay great store from the armory) in his hand, and 
 armed at all points advanced towards his father. 
 
 The upper rags which Ulysses wore fell from his 
 shoulder, and his own kingly likeness returned, when he 
 rushed to the great hall door with bow and quiver full of 
 shafts, which down at his feet he poured, and in bitter 
 words presignified his deadly intent on the suitors. 
 "Thus far," he said, "this contest has been decided 
 harmless; now for us there rests another mark, harder to 
 hit, but which my hands .shall essay notwithstanding, if 
 Phoebus, god of archers, be pleased to g've me the 
 mastery." With that he let fly a deadly arrow at 
 
2?4 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Antinous, which pierced him in the throat as he was 
 in the act of lifting a cup of wine to his mouth. Amaze- 
 ment seized the suitors as their great champion fell dead, 
 and they raged highly against Ulysses, and said that it 
 should prove the dearest shaft which he ever let fly, for 
 he had slain a man whose like breathed not in any part 
 of the kingdom ; and they flew to their arms, and would 
 have seized the lances, but Athene struck them with 
 iliraness of sight that they went erring up and down the 
 hall, not knowing where to find them. Yet so infatuated 
 
 John Flaxhait. 
 
 DLYSSES SLATING THE SUITORS. 
 
 were they by the displeasure of heaven that they did not 
 see the imminent peril which impended over them, but 
 every man believed that this accident had happened beside 
 the intention of the doer. Fools I to think by shutting 
 their eyes to evade destiny, or that any other cup remained 
 for them but that which their great Antinous had tasted I 
 Then Ulysses revealed himself to all in that presence, 
 and that he was the man whom they held to be dead at 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 276 
 
 Troy, whose palace they had usurped, whose wife in his life- 
 time they had sought in impious marriage, and that for this 
 reason destruction was come upon them. And he dealt his 
 deadly arrows among them, and there was no avoiding him 
 nor escaping from his horrid person ; and Telemachus by 
 his side plied them thick with those murderous lances from 
 which there was no retreat, till fear itself made them val- 
 iant, and danger gave them eyes to understand the evil. 
 Then they which had swords drew them, and some with 
 shields, that could find them, and some with tables and 
 benches snatched up in haste, rose in a mass to overwhelm 
 and crush those two ; yet they singly bestirred themselves 
 like men and defended themselves against that great host, 
 t<,nd thi'ough tables, shields, and all, right through the 
 arrows of Ulysses clove, and the irresistible lances of Telem 
 achus ; a,nd many lay dead, and all had wounds, and 
 Athene in the likeness of a bird sat upon the beam which 
 went across the hall, clapping her wings with a fearful 
 noise ; and sometimes the great bird would fly among them, 
 cuffing at the swords and at the lances, and up and down 
 the hall would go, beating her wings and troubling every- 
 thing, that it was frightful to behold, and it frayed the 
 blood from the cheeks of those heaven-hated suitors ; but to 
 Ulysses and to his son she appeared in her own divine simil- 
 itude, with her snake-fringed shield, a goddess armed, fight- 
 ing their battles. Nor did that dreadful pair desist till they 
 had laid all their foes at their feet. At their feet they lay 
 in shoals; like fishes, when the fishermen break up their 
 nets, so they lay gasping and sprawling at the feet of 
 Ulysses and liis son. And Ulysses remembered the predic- 
 tion of Tiresias, which said that he was to perish by his owr. 
 guests, unless he slew those who knew him not 
 
276 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 IX. CONCLUSION. 
 
 ■*HEN certain of the queen's household 
 went up and told Penelope what had 
 happened, and how her lord, Ulysses, was 
 come home and had slain the suitors. But 
 she gave no heed to their words, but thought 
 that some frenzy possessed them, or that they mocked 
 her ; for it is the property of such extremes of sorrow 
 as she had felt not to believe when any great joy cometh. 
 And she rated and chid them exceedingly for troubling her. 
 But they the more persisted in their asseverations of the 
 truth of what they had affirmed ; and some of them had 
 seen the slaughtered bodies of the suitors dragged forth of 
 the hall. And they said, "That poor guest whom you 
 talked with last night was Ulysses." Then she was yet more 
 fully persuaded that they mocked her, and she wept. But 
 they said, " This thing is true which we have told. We sat 
 within, in an inner room in the palace, and the doors of the 
 hall were shut on us, but we heard the cries and the groans 
 of the men that were killed, but saw nothing till at length 
 your son called to us to come in, and, entering, we saw Ulys- 
 ses standing in the midst of the slaughtered." But she, per- 
 sisting in her unbelief, said that it was some god which had 
 deceived them to think it was the person of Ulysses. 
 
 By this time Telemachus and his father had cleansed 
 their hands from the slaughter and were come to where the 
 queen was talking with those of htv housebolc' , and when 
 she saw Ulysses she stood motionless, and had no power to 
 
■ THE ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. 277 
 
 speak, sudden surprise and joy and fear and many passions 
 so strove within her. Sometimes she was clear that it was 
 her husband that she saw, and sometimes the alteration 
 which twenty years had made in his person (yet that was 
 not much) perplexed her that she knew not what to think, 
 and for joy she could not believe, and yet for joy she would 
 not but believe ; and above all, that sudden change from a 
 beggar to a king troubled her, and wrought uneasy scruples 
 in her mind. But Telemachus, seeing her strangeness, 
 blamed her, and called her an ungentle and tyrannous 
 mother, and said that she showed a too great curiousness of 
 modesty to abstain from embracing his father, and to have 
 doubts of his person, when to all present it was evident 
 that he was the very real and true Ulysses. 
 
 Then she mistrusted no longer, but ran and fell upon 
 Ulysses's neck, and said, " Let not my husband be angry 
 that I held off so long with strange delays ; it is the gods, 
 who, severing us for so long time, have caused this un- 
 seemly distance in me. If Menelaus's wife had used half my 
 caution, she would never have taken so freely to a stranger ; 
 and she might have spared us all these plagues which have 
 come upon us through her shameless deed." .- 
 
 These words with which Penelope excused herself 
 wrought more affection in Ulysses than if upon a first sight 
 she had given up herself implicitly to his embraces ; and he 
 wept for joy to possess a wife so discreet, so answering to 
 his own staid mind, that had a depth of wit proportioned to 
 his own, and one that held chaste virtue at so high a price ; 
 and he thought the possession of such a one cheaply pur- 
 chased with the loss of all Circe's delights and Calypso's 
 immortality of joys ; and his long labors and his severe suf- 
 ferings past seemed as nothing now they were crowned with 
 
278 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE;. 
 
 the presence of his virtuous aad true wife Penelope. And 
 as sad men at sea, whose ship has gone to pieces nigh shore, 
 swimming for their lives, all drenched in foam and brine, 
 crawl up to some poor patch of land, which they take posses- 
 sion of with as great a joy as if they had the world given 
 
 B. PnmmiccHio. 
 
 MEETING or TTLYSSE8 AND PENELOPE. 
 
 them in fee, with such delight did this chaste, wife cling to 
 her lord restored, and once again clasped the living Ulysses. 
 So from that time the land had rest from the suitors. 
 And the happy Ithacans with songs and solemn sacrifices of 
 praise to the gods celebrated the return of Ulysses; for he 
 that had been so long absent was returned to wi'eak the 
 evil upon the heads of the doers; in the place where they had 
 done the evil there wreaked he his vengeance upon them. 
 
MOSES ON THE NILE. 879 
 
 XLIV. MOSES ON THE NILE. 
 
 Translated from Victor Hugo. 
 
 •'OISTERS ! the wave is freshest in the ray 
 >^ Of the young morning ; the reapers are asleep, 
 The river bank is lonely : come away I 
 
 The early murmurs of old Memphis creep 
 Faint on my ear ; and here unseen we stray, — 
 Deep in the covert of the grove withdrawn, 
 Save by the dewy eye-glance of the dawn. 
 
 " Within my father's palace, fair to see. 
 
 Shine all the arts ; but, oh I this riverside. 
 Pranked with gay flowers, is dearer far to me 
 
 Than gold and pagghyry vases bright and v/ide. 
 How glad in heaven the song bird carols free I 
 
 Sweeter these zephyrs float than all the showers 
 
 Of costly odors in our royal bowers. 
 
 "The sky is pure, the sparkling stream is clear: 
 Unloose your zones, my maidens I and fling down 
 
 To float awhile upon these bushes near 
 
 Your blue, transparent robes ; take off my crOwn, 
 
 Ari(i take away my jealous veil ; for here 
 To-day we shall be joyous while we lave 
 Our limbs amid the murmur of the wave. 
 
 " Hasten ; but through the fleecy mists of morn, 
 What do I see ? Look ye along the stream I 
 
 Nay, timid maidens, we must not return I 
 Coursing along the current, it would seem 
 
 An ancient palm tree to the deep sea borne. 
 That from the distant wilderness proceeds. 
 Downwards, to view our wondrous Pyramids. 
 
880 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE, 
 
 " But stay ! if I may surely trust mine eye, — 
 
 It is the bark of Hermes, or the shell 
 Of Iris, wafted gently to the sighs 
 
 Of the light breeze along the rippling swell 
 But no : it is a skiff where sweetly lies' 
 
 An infant slumbering, and his peaceful rest 
 
 Looks as if pillowed on its mother's breast. 
 
 " He sleeps ; oh, see 1 his little floating bed 
 Swims on the mighty river's fickle flow, 
 
 A white dove's nest ; and there at hazard led 
 By the faint winds, and, wandering to and fro, 
 
 The cot comes down ; beneath his quiet head 
 
 The gulfs are moving, and each threatening wave 
 Appears to rock the child upon a grave. 
 
 •* He wakes 5 ah, maids of Memphis ! haste, oh, haste I 
 He cries, alas ! What mother could confide 
 
 Her offspring to the wild and watery waste ! 
 He stretches out his arms, the rippling tide 
 
 Murmurs around him, where, all rudely placed. 
 He rests with but a few frail reeds beneath. 
 Between such helpless innocence and death. 
 
 " Oh ! take him up ! Perchance he is of those 
 Dark sons of Israel whom my sire proscribes ; 
 
 Ah ! cruel was the mandate that arose 
 Against most guiltless of the stranger tribes I 
 
 Poor child I my heart is yearning for his woes, 
 I would I were his mother ; but I 'U give. 
 If not his birth, at least the claim to live." 
 
 Thus Iphis spoke ; the royal hope and pride 
 
 Of a great monarch ; while her damsels nigh. 
 Wandered along the Nile's meandering side , 
 
MOSES ON THE NILE S81 
 
 And these diminished beauties, standing by 
 The trembling mother, watching with eyes wide 
 Their graceful mistress, admired her as she stood 
 More lovely than the genius of the flood I 
 
 The waters broken by her delicate feet 
 
 Receive the eager wader, as alone 
 By gentlest pity led, she strives to meet 
 
 The wakened babe ; and, see, the prize is won ' 
 She holds the weeping burden with a sweet 
 
 And virgin glow of pride upon her brow, 
 
 That knew no flush save modesty's till now. 
 
 Opening with cautious hands the reedy couch, 
 She brought the rescued infant slowly out 
 
 Beyond the humid sands ;- at her approach 
 Her curious maidens hurried round about, 
 
 To kiss the new-born brow with gentlest touch ■ 
 Greeting the child with smiles, and bending nigh 
 Their faces o'er his large, astonished eye ! 
 
 Haste thou who, from afar, in doubt and fear. 
 Dost watch, with straining eyes, the fated boy, — 
 
 The loved of heaven ! Come like a stranger near 
 And clasp young Moses with maternal joy ; 
 
 Nor fear the speechless transport and the tear 
 Will e'er betray thy fond and hidden claim, 
 For Iphis knows not yet a mother's name f 
 
 With a glad heart, and a triumphal face. 
 The princess to the haughty Pharaoh led 
 
 The humble infant of a hated race. 
 
 Bathed with the bitter tears a parent shed . 
 
 \V liile loudly pealing round the holy place 
 
S82 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Of Heaven's white Throne, the voice of angel choirs 
 Intoned the theme of their undying lyres I 
 
 " No longer mourn thy pilgrimage below — 
 O Jacob I Let thy tears no longer swell 
 
 The torrent of the Egyptian River : lo ! 
 
 Soon on the Jordan's banks thy tents shall dwell s 
 
 And Goshen shall behold thy people go, 
 
 Despite the power of Egypt's law and brand. 
 From their sad thrall to Canaan's promised land. 
 
 " The King of Plagues, the Chosen of Sinai, 
 Is he that, o'er the rushing waters driven, 
 
 A vigorous hand hath rescued for the sky. 
 
 Ye whose proud hearts disowi^ the ways of heaven ! 
 
 Attend, be humble ! for its power is nigh : 
 Israel I a cradle shall redeem thy worth — 
 A cradle yet shall save the widespread earth ! " 
 
 XLV. WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 By Peter Parley.* 
 
 T yl 7E must travel back more than five himdred years, and 
 * » take our stand in the center of Europe at the 
 period when the Dark Ages are nearly passed, and the light 
 of civilization is beginning to dawn along the horizon. 
 
 1 Peter Parley was a name often seen during the earlier part of 
 the present century, connected with books of histoiy and biography for 
 young people. Many men and women now living received their first 
 love for history from the reading of Peter Parley's books. 
 
 The real name of this writer was Samuel Griswold Goodrich. He 
 was born in Ridgefield, Connecticut, in 1793, and died in New York City 
 in 1860. 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 283 
 
S84 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 At this epoch, Rudolph, Count of Haps burg, in Switzer- 
 land, appeared upon the stage, of history. His possessions 
 were small, but he had fine talents, a good address, and 
 boundless ambition, and in the course of events he became 
 the emperor of Germany. This was in 1273. Prom him 
 the present house of Austria is descended. It was the 
 son of this Rudolph, Albert I., his. father's successor as 
 emperor, who gave rise to the events connected with the his- 
 tory of William Tell. He was a grasping prince, and, wish- 
 ing to increase his territorial dominions, undertook to unite 
 the forest cantons of Switzerland, as they were called, to his 
 personal estates of Hapsburg, which he had inherited. 
 
 These cantons belonged to the German empire, and, as 
 they had been mildly governed, they wished to continue 
 so. Thby therefore rejected the overtures of Albert, at 
 which he was greatly incensed. Accordingly, in his capa- 
 city of emperor, he sent governors to harass, oppress, and 
 punish them. There were two detestable characters, named 
 Gessler and Landenberg- 
 
 The people were now exposed to all the vexatious perse- 
 cutions of little tyrants, who were anxious to recommend 
 themselves, by abuse of power, to the favor of an angry 
 master. 
 
 The governors never appeared in public unless they 
 were surrounded by a numerous guard. Nor did they omit 
 other precautions designed alike to secure themselves 
 against sudden outbursts of popular fury and to rivet more 
 firmly the chains which it was the sole object of their 
 mission to impose. 
 
 Fortresses were erected in the disaffected places, into 
 which persons of every description were thrown upon the 
 slightest grounds of suspicion. At the same time, com- 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 285 
 
 mercial intercourse with their neighbors was entirely denied 
 to the people by the duties imposed upon merchandise of 
 every kind in its passage to and from the forest cantons. 
 
 Gessler, passing one day by a neat and comfortable house, 
 which had been lately built by a person of the name of 
 Stauffacher, and which was decorated with more than 
 common elegance, inquired for the owner, and addressed 
 him thus, with a smile of contempt : " Do you think such 
 a dwelling suited to the condition of a peasant? You 
 complain of the emperor's taxes, but while he leaves you 
 the means to erect such buildings as these, you have too 
 much reason to be thankful." And immediately he ordered 
 his followers to pull it down. Stauffacher, from that mo- 
 ment, became an ardeut champion in the cause of liberty. 
 
 Landenberg was no less active in sowing the seeds of 
 discontent. Having seized the oxen belonging to a respect- 
 able farmer, for some slight offense, the owner implored him 
 to inflict some other punishment if he should in reality be 
 found guilty of the crime of which he was accused ; for 
 that, otherwise, he must be ruined, having no other means 
 of cultivating his farm. 
 
 " Let the miscreant draw his own plow ! " was the 
 reply; and immediately another hero was enlisted under 
 the standard of freedom. 
 
 Henry of Melchthal, a strong advocate for the inde- 
 pendence of his country, and who by the integrity of his 
 character had become an object of general respect, was 
 selected as another victim. Landenberg sent, upon some 
 trifling provocation, to seize his oxen. His son, a gallant 
 youth, opposed the execution of the decree, and drove 
 away the officers with the same whip with which he had 
 before been di-iving the plow. 
 
286 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 Young Melchthal fled. The governor, who was angered 
 beyond description at the insult which had been offered 
 to his authority, and still more so to find that his prey 
 had escaped, commanded the aged father to be dragged 
 into his presence, and, after reviling him in the most in 
 suiting language, caused his eyes to be put out, while he 
 himself stood by to see the savage sentence executed. 
 
 Gessler was the slave of vanity, and sought by every 
 means to gratify his ruling passion. Among other means, 
 he caused a pole to be erected in the market place at 
 Altorf, and a hat to be hung upon it, to which he ordered 
 all the passers-by to pay the same respect that was due 
 to his own person. 
 
 So wanton a display of tyranny could not fail to inflame 
 the public, who wanted no new outrage to make them 
 feel the misery of their state. Yet so completely were 
 they kept in awe by the numerous fortresses which the 
 new government had erected in all parts of their terri- 
 tory that they sank into sullen despondency. 
 
 "Stauffacher appears to have been the first to conceive the 
 idea of deliverance from this cruel tyranny. In silence 
 he thought upon the degraded state to which his country 
 was reduced. He brooded over her wrongs in secret. 
 Having reduced his ideas to a regular plan, he hastened 
 to communicate them to his friend, Walter Fiirst. At 
 his house he met young Arnold of Melchthal, who had 
 taken refuge under his hospitable roof from the pursuit 
 of Landenberg. 
 
 They had suffered in the same cause, and flew to each 
 other's arms with all the attachment of men who were 
 connected by the strongest of ties, — the love of freedom. 
 They bound themselves by the most solemn promise to 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 287 
 
 break the fetters of their country, or to perish in the 
 attempt. 
 
 Having finally engaged to observe the profoundest se- 
 crecy, and agreed that no partial attempts should be made 
 till the mine was ready to be sprung, and having fixed 
 upon a place where they might meet with a few chosen 
 friends to consult upon the necessary preparations for a 
 general insurrection, they took leave of each other. 
 
 To spread the electric flame among a people whose 
 wishes were in perfect agreement with their own required 
 not the arts of persuasion. The founders of Swiss lib- 
 erty met with a sure and ardent friend in every person 
 to whom they intrusted the important secret. But they 
 were cautious in their measures, and discreet in the selec- 
 tions they made. 
 
 On the seventeenth of November, 1307, the day fixed 
 for their meeting, each of them appeared at the appointed 
 spot, attended by ten chosen companions. This noctur- 
 nal assembly was held in the field of Rutli, a retired 
 meadow on the shores of the Lake of Lucerne. Its lonely 
 situation and surrounding rocks seemed to make a sur- 
 prise impossible. Conscious, however, that a secret which 
 was known to so many persons was at best dangerous, 
 the greater part of the conspirators were for an immediate 
 rising, declaring that, in situations like theirs, delay wr.s 
 ruin. Melchthal, on the contrary, employed every argument 
 he was master of to combat any such hasty action. 
 
 The energy with which he spoke brought over the 
 whole assembly to his opinion. All ideas of an immedi- 
 ate attack were laid aside, and the first day of the new 
 year was appointed for the carrying out of the momentous 
 plan. This important business being thus decided, every 
 
288 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE 
 
 man returned to his usual occupations with as much appar- 
 ent peace at mind as if his only hope in the coming year 
 had been a fertile season and an abundant crop. 
 
 An event, however, took place in the mean time, which, 
 without the most remarkable prudence on the part of the 
 conspirators, would have destroyed their hopes forever. We 
 have already seen to what a degree of insolence Gessler had 
 carried his pride. It finally proved his ruin. 
 
 William Tell, a name which wiU ever be celebrated in the 
 history of Switzerland, had been admitted a member of the 
 patriotic band. 
 
 Happening one day to pass through Altorf, the sight of 
 the hat roused his indignation to such a pitch against the 
 governor that he not only refused obedience to his foolish 
 order, but treated the hat with contempt. 
 
 G«ssler was no sooner informed of what had passed than 
 he commanded the bold plebeian to be dragged before him, 
 and, giving way to his unbridled fury, decreed that as a 
 punishment he should, at the coming festival, either pierce 
 with an arrow an apple placed upon the head of his son, 
 a boy of five or six years old, or suffer immediate death. 
 
 So strange and inhuman a sentence was little calculated 
 either to soothe the minds of the discontented people or to 
 calm the anger of the offended patriot. For some moments 
 he hesitated ; but, confident in his own unerring aim, after 
 a little reflection he accepted the trial. To this, too, he 
 was doubtless in part prompted by the thought that a scene 
 of such wanton cruelly must stir the feelings of those who 
 would see it in such a way as to aid his secret plans. 
 
 On the appointed day Gessler appeared in the market 
 place at Altorf, seated in his chair of state and surrounded 
 by his bodyguard. His countenance bespoke the insolence 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 889 
 
 of triumph. With a savage smile he ordered the culprit to 
 be brought forward. Tell came with a resolute step. The 
 attentive crowd, who had been attracted from the remotest 
 valleys to the spot, trembled as he passed. He took his 
 post. The boy was stationed, by the governor's direction, 
 at a distance which appeared to him the most unfavor- 
 able to the archer's skill. Tell grasped his bow. Mute 
 attention prevailed. Every heart beat with interest and 
 anxiety. He drew the string ; the arrow flew ; the divided 
 apple fell. Repeated peals announced the joy of the spec- 
 tat ors, an d rebounded through the neighboring rocks. 
 
 The hero ran to his child, caught him in his arms, and 
 clasped him to his bosom. He gave way to his natural 
 feelings. Unable any longer to suppress the violence of 
 his emotions, he turned to the governor, and, drawing forth 
 another arrow, exclaimed, "Had my boy fallen, this was 
 destined for thee." At once a prey to disappointment, rage, 
 and shame, Gessler commanded his soldiers again to seize 
 the bold offender. The people interfered in vain. In vain 
 they resisted the guard. After a short conflict, Tell was 
 mastered ; and in order to secure him against any attempts 
 which might be made for his rescue, Gessler commanded 
 him to be taken to Kiissnach, a fortress on the opposite side 
 of the lake. Fearing, however, that the undeserved severity 
 of his fate might rouse pity in the bosoms of his officers, 
 the governor resolved to go with him in person, and em- 
 barked with his attendants in the same boat. 
 
 But scarcely v/ere they out of the reach of the shore, 
 when the clouds, which had been gathering round the sum- 
 mit of St. Gothard, and to which Gessler, blinded by passion, 
 had paid little attention, burst in a furious tempest. The 
 violence of the storm made return impossible, and the sur- 
 
890 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 rounding rocks, which rise almost perpendicularly from the 
 level of the water, rendered all attempts to land hopeless. 
 The watermen sank under the labor of the oar, and, unable 
 longer to contend against the fury of the winds, gave in, 
 and commended themselves to Providen'ce for protection. 
 In this fearful crisis some one of the passengers, recol 
 lecting that Tell had the reputation of being a skillful 
 pilot, suggested to the governor, as the only hope thai 
 was left, to prevail upon him to take charge of the vessel 
 and to exert his power to save them all. 
 
 Gessler caught with eagerness at the proposal. The 
 prisoner was unbound and placed at the helm. For some 
 time he struggled manfully against the storm, and took 
 advantage of his knowledge of the lake to weather its 
 fury, till, by degrees, he approached the bank -at a spot 
 where the mountains leave a small promontory for man to 
 save himself from the fury of the waves. The courage 
 of the passengers now revived. They already thought 
 themselves secure. 
 
 But as TeU approached the shore, having conducted 
 the bark to the spot he wished, he seized the rock with 
 one hand; with the other he pushed back the vessel, and 
 left the affrighted tyrant with his dismayed companions 
 in a situation little short of despair. The tempest, how- 
 ever, at length abated; with difficulty they gained the 
 shore. But the governor had escaped the waves only to 
 meet another fate. Tell, who had escaped, met him in 
 the road a little beyond Briinnen, and in an instant an 
 arrow laid him dead at his feet. 
 
 The news of this event ran like an electric spark 
 among the friends of liberty, and threatened to bring on 
 too quickly the movement planned by Fiirst and his asso- 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 291 
 
 H. EAULBACa. 
 
 TELL S FLIGHT. 
 
S92 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 ciates. But such was their prudence that the excitement 
 passed away and stratagem was used rather than force.- 
 
 It was an important object to get possession of the 
 strong castle of Rotzberg. Here dwelt a maiden beloved 
 by a Swiss youth named Wolfgang. She was persuaded 
 by her lover to admit him into her room at night by 
 means of a ladder let down from her window. He as- 
 cended, several of his companions followed, and the castle 
 was taken without bloodshed. 
 
 Early on the following morning a select party of the 
 brave inhabitants of Unterwalden met Landenberg as he 
 was going from the castle of Sarnen to the parish church, 
 to be present at the celebration of mass on New Year's 
 day. They were loaded with presents, which, according 
 to the custom of the times, were offered at this season 
 to men in power. 
 
 A troop of thirty or more lay in ambush near the walls, 
 ready to appear upon the first alarm. Delighted with the 
 liberality of the offering, which had been pui-posely made 
 larger than usual, the governoi invited them into the 
 castle. But no sooner had they gained admittance into the 
 court than the expected signal was given by a blast upon 
 a horn. The men without flew to the assistance of their 
 friends. They Seized upon the bridge and the magazine of 
 arms before the little garrison was prepared to resist. Terri- 
 fied by the suddenness of the attack, and ignorant of the 
 numbers by which they were assailed, they threw down their 
 swords and surrendered, upon the promise of their lives. 
 
 The patriots, who had now risen on all sides, were every- 
 where equally fortunate- In the course of one day, five 
 castles were taken and given to the flames eind with them 
 was every vestige of despotism wiped ouu 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 293 
 
 History shows few events more extraordinary than this. 
 The prisoners were treated with generosity, and, being led 
 to the frontiers, were released, upon a solemn promise that 
 they would never more pollute the land of freedom. In- 
 deed, except in the single instance of Gassier, who fell a 
 victim of his own rashness, not one drop of blood was shed. 
 
 The welcome news flew quickly from mountain to moun- 
 tain. Every goatherd at once threw aside his pipe and 
 crook, and armed in the common cause. Stauffacher, 
 Melchthal, Tell, and Walter Furst were received by their 
 rejoicing countrymen with every demonstration of gratitude 
 which the simplicity of rustic manners would allow. The 
 joy was universal. The wealthy farmer set wide his 
 hospitable door to his poorer neighbor, and amid the 
 festivity the names of their deliverers resounded with bless- 
 ings from every tongue. It was the triumph of innocence 
 over the unjust attempts of despotism. 
 
 CHAPEL OP TELL, LAKE LUCEKNK. 
 
394 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 XLVI. THE SABBATH. 
 
 By James Grahame (1765—1811), 
 
 HOW still the morning of the hallowed dayl 
 Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed 
 The plowboy's whistle and the milkmaid's song. 
 The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath 
 Or tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers, 
 That yestermorn bloomed waving in the breeze. 
 Sounds the most faint attract the ear, — the hum 
 Of early bee, the trickling of the dew. 
 The distant bleating midway up the hill. 
 Calmness seems throned on yon unmoving cloud. 
 To him who wanders o'er the upland leas 
 The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale; 
 And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark 
 Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook 
 Murmurs more gently down the deep-sunk glen; 
 While from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke 
 O'ermounts the mist, is heard at intervals 
 The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. 
 
 With dove-like wings Peace o'er yon village broods 
 The dizzying mill wheel rests ; the anvil's din 
 Hath ceased; all, all around is quietness. 
 Less fearful on this day, the limping hare 
 Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man. 
 Her deadliest foe. The toil-worn hoi-se, set free, 
 Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large ; 
 And, as his stiff unwieldy bulk he rolls, 
 His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray. 
 
THE SABBATH. 206 
 
 But chiefly man the day of rest enjoys. 
 Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail the poor man's day. 
 On other days the man of toil is doomed 
 To eat his joyless bread lonely, the ground 
 Both seat and board, screened from the winter's cold 
 And summer's heat by neighboring hedge or tree ; 
 But on this day, embosomed in his home, 
 He shares the frugal meal with those he loves ; 
 With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
 Of giving thanks to God, — not thanks of form, 
 A word and a grimace, but reverently, 
 With covered face and upward earnest eye. 
 
 Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail the poor man's day: 
 The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe 
 The morning air pure from the city's smoke j 
 While wandering slowly up the riverside. 
 He meditates on Him whose power he marks 
 In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough, 
 As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 
 Around the roots; and while he thus surveys 
 With elevated joy each rural charm, 
 He hopes — yet fears presumption in the hope — 
 To reach those realms where Sabbath never ends. 
 
 But now his steps a welcome sound recall; 
 Solemn the knell from yonder ancient pile 
 Fills all the air, inspiring joyful awe: 
 Slowly the throng moves o'er the tomb-paved ground; 
 The aged man, the bow^d down, the blind. 
 Led by the thoughtless boy, and he who breathes 
 With pain, and eyes the new-made grave, well pleased 
 These, mingled with the young, the gay, approach 
 The house of God, — these, spite of all their ills, 
 
296 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 A glow of gladness feel; with silent praise 
 
 They enter in; a placid stillness reigns, 
 
 Until the man of God, worthy the name, 
 
 Opens the book, and reverentially 
 
 The stated portion reads. A pause ensues. 
 
 The organ breathes its distant thunder-notes, 
 
 Then swells into a diapason full: 
 
 The people rising sing, " With harp, with harp. 
 
 And voice of psalms ; " harmoniously attuned 
 
 The various voices blend; the long-drawn aisles. 
 
 At every close, the lingering strain prolong. . . . 
 
 Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne 
 The Sabbath service of the shepherd boy I 
 In some lone glen, where every sound is lulled 
 To slumber save the tinkling of the rill. 
 Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcon's cry. 
 Stretched on the sward, he reads of Jesse's son; 
 Or sheds a tear o'er him to Egypt sold, 
 And wonders why he weeps; the volume closed. 
 With thyme-sprig laid between the leaves, he sings 
 The sacred lays, his weekly lesson conned 
 With meikle care beneath the lowly roof. 
 Where humble lore is learnt, where humble worth 
 Pines unrewarded by a thankless state. 
 Thus reading, hymning, all alone, unseen. 
 The shepherd boy the Sabbath holy keeps, 
 Till on the heights he marks the straggling bands 
 Returning homewards from the house of prayer. 
 In peace they home resort. O blissful days. 
 When all men worship God as conscience wills 1 
 Far other times our fathers' grandsires knew, — 
 A virtuous race to godliness devote. 
 
TO AUTUMN. 897 
 
 JLLVJI. TO AUTUMN. 
 
 By John Keats.* 
 (1795-1821.) 
 
 SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness I 
 Close bosom-friend of the maturing sunj 
 Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
 
 With fruit the vines that round the thatch eaves run: 
 To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees, 
 And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; 
 
 To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
 With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, 
 And still more, later flowers for the bees. 
 Until they think warm days will never cease, 
 
 For summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells. 
 
 Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 
 
 Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find 
 Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
 
 Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; 
 Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep. 
 
 Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook 
 Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers ; 
 
 1 John Keats was a noted English poet, a contemporary and com- 
 panion of Shelley and Leigh Hunt. " Endymion " was his most ambi- 
 tious and imaginative work. " Lamia," "The Eve of St. Agnes," and 
 other of his later poems show a finer touch, but everything he wrote 
 bears evidence of a rare poetic genius. Keats died at the youthful age 
 of 26. 
 
S98 
 
 STEPPING STONES TO LITERATURE. 
 
 And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 
 Steady thy laden head across a brook ; 
 Or by a cider-press, with patient look. 
 Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. 
 
 Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they? 
 
 Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, 
 While barrdd clouds bloom the soft-dying day. 
 
 And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 
 Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
 
 Among the river sallows, borne aloft 
 
 Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ; 
 And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; 
 
 Hedge crickets sing; and now, with treble soft, 
 
 The Redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, 
 And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. 
 
LEXICON. 
 
 A.-booii', aboTe. 
 Ad'dled, spoiled ; mnddled. 
 Ad'ver-sa-ry, enemy ; opponent. 
 Ag-ga-geer', an African animal hunter. 
 A-ghast', terrified ; amazed. 
 A-kimTjOj with hands on hips, and 
 
 elbows turned outward. 
 Al-leged' (al-ledjd'), said ; claimed. 
 Am-phi-the'a-ter, a circular bull INig; 
 
 or place, with rising sides all round. 
 An'oient (an'shent), a flag or ensig.i. 
 An-ni'hi-Iate, destroy utterly. 
 An-tip'a-thy, strong dislike. 
 Aph'i-des (af'i-dez), species of inset't. 
 Ap-pa-rl'tion, a startling sight or form. 
 Ap-pren'tloe, one who is legally bound 
 
 to serve another. 
 A-skanoe', sideways. 
 As-sev-er-a'tion, assertion. 
 Aa-sid'u-ous-ly, diligently. 
 As'sig-nats, currency of France during 
 
 the Kevolution. 
 As-suage' (as-swage'), soothe; allay. 
 A-thwarf , across. 
 Au'gur, a soothsayer or diviner; to 
 
 foretell. 
 Aus-pl'oious (-shus), prosperous. 
 Aus-ter'i-ty, sternness ; severity. 
 A-vaunt', begone; depart. 
 
 Bal'drio (bawl'dric), a broad belt. 
 
 Ba-rom'e-ter, an instrument which in- 
 dicates the prospective changes of 
 weather. 
 
 Be-queathed', left by will. 
 
 Birlde, fellow. 
 
 Bla'zonedi published far and wide. 
 
 Bourn (boom), bound ; limit. 
 Bout, contest ; round. 
 Brooch (broch), a breastpin. 
 Burrush, a tall species of rush 02 
 
 reed. 
 Buoy'ant (boy'ant), light ; vivacious. 
 Buoyed (boyd), kept afloat. 
 Burgh'er (burg'er), dweller in a burgh, 
 
 or borough. 
 
 Can'ker-ing, eating into ; corroding. 
 Ca-pa-bil'i-ties, abilities ; capacities. 
 Ca-pao'i-ty, ability of being or doing. 
 Cap'il-la-ry, having very small tubes. 
 Ca-priee' (ka-preea'), whim ; fancy. 
 Car-ron-ade', a short cannon. 
 Cham-paign', a level, open country. 
 Chiv'al-ry, spirit of knight-errantry. 
 Choir (quire), a company of singers. 
 C3ir-cum-spec'tion, looking around ; 
 
 care. 
 Cit'a-del, a stronghold. 
 Clay'more, a large sword used by Scotch 
 
 Highlanders. 
 Clem'en-cy, kindness; gentleness. 
 Co'ble, a small fishing boat. 
 Coc'oi, species of insect. 
 Co-los'sal, very large ; huge. 
 Com-mod'i-ty, article. 
 Com-mu'ni-ty, a body of people living 
 
 near together. 
 Com-pas'siou-ate, tender; merciful. 
 Com-pre-hen'sive-ness, extensiveness 
 
 of scope or understanding. 
 Com-pu-ta'tiou, reckoning ; calculation. 
 Con-fed'er-ate, banded together. 
 Con-jec'ture, surmise. 
 
 (299) 
 
300 
 
 LEXICON. 
 
 Con-nu'bi-al, pertaining to marriage. 
 
 Con-vulsed', shaken ; agitated greatly. 
 
 Coof, blockhead; coward. 
 
 Oor-rob'o-rate, confirm. 
 
 Corse, corpse ; dead body. 
 
 Cor-vette', a warship ranking next be- 
 low a frigate. 
 
 CoVert, a hiding place. 
 
 Cre-den'tials, that which gives title to 
 credit. 
 
 CreVioe, crack ; cleft. 
 
 Cri'sis, a decisive point of time. 
 
 Cro'mes, boon companions. 
 
 Crook, shepherd's long crooked staff. 
 
 Croupe, hinder part of a saddle. 
 
 Cul'pa-ble, deserving blame. 
 
 Ua-guer're-an (dargSr're-an), pertain- 
 ing to the daguerreotype. 
 
 De-cUv'i-ty, a steep slope. 
 
 De-orep'it, weak ; feeble. 
 
 De'-i-fied, changed into a god. 
 
 De-mesnes' (-meues'), houses and lands ; 
 proprietary estates. 
 
 Dem-on-atra'tlon, proof; show. 
 
 De-spond'en-oy, sadness ; despair. 
 
 Des'pot-iBm, cruel ruling ; tyranny. 
 
 Des-ti-na'tion, purpose ; design. 
 
 Di-a-pa'aon, harmony ; the entire com- 
 pass of musical tones. 
 
 Di-min'u-tive, very small. 
 
 Dis-af-fecfed, not pleased; alienated 
 in feeling. 
 
 Dis-pu-ta'tion, animated discussion. 
 
 Di-vest'ed, deprived. 
 
 Dom-i-neer'ing, overbearing. 
 
 Dom'i-nie, a schoolmaster. 
 
 Do'tard, an old fool; one in second 
 childhood. 
 
 Durst, dared. 
 
 Du'ties, a species of tax. 
 
 E-ly'sium (e-lizh'um), place of happi- 
 ness ; Paradise. 
 Em-bla'zoned, displayed conspicuously. 
 E-merg'iiig, coming out of. 
 Em-u-la'tion, strife to equal or excel. 
 
 En-oo'ini-um, high praise. 
 
 E'phah, a Hebrew measure of 2 pecks 
 
 and 5 quarts. 
 Ex-e-ou'tion, act of performing. 
 Ex-pos'tu-late, to reason earnestly ; 
 
 remonstrate. 
 
 Feigned (fand), pretended. 
 
 Pir'ma-ment, the sky. 
 
 Flag'on, a liquor vessel with a narrow 
 
 mouth. 
 Flue-tu-a'tion, wavering ; unsteadiness. 
 Fran'tic, wild with pain or anger. 
 Fron-tiers', boundaries. 
 Fru'gal, plain ; simple. 
 Fu'gi-tive, one fleeing from pursuit. 
 
 Ganiard (gal'yard), a lively dance. 
 
 Gal-li-gaslons, loose leather breeches. 
 
 Gam'bol, sport. 
 
 Gen-er-a'tion, the average life of man, 
 
 Glebe, soil. 
 
 Gnash, to grind the teeth together. 
 
 Gowd, gold. 
 
 Gree, palm ; supremacy. 
 
 Gro-tesque', very odd ; ludicrous. 
 
 Guin'ea (gin'ny), an English coin of 
 
 21 shillings. 
 Gy-ra'tion, act of whirling around. 
 
 Hag, quagmire ; swamp. 
 Har'ass, fatigue ; annoy. 
 Har'bin-ger, messenger ; precursor. 
 HaVoe, ruin ; waste. 
 He-red'i-ta-ry, inherited. 
 Her'mit-age, a secluded dwelling. 
 Hod'den-gray, coarse, undyed cloth. 
 Hol'ster, leather case for a pistol. 
 Hor'rent, bristling with points. 
 Hos'pi-ta-ble, kindly. 
 House'-vrtf-er-y, female domestic man- 
 agement. 
 
 H-Iu'sion, a false show ; deception. 
 Im-bru'ing, soaking; drenching in 
 
 blood. 
 Im'ml-nent, near at hand. 
 Im-pe'ri-ous, lordly ; commanding. 
 
LEXICON. 
 
 301 
 
 Im-pel/u-ouB, with violeuce ; hotheaded. 
 
 Im-plio'it-ly, without reserve. 
 
 Im-pound'ed, held in keeping. 
 
 Im-preg'na-ble, that^ cannot be taken ; 
 unconquerable. 
 
 Im-pu'ni-ty, without harm. 
 
 In-ac-ces'd-ble, that cannot be leached. 
 
 In-an'l-mate, lifeless 
 
 In-oenaed', angry. 
 
 In-olem'ent, unpleasant; severe. 
 
 In-oom-pre-hen'si-ble, not to be under- 
 stood. 
 
 In-cre-duli-ty, unbelief. 
 
 In-dis-orS'tion, imprudent behavior. 
 
 In-ev'it-arbly, without escape ; certainly. 
 
 In-ex'o-ra-ble, determined ; unyielding. 
 
 In-fat'u-a^ted, possessed by foolish 
 passion. 
 
 In-sa'tiarble (iu-sa'sha-b'l), that cannot 
 be satisfied. 
 
 In-su'per-a-ble, that cannot be over- 
 come. 
 
 In-sur'gent, in opposition; rebellious. 
 
 In-sur.j'eo'tion, a rising against gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 In-ter-ne'oine, with mutual slaughter. 
 
 In-tre-pid'i-ty, fearless bravery. 
 
 In-ured', accustomed by use ; hardened. 
 
 In'ven-to-ry, list ; schedule. 
 
 In- vul'ner-a-ble, that cannot be 
 wounded. 
 
 I-tin'er-ant, wandering. 
 
 Jar'gon, unintelligible language. 
 Jer'kin, a short coat or jacket. 
 Jun'gle, a dense growth of trees and 
 
 tangled shrubs. 
 Jun'to, a secret council. 
 
 Lar'vse, the early, immature forms of 
 
 insects. 
 Lee'ward, in the direction toward which 
 
 the wind blows, 
 lig'a-tures, bands; bandages. 
 Iiim'pet, a kind of shellfish. 
 Lia'e-al, in a direct line ; hereditary. 
 Liv'id, grayish blue in coloi. 
 Ziu'cid, plain ; clear. 
 
 Mag-a-zine' (-zeen'), storehouse. 
 Mag-nan'i-mous, great minded. 
 Ma/-lig'nant, of very wicked intent. 
 Mal'le-a-ble, capable of being shaped 
 
 by rolling or hammering. 
 Man'na, miraculous food. 
 Maytial (-shall, warlike. 
 Maun'na fa', may not get. 
 Me-an'der-ing, going in a crooked 
 
 course. 
 Mei'kle (mi'kel), mickle; much, 
 llen'di-oant, beggar. 
 Met-a-mor'phosed, changed. 
 Me-trop'o-lis, the largest city. 
 Mi-gra'tion, act of moving to a new 
 
 place. 
 Minl-mize, to make the smallest jjos- 
 
 sible. 
 Min'ster, church. 
 Mir'a-cle, a supernatural event. 
 Mis'cre-aiit, wretch. 
 Moat, a deep ditch around a fort or 
 
 castle. 
 Mo-men'tous, most important. 
 Myr'mi-dons, a fierce tribe of soldiers 
 
 in the Trojan War; devoted followers. 
 
 Neap, low tide. 
 
 Neo'ro-man-cer, one who practices 
 
 magic arts. 
 Ne're-id, a sea nymph. 
 Noc-tur'nal, pertaining to night. 
 Nup'tiaJs, wedding ceremonies 
 
 Ob'du-rate, hard-hearted ; stubhorh. 
 Ob-sou'ri-ty, being hidden ; darkness 
 Ob'se-quies, funeral ceremonies. 
 Or'a-cle, one whose answers are of so 
 
 preme authority. 
 OVer-ture, offer ; in music, the intra 
 
 ductory part of a composition. 
 
 Pal-i-sa'does, fences made of sharp 
 
 stakes, for defense. 
 Par'tial (-shal), in part; inclining to 
 
 f.ivor. 
 
SOS 
 
 LEXICON. 
 
 Pat-ri-mo'ni-al, pertaining to ancestral 
 inheritance. 
 
 Fen'sive, thonghtful ; sad. 
 
 Per'i-win-kle, a small shellfish. 
 
 Per-tai-nao'i-ty, persistency ; persever- 
 ance. 
 
 Pes'ti-lent, full of harm. 
 
 Pha'lanx (fa'lanx), a body of troops. 
 
 Fhan'tom (fan'tom), an airy spirit; a 
 specter. 
 
 Phlegm (flSm), dullness. 
 
 Pin'na-cles, pointed tops of spires. 
 
 Pipe, a shepherd's musical instrument. 
 
 Pique (peek), vexation; resentment. 
 
 Ple-be'ian (-yan), of common origin. 
 
 Pli'a-ble, easily turned or bent. 
 
 Pock'et per-speo'tive, a spyglass. 
 
 Pol-lute', stain ; defile. 
 
 Fort, the left side of a ship. 
 
 Fos-ter'i-ty, offspring ; descendants. 
 
 Fos'tem, a small gate or door. 
 
 Pre-oau'tion, extreme care. 
 
 FTe-cip-i-ta'tion, haste ; headlong ac- 
 tion. 
 
 Pre-dic'a-ment, fix ; situation. 
 
 Pre-med'i-ta-tion, forethought. 
 
 Pre-pos'i-tor, monitor. 
 
 Fre-sump'tu-ous, rash ; taking undue 
 liberty. 
 
 Fro-dl'gious, very great ; wonderful. 
 
 Fro-faned', treated irreverently; pol- 
 luted. 
 
 Fro-jeofile, a missile hurled with force. 
 
 Prom'on-to-ry, a high cape. 
 
 Prop'a-gate, produce; increase. 
 
 Pro-pli6t'ic, foretelling events. 
 
 Prow'ess, skill ; military valor. 
 
 Pu-is'sant, powerful. 
 
 Punt, in football, the act of kicking the 
 ball dropped from the hands. 
 
 Pu'pse, insects in the adult stage. 
 
 Quiv'er-ing, trembling ; quaking. 
 
 Rap'tur-ouB, full of joy ; ecstatic 
 Ee-it'er-a-ted, repeated. 
 Bes-to-ra'tion, act of restoring. 
 
 Ret'i-nue, train of attendants. 
 Eoys'ters, blustering fellows. 
 Eu'bi-ound, red ; ruddy. 
 Eu-ml-na'tion, deep thought. 
 
 Sap'phire (saf'fire), a blue precious 
 
 stone. 
 Scab'bard, sheath for a sword. 
 Scaur (skawr), a steep bank or rock. 
 Sqim'I-ter, a sharp curved saber. 
 Scythe, an implement for mowing. 
 Sep'ul-eher, a tomb. 
 Serv'I-tor, a servant. 
 Shag'ged, rough. 
 Shrew, a vexatious woman. 
 Sig'net, a seal. 
 Sl-mil'i-tude, likeness. 
 Sin'ew, tendon ; muscle. 
 Siu'is-ter, evil ; disastrous. 
 Slm'oea (slu'ces), artificial passages for 
 
 water. 
 Sole, the bottom part, especijdly of the 
 
 foot. 
 Sooth'leas, untruthfol. 
 Sop-o-rif 'er-ous, causing sleep. 
 Soused, pounced ; plunged in water. 
 Sprite, a spirit. 
 Spume, foam. 
 Stalk'ing, taking game by stealthy 
 
 approach. 
 Stang, a rod or perch. 
 Ster'ile, barren ; that cannot reproduce. 
 Stocks, sheaves. 
 Strat'a-gem, an artifice in war ; secret 
 
 plot. 
 Sub'al-dies, government grants ; volun- 
 tary aids. 
 Suit'or, one who sues ; a petitioner or 
 
 lover. 
 Sup'ple, ea.sily bent ; yielding. 
 Sup'pli-cant, a petitioner ; one asking 
 
 for favors. 
 Sur'feit, an over-supply. 
 Swarth'y, dark complexion ; tawny. 
 
 Tar'tan, a Scotch plaid cloth. 
 Ten'ets, beliefs ; doetrines. 
 Ter'mapgant, a scolding woman. 
 
LEXICON. 
 
 SOS 
 
 Tex'ture, *oven fabric. 
 
 Thrall, bondage ; servitude. 
 
 Tin'sel, shining material for ornament j 
 gaudy. 
 
 Ti-tan'io, tremendous ; gigantic. 
 
 To'co, punishment. 
 
 Tor'por, state of quiet or sleep. 
 
 Tran-quil'li-ty, calm ; peaeef ulness. 
 
 Tran'sept, that part of a church be- 
 tween the nave and the choir. 
 
 Trans-flg'ure, change ; transform. 
 
 Trench'er, a large wooden platter. 
 
 Trough (trOfi), a long hollow vessel for 
 holding water ; a depression. 
 
 Tryst'ing, an appointment; a meet- 
 ing. 
 
 Tyr'an-nous, unjustly severe. 
 
 U-biq'ui-ty, being everywhere at the 
 
 same time. 
 Un-bri'dled, uot restrained ; violent. 
 Un-oouth' (-kooth), awkward ; boorish. 
 tjno'tu-ous, oily ; suave in manner. 
 
 XJ-nl-ver'sal, unlimited in extent. 
 Uu-sa'vory, unpleasant to the taste or 
 smell. 
 
 Vag'a-bond, one who wanders ; a tramp. 
 Van'guard, the troops in the front 
 
 rank. 
 Ves'tlge, trace ; sign. 
 Vl'oious-ly (vish'us-ly), wickedly. 
 Vig'il (vij'il), watch ; wakefulness. 
 Vi-ra'go, a turbulent woman ;" a vixen. 
 Vis'age (viz'aj), face; countenance. 
 Vo-lup'tu-ous, pleasure loving; sen 
 
 sual. 
 Vo-ra'oious (-shus), greedy in eating, 
 
 ■Ween, think ; imagine. 
 ■Wis, think ; imagine. 
 
 Yeo'man (yo'man), a bodyguard, 
 
 Zeph'yrs, gentle breeds, 
 Zones, belts. 
 
KEY TO PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 From the Cbnturv Cyclopedia of Names, whose pronunciation of proper nouns is 
 followed in nearly all cases. 
 
 as in fat, man. 
 as in fate, mane. 
 as in far, father, 
 as in fall, talk, 
 as in ask, fast, 
 as in met, pen. 
 as in mete, meet, 
 as in her, fern, 
 as in pin, it. 
 as in pine, fight, 
 as in not, frog, 
 as in note, poke, 
 as in move, spoon, 
 as in nor, song, 
 as in tub, son. 
 as in mute, acute, 
 German ii, French u. 
 
 oi as in oil, joint. 
 
 ou as in pound, proud. 
 
 A single dot under a vowel in 
 an unaccented syllable indicates 
 its abbreviation and lightening, 
 without absolute loss of its dis- 
 tinctive quality. Thus : 
 
 a as in prelate. 
 
 e as in ablegate. 
 
 as in abrogate, eulogy. 
 
 u as in singular. 
 
 A double dot under a vowel in 
 an unaccented syllable indicates 
 that, even in the mouths of the 
 best speakers, its sound is vari- 
 able to, and in ordinary utter- 
 ance actually becomes, the short 
 
 u-sonnd (of but, pure, ete.l 
 Thus: 
 
 a as in errant, 
 e as in prudent, 
 o as in valor, actor, 
 a as in Persia. 
 
 A mark (") under the con- 
 sonants, t, 6, mdicater that they 
 in like manner are variable to 
 ch, sh. Thus : 
 
 J as in nature. 
 
 g as in leisure. 
 
 ch as in German ach. 
 
 n French nasaliziifg n, as 
 
 in ion, en. 
 th as in thin. 
 
 A KEADER FOE SIXTH GEADES. 
 
 .^neas E-nE'as 
 Agamemnon 
 
 Ag-a-mem'non 
 Aix Aks 
 
 Alcinous Al-siu'o-us 
 Amphinumous 
 
 Am-fln'o-mus 
 Anchises An-kl'sez 
 Antinous An-tin'O-us 
 Aroesius Ar-sS'shi-us 
 Arretium Ar-rs'shi-um 
 Ascanlus As-ka'ni-us 
 Athene A-th5'n5 
 
 Boisberthelot 
 
 BwS-bert-lS' 
 
 Calypso Ka-lip's5 
 Circe Ser'sS 
 
 Clusium K15'shi-um 
 Colchis Kol'kis 
 Comitium KS-mish'i-um 
 Creusa KrS-il'sa 
 Orustumerium 
 
 Krus-tfl-mE'ri-um 
 CuUoden Ku-15'den 
 Curiatii Kil-ri-5'shi-r 
 
 Dodona D0-d5'na 
 
 Echetus Ek'5-tus 
 Btruria E-tro'ri-a 
 
 Eumseus U-me'us 
 Eurymachus U-rim'a-kus 
 Eurynomous U-rin'o-mus 
 
 Falerii 
 
 Fa-l5'ri-I 
 
 Qlenullen Grlen-ul'in 
 Idomeneus I-dom'e-nils 
 Janiculum Ja-nik'u-lum 
 
 Laertes 
 Liodes 
 Lochiel 
 Lucerne 
 
 Mamilius 
 Melchthal 
 Menelaus 
 
 Nausioaa 
 
 Nequinum 
 
 Numicius 
 
 La-er'tez 
 Lr-o'dEz 
 Locli-El' 
 LQ-sern' 
 
 Ma-mil'i-us 
 
 Melch'tal 
 
 Men-5-la'us 
 
 NS-sik'a-a 
 
 NE-qui'num 
 
 Nil-mish'i-us 
 
 Odysseus O-dis'us 
 Odyssey Od'i-si 
 Ostia Os'ti-£t 
 
 Palatinus Pal-a-tl'nus 
 Penelope PB-nel'5-pe 
 Polybius Po-lib'i-us 
 Polycthorides 
 
 Pol-ik-thSr'i-dEz 
 Porsena Por'se-na 
 Proculus Prok'u-liis 
 
 Quirinus Kwi-rl'nus 
 
 Bouget de Lisle 
 
 R6-zha'de-lEl 
 
 Stauffacher Stouf'fach-er 
 
 Tarpeia Tar-pE'ya 
 Tatius Ta'shi-us 
 
 Telemachiis Te-lem'a-kus 
 Theoclymenous 
 
 ThE-0-klim'e-tiiis 
 Tliesprotia Thes-pr5'Ji-a 
 Tiresias Ti-rE'si-as' 
 
 Ulysses U-lis'Ez 
 
 Vieuville Vye-vEl 
 Volsinium' Vol-sin'i-um 
 
iiil 
 
 ■11