SARGENT'S STANDARD SERIES.-No. 4.
THE
STAND IE D
FOURTH READER
FOR
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SCHOOLS;
CONTAINING
A THOROUGH COURSE OP PRELIMINARY EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION,
PRONUNCIATION, ACCENT, &c.; NUMEROUS EXERCISES IN
READING; A NEW SYSTEM OF REFERENCES;
J^TD
A COPIOUS EXPLANATORY INDEX.
BY
EPES SARGENT/ :
AUTHOR OF "THE STANDARD SPEAKER," ETC.,
MACON, GA.:
J. W. BURKE.
1861.
low Ready.
SARGENT'S COMPLETE SERIES OF SCHOOL READERS.
The Standard Fifth, or First Class ReabbB;
The Standard Fourth Reader.
The Standard Third Reader.
The Standard Second Reader. (Illustrated)
The Standard First Reader. (Illustrated).
Also Ready:
Sargent's Six Primary School Charts.
These Charts are twenty-two inches by thirty in size ; got up in a new and
attractive style, with large type, for beginners in reading, &o.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-five nj
Epes Saroent, in the Clerk's Office of lie District Court of the United States, U>r the
District of Massachusetts.
83* Many if the single pieces m this collection are protected by the oopyiigbt
STiaioTipas at
HOBABT» BOBBISH,
New Bnstanil Type and Stertotypo tvaaden,
BOSTON.
PRINTED BY B. M. EDWARDS.
PREFACE.
Little space has been given in this volume to matter of
a speculative character in regard to the art of reading. The
best elocutionists are so much at variance as to the feasibility
or value of rules for the government of the voice, that no
system, based upon such rules, can have a claim to scientific
precision, or be much more than a reflex of individual tastes
and preferences. As such, a system may perhaps be entitled
to consideration, but no teacher, who has himself given
much attention to the subject of elocution, can receive it as
authoritative, or can wish that it should be so received by
his pupils.
Modes of delivery must inevitably vary with the suscep¬
tibility of the reader to imaginative impulses, and with the
nature of his appreciation of what he reads. To prescribe
rules for what, in the nature of things, must be governed by
the answering emotion of the moment and by a sympathiz¬
ing intelligence, may continue to be attempted, but no pos¬
itive system is likely to be the result. Language cannot be
so labelled and marked that its delivery can be taught by
any scheme of notation. Emotional expression cannot be
gauged and regulated by any elocutionary law; and, though
there has been no lack of lawgivers, their jurisdiction has
never extended far enough to make them an acknowledged
tribunal in the republic of letters and art. Mr. Kean does
IV
PREFACE
not bow to the law laid down by Mr. Kemble or Mr. Mac*
ready; Mr. Sheridan differs from Mr. Walker, and Mr
Knowles dissents from them both.
The important step, I believe, in regard to practice in
expressive reading, is to set before the pupil such exercises
as may sufficiently engage his interest and be penetrable to
his understanding. An indifferent, unsympathizing habit of
delivery is often fixed upon him, solely by accustoming him
to read what is either repulsive to his taste or above his
comprehension. As well might we put him to the task of
reading backwards, as of reading what is too dull or diffi¬
cult to kindle his attention or awaken his enthusiasm.
Beading backwards is not an unprofitable exercise, when the
object is to limit his attention to the proper enunciation of
words isolated from their sense; but when we would have
him unite an expressive delivery to a good articulation, we
must give him, for vocal interpretation, such matter as he
can easily understand.
Under the influence of these views, it has been my en¬
deavor, in this volume, to graduate the exercises carefully to
the taste and comprehension of those for whom the work is
designed; and this without falling below a just literary
standard. Let the youthful reader be assured, however,
that the simplest exercise may often more truly task and
test the powers of an accomplished reader, than an exercise
the sense of which lies too deep for the ready apprehension
of a common audience. A simple hymn, like Heber'a
" Early Piety," requires more skill for its adequate delivery
than many a high-sounding oration or martial ode.
The introductory portion of this volume, forming Part
Eirst, is almost wholly of a practical character. Such rules
only have been introduced as the highest authorities have
established, and the best usage has accepted. Pronuncia¬
tion, it is true, must always be to a certain extent arbitrary
PREFACE.
but there is still a large class of words in regard to which
tiie decisions are almost final. In cases where these decisions
conflict, the fact has been fairly stated, so that teachers may
choose the authority they prefer.
The outline of a thorough system of drilling exercises in
the elementary sounds is laid down on pages 46, 47, with
such directions that .the pupil can easily fill up the outline
on the slate or black-board. In addition to this, a series of
exercises in selected words (page 34) is given, which will
be found of great service in acquainting the pupil with the
many and perplexing equivalents of the elementary vowel
sounds, and with the frequent recurrence of the same sound
represented by different letters and combinations. In pre¬
paring these exercises, I have been especially indebted to
Mr. B. H. Smart, the veteran English lexicographer, for
valuable suggestions, as well as for lists of representative
words. The difficulties in pronunciation, which a pupil
might not learn in going over a wide surface of ordinary
reading, are here summed up in a few pages, the mastery
of which will greatly accelerate his progress to the attain¬
ment of an accurate and discriminating style.
The system of references adopted in the Eirst-Class
Standard Reader, and which has been highly approved by
experienced teachers, is continued in this work; and a mode
of reference by Italics to Faults in Articulation has been
added, which will be found as simple as it is convenient.
The practice of enumerating such faults at the end of every
reading-lesson leads to much unnecessary repetition and
waste of room. It is believed that a more effectual and
comprel tensive process has been here adopted in collecting
these faults in a body (page 53), arranged in alphabetical
order, and referring to them in the reading exercises in the
manner described on page 77.
The Explanatory Index, which is in part a vocabulary
1*
n
PBEIAOB.
of the more difficult words in the volume, is not offered as a
substitute for that indispensable auxiliary in the school¬
room, a Dictionary, but is presented and referred to for the
very purpose of developing and stimulating a taste for con¬
sulting the Dictionary, and for inquiring into the derivation
and pronunciation of doubtful words.
The practice of appending a string gf questions to every
reading exercise is regarded as superfluous or impertinent
by so many judicious teachers, that the feature has been not
reluctantly omitted from this work. Some one has truly
remarked that teachers of even ordinary skill require no
printed set of questions for their guidance; they are able to
construct a thousand varied questions out of every lesson
that passes through their hands, and they have only to
guard against the error of allowing their zeal to carry them
away to subjects irrelevant to the lessons before them.
The most scrupulous care has been observed in admitting
nothing of a questionable character, in either a moral or
literary respect, into this volume. The " Standard Fourth
Reader " is submitted with the assurance that should it not
be found to meet the wants of teachers, it will not be
through the failure on the part of the author of a very
thorough inquiry into those wants, or of a patient exam¬
ination of all the works, throwing light upon his labors,
which both the Old World and the New have produced.
CONTENTS.
The names of authors and subjects, alphabetically art tinged, mil be found
embraced in the Explanatory Index at the end of the volume. For an explanation
of the marks of reference in Parts I. and II., seepages 76, 77.
Where the names of authors are Italicized in the following Table, or at the end
of pieces in Part II., it is intended to indicate that all such pieces have been trans¬
lated, abridged or altered, expressly for this work.
PART I.
PAGE.
Lesson I. Marks and Signs in Beading, 13
" II. Elementary Sounds, .,..17
" " Table of Elementary Sounds, 18
" « Compound Vowel Sounds, ..18
" " Compound Consonant Sounds, 18
" " Modified Vowel Sounds, 19
" III. Sounds of the Vowels, 20
" TV. Diphthongs and Triphthongs, 23
" V. Sounds of the Consonants, 26
" VI. Accent, Syllabication, etc., 29
«* " Table of Words with Varying Accents, 29
*' VII. Articulation, Rules for Exercise, 31
" " Exercises on the Elementary Sounds, 34
« « Exercises on the Compound Sounds, 43
" VIII. Modified Vowel Sounds, Silent Vowels, etc., 44
* IX. Simple Consonant Sounds and Combinations, 46
" " Exercises on Combinations, ... 47.48
* " Combinations of Consonants, 48, 49
" " Aspirate Consonant Sounds, .50
•* «« Vocal Consonant Sounds 50
** " Exercises in Consonant Sounds, 60, 51
" " Exercises in Accent, .........51
" X. Faults, in Articulation, .'. .....63
" XI. Pitch, Monotone, the Parenthesis, . ......... .60
«« XII. Inflection,
" XIII. Emphasis, Force, Pause, ....64
" XIV. Metrical Language, Inversion, Ellipsis, ......•••67
Examples of Low Pitch,
Tin
CONTENTS.
pa cm
Examples of Middle Pitch, . . 6>
High Pitoh 70
Transition, .....71
Monotone, 71
Parenthesis, 71
Inflection, *73
Emphasis, Pause, 74
Eorce, 75
To Teaohers, 76
PART II.
EXERCISES IN READING.
PIECES IN PROSE.
exbbci3e.
tasl.
1. The Three Readers,
. Mme. Vinet,
. 77
2. On Living Well and Long,
. From the German,
. 80
3. Select Sentences,
6. Presence of Mind,
, Chambers, ...
7. Was it Right ?
. Mme. Guizot,. .
9. A Chapter of Advice
. Bruce,
. 97
11. Not Afraid to be Laughed At,
. Osborne, ....
12. The Lady who Disputed on Trifles, ....
. Miss Edgeworth,
. 103
13. Abandonment of the Aged among Indians,
15. Scriptural Proverbs,
17. Socrates,
. Anon., .....
19 Overcome Evil with Good,
. Anon., . .
114
20, Vivia Perpetua,
. Compilation, . .
.116
21 Receive All as for your Good .
25 England under Canute,
. Dickens, ....
. 123
27 Devotional Thoughts on Spring, .....
. From the German,
. 127
28 An Incident at Sea,
. Anon., . ...
29 Select Sentences,
. Compilation, . .
. 130
31 Bountiful Design of Creation,
. Paley, . . . .
. 133
32. Consider Beth Sides, ..........
. Beaumont, . . .
33. Home,
. Compilation, . .
. 135
34. A Hebrew Legend,
. Anon.,
37. Appeal to the Mother Country, 1775, . . .
38. Poor Richard's Sayings,
. Dr. Franklin, .
. 142
. Lamartine, ...
Bancroft, . . .
. 152
CONTENTS.
■uracis*. PAGE.
48. Volney Bekner, Part I.f Masson» . . . « „ , 156
49. Volney Bekner, Part II., ......... Masson, . ..... 157
60. The Lesson of the Seasons, Compilation . . 159
51. Anecdote of Sir M. Hale, Anon., 162
54. Too Late to Disparage America, North British Review, 166
58. The History of Prince Arthur, Dickens, 176
60. Miscellaneous Extracts from Washington's
Writings, 130
64. Life at Sea, Ikying, ..... 185
66. On Puns, Sydney Smith, . . . 189
67. The Maid of Orleans, .......... From the French, . . 190
71. A Pleasant Surprise, From the German, . 199
72. Falsehoods of Exaggeration, ....... Chambers, 200
75 The Destiny of Man, Massillon, 206
76 Conquering with Kindness, ........ Anon., ...... 207-
79. All His Works Praise Him, From the German, . . 210
81. Scenery of the Lower Mississippi, Hamilton, 213
82. Remarkable Story of an Albatross, .... Compilation, .... 216
84. The Infinitude of Creation, Dick, 219
86. The Man in the Bell, Blackwood's Mag., , . 224
90. The Consummate Glory of Washington, . . Brougham, .... 228
92. The Dream of Socrates, Krummacher, .... 230
94. Duties of an American Citizen, Webster, 232
95. The Merry Monarch, Dickens, 233
97. The Future of America, Webster, ..... 236
102. Confessions of a Bashful Man, Part I., . . Anon., 244
103. Confessions of a Bashful Man, Part II., . . Anon., 246
105. The Falls of Niagara in Winter, Alexander, .... 249
106. The Bell of Safety, Osborne, 251
108. Against the American War, Chatham, 253
112. Dufayel's Adventure in the Well, Part I., . From the French, . . 258
113. Dufavel's Adventure in the Well, Part II., . From the French, . . 260
114. On Objections to Reform, Sydney Smith, ... 262
115. The Grain of Seed, Krummacher, .... 263
116. Our Obligation to Live, Rousseau, ..... 264
118. The Parts of Speech, ' Bossut,. ..... .266
119. The Rothschilds, Anon 268
121. Words and Acts, Demosthenes, ... 271
123. Miscellaneous Extracts.
1. Wm. Penn.— 2. Sir W. Temple. — 3. Dr. Johnson.—4.
Anon. — 5. Anon. — 6. Baxter. — 7. Curran. — 8. Anon.—9.
Carlyle. — 10. Abernethy.—11. Dr. Brigham. —12. Chambers.
— 13. Jefferson. — 14. Anon., 274
124. Lokman, . Aikin, ..... .277
126. A Genuine Hero, Chambers, 279
128. Importance of Self-Discipline, Webster, ......284
X
CONTENTS.
PAGl
. 285
287
291
293
296
303
305
■iihoisi.
129 War London Spectator,
130. On the Character of Napoleon Bonaparte, . R. W. Emerson,
133. Interview of Rasselas, his Sister Nekayah,
and Imlac, with the Hermit, Johnson,
134. Value of a Good Character, London Quar. Rev.,
136. False Notions in Regard to Genius, .... Dewey, . .
137 Industry, Barrow, 296
141. The Poor Weep Unheeded, Goldsmith, .
143 The Two Ways, Krummacher,
144. Miscellaneous Extracts.
1. The Effect of Unbelief — Anon. 2. Youthful Neglect —
Scott. 3. Education — Carlyle. 4. Industry—Zimmerman.
5. Literary Vanity — Edinburgh Review. 6. The Mind is its
own Place — Anon. 7. The French Revolution and the
American—Everett. 8. Duty — Anon. 9. Little Things —
Anon. 10. Veracity a Moral Law—■ Wayland, 306
147. It is Impossible .Williams, 311
160. A Common Marvel, Everett, 315
151. Return of British Fugitives, . P. Henry, 318
153. Marius to the Romans, Sallust, 319
DIALOGUES IN PROSE.
8. The Tutor and his Pupils, Aikin, . . .
41. Queen Isabella's Resolve, Mme. Vinet,
42. The Return of Columbus, Mme. Vinet,
56. Seeking and Finding, Osborne, . .
69. The Petulant Man, Osborne, . .
74. How to Tell Bad News, Anon., . . .
80. Peter the Great and the Deserter, Anon., . . ..
138. Peter the Great and the Deserter, Part II., . Anon., .
148. Rolla and the Sentinel, Kotzebue, .
PIECES IN TERSE.
92
145
148
168
194
, 205
, 211
. 297
313
4. The Press,
. 84
5. The Contented Man, ....
10 Trust Not to Appearances, .
98
14. The Ant and Glow-worm, . .
. 107
18. The Old Man's Comforts, . .
113
22 Rain in Summer,
120
23 The Butterfly's Ball, ....
. 121
26 New Year's Eve,
. 125
30, The Two Returned Tourists, .
J3. Where is the Sea ?
. 136
85. The Place to Die,
. 137
36. Short Poetical Extracts.
1. Love of Country — Scott.
2. The Anoien Heroes of Greeoe
CONTENTS.
XI
— Byron.. 3 Diversities of Judgment -
-Pope. 4. Inward
Grief— Shakspeare. 5. The Virtuous Lady in Peril — Milton.
6. Wolsey's Advice to Cromwell -
— Shakspeare. 7. Against
Indifference to Nature's Charms —
Beattie. 8. Omnipresence
of the Deity — Thomson
39 False Deference to Wealth,
Khemnitzer,....
40. To the Rainbow
Campbell, ....
44, The Priest and the Mulberry-tree, .
. .
. Anon.,
. 151
45 All the Day Idle,
Anon.,
47. The Contrast,
. Plummer, ....
50. All Seasons Please,
. Grahame, ....
50. These as They Change,
Thomson
52. The Cottager and his Landlord, . .
. CoWPER,
53. From an Epistle to J. Hill, ....
. CoWPER, .....
55. Llewellyn and his Dog
. Spencer
67. The Seventh Plague of Egypt, . .
. Croly,
59. Dangerous Effects of Fancy, ...
. Scott,
61. The Bitter Gourd,
. Leigh Hunt, . . .
. 182
62. Jaffar: an Eastern Tradition, . . .
. Leigh Hunt, . . .
. 183
63. A Boat-race and Wreck,
. C'rabbe,
. 193
70. Woodhull,
. 198
73. Short Poetical Extracts.
1. Time not to he Recalled. 2.
Reasons for Humility —
Beattie. 3. The Penalty of Eminence —
Byron. 4. Benevo-
lence — Beattie 5 Solitude — Byron.
6. Humble and Un-
noticed Virtue — Hannah More. 7
Farewell — Barton, . . .
.202
77. Horatius Offers to Defend the Bridge
. Macaulay, ....
78. Good Advice
Horace Smith,...
. 209
86. The Bird-catcher, . . I. , . .
. Blanchard, ....
. Mrs. Hemans, . .
.227
89. Haste Not — Rest Not, J
. Goethe, .....
.228
91. The Retort, . .
. Anon.,
93. The Juvenile Culprit,
. Household Words, .
.231
96. The Modern Puffing System, . . .
. • .
. Moore,
98. Verses on the Prospect of Planting Arts
and Learning in America, . . .
. Berkeley, . . ,
. 238
104. Helps to Read, .........
. Byrom,
107. The Pen
. Croly, ......
, 09. Short Poetical Extracts.
1. Immortality of the Soul — Beattie. 2. Sonnet — Anon. 3.
Description of Lord Chatham— Cotoper. 4. The Soul — Jo*.
Montgomery. 5. Chamouni and Mont Blanc — Coleridge. 6.
Hallowed Ground— Campbell, * 255
110 The Dying Christian to his Soul, ..... Pope, . .... 257
111. Polyoarp, 268
XII
CONTENTS.
buboisi.
.aos.
117 The Death of the High tec as,
Anon.,. . . . . ,
. 265
120. Time and Beauty,
London Lit. Gaz, .
. 270
122. The Miser Fitly Punished,
Osborne,
. 272
125. Welcome to the Bhine,
Mbs. Hemans, . .
. 278
131. Hope — Faith — Love,
From the German,
. 290
132. Elijah's Interview,
135. Early Piety,
Heber, .....
295
139 Childhood and his Visitors,
Anon.,
. 301
140 The Christian Mariner^ .
Mrs. Southet, . .
. 302
142. The Parrot,
Campbell, ....
. 304
145.- Hannibal's Oath,
Miss Landon, . .
.310
146. Eloquence of Creation,
Psalms,
.310
149. Occasion,
From the Italian,
.314
152. The Drum, ...............
. 318
DIALOGUES IN VERSE.
16. A Pastoral Hymn,
Mrs. Barbauld, .
. 110
24. St. Philip Neri and the Touth, ......
Byrom,
. 122
65. The Besolve of Begulus,
Original, .....
83. The Conspiracy against Caesar,
Shakspeare, . . .
. 218
85. The Invention of Printing,
99. The Tyrant of Switzerland, Scene 1,. . . .
Knowles, . . .
. 239
100. The Tyrant of Switzerland, Scene 2 . . . .
Knowles, . . .
. 241
101. The Tyrant of Switzerland, Scene 3,. . . .
Knowles, . .
.242
127. Wm. Tell Shoots the Apple from his Son's
Head,
Schiller, .....
281
EXPLANATORY INDEX,
317
PREFIXES AND POSTFIXES . .
,331
THE
STANDARD FOURTH READER
PART 1.
*#* The letters El, placed at the end of a word, in this work, refer the reader A
he explanation of that word in the Explanatory Index at the end of the volvm
LESSON I.
MARKS AND SIGNS IN READING.
1. Punctuation, from a Latin word (punctwn), signifying a point,
is the art of dividing words and sentences from one another in written
or printed language, so that the reader may comprehend their mean.
Ing the more readily and accurately. The Comma (,) usually repre¬
sents the shortest pause ; the Semi-colon (;), a longer pause than the
comma ; the Colon (:), a longer pause than the semi-colon ; and the
Period (.), a full stop.
2. The Note of Interrogation (?) is used to denote that a question
is asked ; as, Who is there ? The Note of Exclamation (!) is express¬
ive of any strong emotion ; as, O! heavy day < The Marks of
Parenthesis ( ) are used when a word or passage or mark which
interrupts the progress of the sentence is inserted ; as, Honesty (the
proverb is an old one) is the best policy.
3. The Dash ( —;) is used where a sentence breaks off abruptly ;
and sometimes as a substitute for the marks of parenthesis. Brackets
( ] include an explanation or name foreign to the text. The Hyphen
( - ) is used to separate syllablesand the parts of compounded words;
as, watch-ing, fire-engine; and is placed after a syllable ending a line,
to show that the remainder of the word begins the next line.
2
14
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
4. The Apos'tro-phe ('), a mark differing from the comma only in
being placed above the line, denotes the omission of one or more let¬
ters ; as o'er for over, 'gan for began. It also marks the separation
of the final s of the possessive case from the noun ; as, John's hat.
The possessive case plural is indicated by an apostrophe after the
letter s ; as, the trees'1 leaves.
5. When a proper name -ends in s, the s of the possessive case
ought to be expressed in writing, if intended to be pronounced We
say Jones's barn, and so it should be written, and not Jones' barn.
We say Collins's poems, not Collins' poems ; for then a hearer might
suppose the name of the poet was Collin. In words where an s im¬
mediately follows another s, we often, for the sake of euphony,13 omit
the s of the possessive case in pronouncing, and in such instances it
should be omitted in writing. Thus we say and write, Ilyssus
banks, in Moses' days, Ulysses' wisdom. Such forms are chiefly
used in poetry. In prose it is more usual to say, " The banks of
Ilyssus," " In the days of Moses,'' &c.
6. Marks of Quotation (" ") are used to denote that the words of
another person than the author, real or supposed, are quoted. When
one quotation is introduced within another, the included one should
be preceded by a single inverted comma, and closed by a single apos¬
trophe ; thus, (' '). Two commas (") are used, as in the Table, on
page 18, to show that something is understood which was expressed
in the line and word immediately above.
7. Marks of Ellipsis (a Greek word signifying an omission) are
formed by means of a long dash, or of a succession of points or stars
( , ,****), of various lengths, and which are used
to indicate the omission of letters in a word, of words in a sentence,
or of sentences in a paragraph ; as Q***n for queen.
8. A Paragraph, sometimes indicated by the sign (^[), is a small
subdivision in writing, which is now generally represented simply by
beginning a sentence with a new line having a slight blank space at
its commencement. Thus this lesson is divided into paragraphs, the
number of the present being 8. " See 1 20 " means See Paragraph
Twenty. The sign (T[) is sometimes used, like an asterisk, as a mark
of reference.
9. The Section (§) denotes the division of a discourse or chapter
into inferior portions. The Index, or Hand (&"), points out a note¬
worthy passage. The Asterisk (*), the Obelisk or Dagger (f), the
Double Dagger (J), and Parallels ( ||), are marks of reference to the
margin or some other part of a book. The small letters and figures
MARKS AND SIGNS IN READING.
15
over words in the present work (the letters ei referring the reader to
the Explanatory Index, and the figures to the corresponding numbers
of paragraphs in Part I.) are called Superiors by the printers. The
reader should make himself familiar with these references, and the
information to which they point.
10. The Brace (-wv**) is used to connect two or more words, to
show their relation to a common definition or term. The Caret (a)
is used only in writing to point to something interlined above it.
The Cedilla is used under the French c, thus (9), to signify that it is
to be pronounced soft, like s.
11. The Diae'resis (• •), a Greek word signifying a division, divides
two vowels into two syllables that would otherwise make a diph¬
thong ; as, Creator. It may also be placed over a vowel to show
that the vowel commences a new syllable ; as, blessed, aged, learned,
though the grave or acute accent is sometimes used for this purpose.
In. poetry, in the preterites and past participles of verbs, it is often
intended that the termination ed should form a distinct syllable, in
order to make the measure complete ; and in reading the Bible it is
customary to make two syllables of the word blessed, and three of
the word beloved, &c., though 'in common speech we make but one,
and two.
12. A mark identical with the hyphen ( - ) is sometimes placed
over a vowel to denote that the quantity is long ; as in note, revolt,
remote, accede. This mark, when thus used, is called by some gram¬
marians a Mak'ron, from a Greek word signifying long. The mark
called the Breve (from the Latin brevis, short) is placed over a vowel
to indicate that it is short; as in hat, met, get, Helena, pit, not, but
crystal.
13. "When the Mak'ron is placed over an a, remember that the
letter thus marked should be sounded long, as in gave; over an c,
long as in theme; over an i, long as in kite; over an 0, long as in
robe ; over an u, long and diphthongal (like its name sound in the
alphabet) as in mute, cube, tutor (not tootor), student (not stoodent).
When the Breve is placed over an a, the letter so marked should be
sounded short, as in hat, am; over an e, as in pet, forget (not forgit) ;
over an i, as in pin, within; over an 0, as in lot, solace; over an u.
as in fun, punch.
14. Accent lays a distinguishing stress on certain syllables of
words, as Emphasis does on certain words of a sentence. In the wjrd
distant there is an emphasis or stress on the first syllable; in the
Word serene!on the second. This stress is called Adcent, it must
16
THE STANDARB FOURTH READER.
not be confounded with quantity. In the substantive compact, and
the adjective compact, the quantity of the vowels is the same,
although the accent of the syllables is different.
15. There are three marks of accent: the mark of the acute
accent ('), the mark of the grave accent (v), the mark of the circum¬
flex (A), which is a compound of the other two. The acute accent
is used in English to mark the accent'ed syllable. The other accents
are employed chiefly in French, and there to denote a difference in
the pronunciation, not in the accent. The circumflex accent over e
denotes that it should have the long alphabetical sound of a, as in
name; thus,fete (pronouncedfate).
16. Capital letters should be used in the following instances : At
the beginning of the first word of every sentence ; of every line of
poetry ; of every quotation formally introduced ; of proper names,
and adjectives derived from them ; of titles of honor; of the names
of Deity, and often of the pronouns he, his and him, when referring
to Him. The pronoun 1 and the interjections O, Ah, &c., must be
written in capitals; also the first letter of words to which it is
desired to give particular prominence ; as, the Revolution, Congress,
&c. Italic letters are sometimes used to distinguish certain words or
passages. The reader will see several words so distinguished on the
present page. In writing, we draw a line under words which we
wish to have the printer put in Italic type.
17. Abbreviations are not as much used as they were formerly.
It is well always to study precision in the use of words, and conse¬
quently we should abbreviate as little as is consistent with conve¬
nience. Many a mischievous mistake has been made by trusting to an
abbreviation. For a list of the principal abbreviations in use at the
present day see the word Abbreviations in the Explanatory Index ai
the end of this volume.
Questions. — 1. What is the word Punctuation derived from, and what is its meaning]
Name the principal points. 2. What mark is put at the end of a questioni of an excla
mation ? The use of the marks of parenthesis ? 3. The dash ? Brackets ? The hyphen 1
4. The apostrophe f 5. Ought it to be used in the possessive case of proper names ending
In s t 6. What are marks of quotation ? Is there any other use to which inverted com
mas are put ? 7. Marks of ellipsis ? The meaning of the word ? 8. A paragraph ? By
what mark signified ? 9 A section ? Index, or hand ? Asterisk ? Obelisk, or dagger f
Double dagger? Parallels? Superiors? 10. The trace ? The caret? The cedilla?
11. The diaeresis ? May it be used to show that a vowel begins a new syllable ? 12. Whal
is a makron ? A breve ? 13. Illustrate the use of these marks. 14. What is accent I
Does it differ from quantity ? IS. The marks of accent ? 10. What is said of the use of
eapital letters ? 17. What of abbreviations? Where will you find a list »f abbreviations
In the present volume ?
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
17
LESSON XI.
■ELEMENTARY SOUNDS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
18. By Elementary Sounds we mean the simplest possible sounds,
from which all other sounds are compounded. In the spoken lan¬
guage, the Elementary Sounds are divided into two classes : 1, Vo¬
calic or Vowel Sounds; 2, Consonantal or Consonant Sounds. The
word vowel is from the Latin word vocalis, vocal; and it means what
can be sounded, or form voice by itself.
19. The word consonant is formed from the Latin words con, with,
sonant, sounding; because, although the consonantal sounds .can be
isolated,®1 that is, separated from the vocalic, yet in practice they are
joined to vocalic sounds and pronounced with them.
20. Thus the single sounds of b' or V (pronounced as nearly as
possible without the vowel sounds they have in pronouncing their
alphabet names), if taken by themselves, cannot form a word, or even
a syllable. In order to do so, they must be joined to a vowel, and
sounded along with it. A vowel, on the contrary, may independently
form a syllable, as in e-ject:
21. It should be understood that the alphabetical or name sound
of a letter (by which we mean that sound which it has in the alpha¬
bet) is not a guide to the sound of that letter in the various combi
nations in which it is used in the formation of words. The sound
of a is very different in the following words * father, fat, fate, fall
The sound of e is very different in city and can. The sound of ou is
very different in sound and soup.
22. The same letter or letters may represent various sounds. In fix
ing the pronunciation of the alphabet, it would have been as proper
to pronounce the first letter like the a in father as like the a in fate.
Bearing in mind this distinction between letters and the sounds they
stand for, the pupil will find that several letters or combinations of
letters are often used to express the same sound; thus, the ea in great
and the ei in vein have the same sound as the a in fate; the o in
Women has the same sound as the i in pit.
23. It has been already seen, however, that there are a certain
number of sounds called Elementary Sounds. These sounds have
been classified variously by various scholars. In the Table presented
on page 18, we give the classification which seems to us to have the
advantage of simplicity, precision and convenience.
24. By " Cognate®1 Consonant Sounds " is meant a class of sounds
18
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
allied to each other, or resembling each other in sound. By the
terms aspirate and vocal are meant, 1, By aspirate, those which,
separated from their vowel sounds, require but a whisper for their
distinct utterance; 2, By vocal, those which, separated from -their
vowel sounds, require the natural tone of the voice. Sometimes the
terms sharp and flat are used instead of aspirate and vocal.
TABLE OF THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS IN THE ENGLISH
LANGUAGE.
VOWEL SOUNTS.
1.
That of a in father
7.
That of i in fit.
2.
" * a" fat.
8.
ft
o " note.
8.
" a " fate.
9.
ft
o " not.
4.
" a " fall.
10.
M
u " bull.
6.
" e " mete.
11.
ft
oo " fool.
6.
" e " met.
12.
ft
u " but.
VOWEL OR CONSONANT SOUNDS.
13. That of w in wet. | 14. That of y in yet.
CONSONANT SOUNDS.
15. That of A in hot, an aspirate, or simple breathing.
16. " ng " king, a nasal consonant sound.
17. " m " man, a liquid nasal consonant sound.
18. " n " wot, " " " "
19. " I " let, a liquid consonant sound.
20. " r arun, " " **
COGNATE CONSONANT SOUNDS.
21. That of p
in pan,
) aspirate.
22 "
b
hag,
J vocal.
28 "
f
/an,
) aspirate.
24. "
V
wan,
J vocal.
25, "
th
thin,
> aspirate.
26. "
th
thine,
J vocal.
27. "
t
tin,
) aspirate.
28. «
d
din,
S vocal.
29. That of k in kind,
1 aspirate.
CO
©
gun,
J vocal.
31. " s
sin,
) aspirate
CO
fcO
o
zeal,
y vocal.
33. " sh
shine,
1 aspirate
34. " z
azure,
y vocal.
COMPOUND VOWEL SOUNDS.
1. That of i in pine. I 8. That of ou in house.
2. " u " cube. I 4. " oi " voice.
COMPOUND CONSONANT SOUNDS.
1. That of ch in chest (aspirate). | 2. That of j in /est (vocal).
* See Y6, in regard to the significance of this sign (M).
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS
It
25. The list of the Elementary Sounds in the English language
ends with Number-34. There are six Compound Sounds. Of
these, four are compounded by means of a vowel, and two by means
c-f a consonant. The letters c, yand x, do not appear in the preceding
Table, because, as representatives of sound, they are redundant.®1 (
expresses only what is as well expressed by either sot k; for instance
the words city and can are respectively pronounced sity and Aan. Q
is only kw (or cw), and x is only ks (or ts) ; for instance, the words
yueen and boa;, are respectively pronounced kween (or ciceen), and
bofo (or bocks, or bocs).
26. There are also Modified Vowel Sounds, not sufficiently decided
to be classed as independent elementary sounds, but still exhibiting
shades of difference, attention to which is essential to a pure and
accurate articulation. The obscure sound of a vowel is an indistinct
sound it has from the peculiarity of its position in a word, or to
abridge the time of utterance. In obscuring a vowel sound, conform
to the vowel's proper sound as much as is consistent with ease in
utterance.
MODIFIED VOWEL SOUNDS.*
I.
a
long before r, as in fore.
7.
a obscure,t as in rival.
2.
a
intermediate, " fast.
8.
e
it
it
brier.
3.
e
short and obtuse,"1 " her.
9.
i
it
it
infinite.
4.
i
<« « u
10.
0
it
a
actor.
5.
u
« « « fwr>
11.
u
a
it
sulphur
6.
y
" ** " myrrh.
Questions. —18. What axe elementary sounds, and into what are they divided ?
What is the derivation of the word vowel ? 19. What of the word consonant? 20.
Illustrate the difference between vowels and consonants. 21. Do letters have always the
same sounds they have in the alphabet ? 22. May one letter stand for more than one
sound ? 24. What is meant by cognate consonant sounds ? What is meant by this
sign (") in the Table of Elementary Sounds 1 Repeat the elementary vowel sounds. The
two vowel or consonant sounds. The consonant sounds. The cognate consonant sounds.
85, 20- Name the compound vowel sounds. The compound consonant sounds. The
modified vowel sounds. What is meant by the word modified ? (Pupils are referred to
the Explanatory Index.) What do you learn from the note (p. 79) in regard to obscuring
vowel sounds T
* In regard to the sounds of short a and short o before r, see V 108. On
the similarity of the sounds of er, ir, ur, &o., see V 107, and IT 109.
f In obscuring vowel sounds, a just medium should be observed between
that precision which demands a distinct conformity to one of the regular
sounds of the vowel, and that looseness which gives it the positive sound
of some other vowel. Thus, in the word rival, while it would impede a
20
thk standard fourth reader.
LESSON I'll.
SOUNDS OF THE VOWELS.
27. According to the preceding Table of the Elementary Sounds
the sound of a in father (called Italian a) is the leading vowel sound
in the English language. In the enumeration of the sounds of a, it
has generally been the practice to place the long sound of a (as io
fate) at the head of the list. But later orthoepists have preferred
the order which we have adopted.
28. The Italian a is placed first, because it is the simplest and most
easily enounced ; because it is the first enounced by children ; be¬
cause it is the most common vowel sound ; and because it stands at
the head of most alphabets.
29. This first sound of a should be slightly modified11 in such
words as pass, dance, waft, command, Ac., in which the a should not
be as broad as in father, nor as close as in flat, but a sound between
the two. Some orthoepists call the sound, thus modified, interme
diate a.
30. The second sound of a is its short sound, as in mat. The
third is its long sound (sometimes called its name or alphabet sound),
as in tame, which is modified when in combination with the liquid r,
as in care.
31. The fourth sound of a is its broad sound, as in fall, which is
shortened when the a is preceded by w, and succeeded by a single
consonant in the same syllable ; as in wal-low, &c. ; or by two con¬
sonants in the same syllable, as in want, &c.: but when I or r is one
of the consonants, the a becomes long, as in walk, swarm, &c.
32. The elementary sounds of e are its long sound, as in mete, and
its short sound, as in met. It is sometimes equivalent to long a, as
proper rapidity of utterance to attempt giving to the a its regular short
sound, we can still come so near to it that the sound of the vowel will not
degenerate into u, thus converting the word into rivul.
Teachers are much at variance in regard to this class of vowel sounds.
With Webster, Worcester and other orthoepists,■' we have classed them
under the head of obscure. The true sound lies in a partial and easy, but not
too careless obscuration. The tendency of all changes in pronunciation
and accent has been to an abridgment of the time of utterance, and any attempt
to introduce a formal avoidance of obscuration cannot be long or generally
adopted. We may as well yield to the tendency, and regulate it as best
we may.
SOUNDS OP THE TOWELS.
'21
in there, ere (meaning before), e'er (contracted from ever), ne'er
(contracted from never), &c. Sometimes e has a short and obtuse■"
sound, as in brier, fuel; and sometimes it has the sound of short t.
as in .England.
33. In many instances, when preceding I and n in final unaccented
syllables, the sound of the e is dropped; as in drivel, grovel, heaven,
hearken, given, open, &c., which are pronounced as if written grov'l,
heav'n, &c. In the following and some other exceptions, the sound
of the e ("Walker says the short sound, Webster the obscure) is
retained : revel, chapel, chicken, vessel, sudden, novel, travel, sloven,
counsel, model, woolen, flannel, &c.: not rev'l, sudd'n, &c.
34. The e mute (or unsounded), in words like robe, hive, serves to
show that the preceding vowel is long ; but there are exceptions, as
in give, live, where the preceding vowel is short. E is always mute
at the end of words, except in monosyllables (like the, me) which
have no other vowels; and sometimes in proper names and words
from the Greek and Latin, as Phebe, Tempe, syncope, ex-temporg.
35. The sound of e is generally suppressed in the preterites of"
verbs and in participles in ed, when the vowel is not preceded by d or
t; as in feared, loved, revealed, tossed; pronounced feard, lovd, re-
veald, tost. When it is intended, in poetry or elsewhere, that the
sound of the e should be retained, this may be signified by putting
the mark of the diseiesis (see If 11) over the e, thus: feared, re¬
vealed. The adjectives aged, winged and learned, are pronounced
in two syllables.
36. The lohg or alphabetical sound of i (as in mind) being re¬
garded as a diphthongal, compound sound, is not included in our
Table of Elementary Sounds, but will be found among the Compound
Vowel Sounds. -This sound, according to Walker, is composed of
the sounds of a in father and e in he, pronounced as closely togethei
as possible. According to others, the real elements of the sound are
the a in fat followed by the y in yet, rapidly pronounced. The na¬
ture of this compound sound (i long) is disguised by the spelling.
It is erroneously supposed by many to be the sound of i in pit,
lengthened in the pronunciation.
37. The short sound of i (as in pin) represents the seventh
elementary sound. Before r it is equivalent, in some words, to short
u, as in first. In a class of words derived mostly from the French
nd Italian, i has the sound vf long e, as in antique, magazine,
caprice, pique, fatigue, quarantine. But i has its short sound in
masculine, feminine, juvenile, &o
22
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
88. Two elementary sounds are represented by o, namely, the
eighth and ninth; the long as in n5te, the short as in not. It some
times has the sound of oo (the eleventh elementary sound), as in
prove ; of u short, as in love, done, son, Monday, combat, nothing,
come, &o.; of i short, as in women; of the u in full, as in wolf,
woman, &c.
39. In word, work, &c., o has the sound of u in hurt. In some
words ending in on, as pardon, weapon, reason, cotton, &c., the
sound of o is almost suppressed. The sound of o in nor, form, &c.,
is called broad o ; but, being the same as broad a (in fall, warm), it
cannot be set down as an independent elementary sound.
40. The long sound of u is its alphabetical sound (as in mule,
cube), and is a compound sound, which, like long i, is disguised in the
spelling. Consequently it is not placed among the elementary
sounds. It consists of the sound of long e prefixed to long oo; or,
as some say, of the sound of i in fit, followed by that of the w in
will, rapidly pronounced. When represented by means of the single
letter u, the spelling gives the erroneous notion of its being a single,
simple, elementary sound. The sound of ew in few is its equiv¬
alent.®1
41. Besides this compound long sound, the letter u represents the
tenth elementary sound, as in bull; and the twelfth elementary sound
as in but. The long sound (as in mule, &e.) should generally be
given to u, — 1, when u ends a syllable, as in tu-lip, fu-tu-rity; 2,
when followed by a single consonant and final e, as in impute, tube.
42. It should be remembered, however, that this long sound of
u does not come naturally after r, owing to the trilled quality of this
last letter. We should pronounce the u in rude, ruler, ruminate
&c., nearly like oo in moon; giving to it little, if any, of its diph¬
thongal long sound. After d, t, n and s, this long sound of u should
be preserved, but not so decidedly after I. U sometimes takes the
sound of short i, as in lettuce.
43. Y represents the fourteenth elementary sound. At the begin-
"ning of a word it is a consonant, and has always the same sound.
When it is a vowel, at the end of a word or syllable with the accent
upon it, it is sounded exactly like long i, as in ty-rant, re-ply. At
the end of a word it is sometimes pronounced like indistinct e, as in
policy, lately; and sometimes like long i, as in by, fortify, ally. It
is equivalent to u, as in youth; to short i, as in synod, crypt; and
to short u, as in myrrh.
44. W has nearly the sound of oo. and represents the thirteenth
DIPHTHONGS AND TRIPHTHONGS.
23
elementary sound„as in wet. With o and e it forms diphthongs, as
Jn now. new. It is always mute before r, as in write. It is often
joined to o at the end of a syllable without affecting the sound; as
in grow.
Questions.—27. What is the leading vowel sound in our language? 28. Why is it
placed first ? 29. What is the sound of intermediate a J 30. The second sound of a?
The third ? 31. The fourth ? When is this sound shortened ? 32. What are the sounds
of e i 33 When is the sound of e dropped ? Is it dropped in open, &c. ? In chapel,
Ac. ? 34. What is said of e mute ? 35. In what other instances is the sound of e sup¬
pressed ? 36. Why is not long i included among the elementary rowel sounds ? 37. What
of short i ? 38. What does o represent ? 39. When is its sound almost suppressed ?
40, 41. Is the long, alphabetical sound of u a simple or compound sound ? When should
it be used ? What elementary sounds does u represent ? 42. Should the long sound of k
be used after r, as in rule, &c. ? Mention a word in which u has the sound of t. 43
When is y a consonant ? How is it sounded when a vowel ? 44. What is said of
LESSON IV.
DIPHTHONGS AND TRIPHTHONGS.
45. A Diphthong (see If 75) is two vowel letters joined in one syl¬
lable ; as, ou in south. The word is derived from the Greek words
dis (double) and phthong'e, (a voice). A diphthong is called proper *
when the vowels blend and form one sound, as au in caught; im¬
proper, when one of the sounds only is sounded, as ea in beat, in
which word we hear only the sound of long e.
46. M, an improper diphthong, is borrowed from the Latin, in
which language it has the sound of long e, as in Casar. Ai has the
sound of long a, as in pail; of short a, as in plaid, raillery; of
short e in said, again, against; of short i (or, as some say, obscure»)
in curtain, fountain, captain, &c.; and of long i in aisle.
47. Au has the sound of broad a in cause; of the Italian a (as in
father) in the following words : aunt, craunch, daunt, draught, flaunt,
gaunt, gauntlet, haunch, haunt, laugh, jaunt, jaundice, laundry,
saunter, staunch, &c. In gauge, au has the sound of long a (as in
page); in hautboy (pronounced ho-boy), of long o.
48. Aw has always the sound of broad a, as in crawl. Ay has
the sound of alphabetical a long, as in day; except in quay, pro-
* It was proposed by Sheridan, and urged by Webster, that the terms
proper and improper diphthongs should be discarded, and diphthong and
digraph substituted : and that an improper triphthong should be called a
-ifraph.
24
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
nounced he, and in says, pronounced sez. The pronunciation of the
adverb ay, meaning yes, is expressed by the first elementary sound
(that of a in father), and the fifth, thus: ae.
49. Ea has the sound of a long, as in great; of e short, as in
head ; of e long, as in heat; of the Italian a, as in heart, hearth, &c.
It has an obscure sound in vengeance, &c. Ee is equivalent to e long,
as in eel. In been it has the sound of short i, in pin.
50. Ei has the sound of a long, as in veil, deign, inveigh, heinous ,
of e long, as in deceit; of long i, as in height; of short i (or, as
some say, obscure i), as in forfeit, surfeit; of short e, as in heifer -
51. Eo has the sound of e long, as in people; of e short, as in
jeopard; of o long, as in yeoman; of o obscure, as in dungeon.
52. En and ew have almost always the sound of alphabetical w,
as in fewd, dew. When preceded by the trilled letter r or by the
liquid I, the same rule applies to them as to alphabetical u. See 42
In sen?, shea; and strew, ew has the sound of long o.
53. Ey has the sound of long a, as in prey, eyry. In key and ley,
if has the sound of long e; and, when unaccented, it has the slight
sound of e, as in galley, valley, &c.
54. The diphthong ia has, in some words, the obscure sound of
short i, as in carriage, parliament. It often forms but one syllable in
the terminations ial, ian and iard, the i being sounded like y; as,
christian, filial, poniard, pronounced as if written christ'yan, Jil'yal,
pon'yard.
55. The regular sound of ie is that of long e, as in field, fiend. It
has the sound of long i in die, of short e in friend, and of short i in
Bieve.
56. The regular sound of oa is that of long o, as in boat, coat,
soap, road, loaf, &c. Be careful to give the full, long sound of o
(as in note) to these words. In broad and groat, this diphthong has
the sound of broad a.
57. (E has the sound of e short in assafoetida; of e long in foetus,
of o long in doe, foe, &c.; of u short in does ; and of oo in canoe.
Oi is sounded like oy in boy, except in tortoise (where it has an ob¬
scure sound of short i), and choir (pronounced kwlr).
58. The regular sound of oo (the eleventh elementary sound) is
heard in moon, fool, and is the same as that of single o in move. It
has a shorter sound (like that of u in bull) in book, good, &c. Thii
distinction between long and short oo should be carefully heeded. " Oa
has the sound of long o in door and floor; and of short u in bhod
and flood.
DIPHTHONGS AND TRIPHTHONGS.
25
59. The most common or regular sound of ou is that which it has
in the word sound. It has the sound of short u in young, cousin
&c.; ofo (as in move) or of oo (as in moon) in group, surtout, capouch,
croup, tour, through, uncouth, &c. ; the sound of long o in soul,
though pour, mould, smoulder, &c.; the sound of broad a (as in
ball) in bought, ought, thought, &c.; also in cough and trough (pro¬
nounced kawf, trawf). It has the sound of u in bull, or of oo in
good, in could, should, would.
60. The regular sound of ow is the same as that of ou in now,
tewn, tower, &c. It has the sound of long o in grow, flow, know,
owe, &c.; and of short o in knowledge, rhyming with college. "When
this diphthong forms a final or unaccented syllable, it has the slight
sound of long o, as in borrow, follow, follower.
61. The diphthong ua, when both its letters are sounded, has th»
power of wa, as in language, equal, persuade. The u in this diph¬
thong is silent in guard, guardian, guarantee, piquant and piquancy.
In the word Mantua, a town of Italy, both vowels are heard dis¬
tinctly. In mantua-maker, the sound only of long u is heard in this
diphthong. In victuals (pronounced vit'tlz), both the letters are silent.
62. When both the letters of the diphthong ue are sounded, they
have the force of we, as in quench, conquest, desuetude, &c. In some
words the u is silent, as in guess, guerdon, guest; and in some both
letters are silent, as in league, tongue, harangue, antique, oblique,
dialogue, &c. This diphthong after r becomes oo; thus, true is pro¬
nounced troo. After I, also, it loses in usage a good portion (though
not all) of its long diphthongal sound, as in blue, flue.
63. Ui has four sounds : that of wi, as in anguish, languid; that
of i long, as in guide, guile ; that of i short, as in build, guinea ;
that of u, as in juice, pursuit.
64. A Triphthong is three vowel letters joined in one syllable; as,
eau in beau, uoy in buoy. The triphthong eau is used only in words
derived from the French. In beauty it has the sound of alphabetical
u; but its regular sound is that of long o, as in beau, portmanteau,
&c. leu and iew should have the sound of alphabetical u, as in adieu,
review.
Qttestcws. — 45. What is a diphthong? When proper? When improper? 46.
What of se? ai? 47.au? 48. aw? 49. ea, ee? 50. ei? 51 eo? 52. eu and ew?
63 ey? 54. ia? 55. ie? 50. oa? 57. oe? 58. oo? 59 on? 60 ow? 61. m!
62. ue ? 63. ui ? 64. What is a triphthong ?
s
2ti
the standard fourth reader.
LESSON Y.
SOUNDS OF THE CONSONANTS.
65 After m, and before t, in the same syllable, b is silent; as la
lamA, bomA, thumA, debtor, douAt, subtle; but succumb and rhomb are
exceptions.
66. Before a, o, u, I, r, t, the sound of c is hard, and like that of
h. Before e, i and y, it is soft, and sounds like s; except in sceptic
(spelled also sceptic) and scirrhus, in which two words it is hard,
like k. When c comes after the accent, and is followed by ea, ia, io,
or eous, it takes, like s, the sound of sh; as, o'cean, so'cial, &c.
67. The regular English sound of ch is that which it has in cAild
cAimney, &c. In words derived from the ancient languages, ch is
generally hard like k, as in acAe, cAoler, cAirography, disticA, epocA,
hemisticA, scAolar, stomacA, &c. The exceptions are cAarity, cAart
and cAarter. Ch is hard in all words in which it is followed by I
or r. In dracAm, scAism (pronounced sizm), and yacAt (yot), it is
silent.
68. When arch, signifying chief, begins a word from the Greek
language, and is followed by a vowel, it is pronounced ark, as in
^rcAangel, architect, archive, arcAipelago, arcAitrave; but when arch
is prefixed to an English word, it is pronounced so as to rhyme with
march; as in arcAbishop, arcAduke, arcA-fiend.
69. The termination ed of the past tense and participle takes the
Bound of d in many words ; as in healed, sealed, pronounced heald,
seald; and, in some words, it assumes the sound of t, as in distressed
stuffed, pronounced distrest, stufft. In handsome, stadtholder, and
Wednesday, the d is not sounded.
70. The sound of/is generally uniform, as in /ull, soft; but in
the preposition of it has the sound of v. G is hard (as in ^ave) be¬
fore a, o and u, except in gaol, usually written, as pronounced, jail
G, before e, i and y, is generally soft (as in ^em, gibbet,.yyves) ; but
there are many exceptions to this, as in get, yibber, gibberish, gib¬
bous, .yimp, give, &c.; also in syllables added to words in g, as fog,
foggy. G is mute before m or » in the same syllable, as in phlegm,
ynaw, condign, apothegm, &c.
71. In some words gh has the sound of /, as in rouyA, lauyA, <fcc.;
in some the sound of k, as in hou^A, shou^rA, louyA; but in the greater
number of words gh is silent, as in hiyA, thiyA, inveiyA, sleiyA,
droiiyAt, riyAt, plouyA (spelled by Webster jlazc), bouyA, furlouyA,
SOUNDS OP THE CONSONANTS.
27
ftc In olouyA and slouyA, gh is sometimes silent, and sometimes his
the soun'd of f.
72. The letter A is properly a mark of breathing or aspiration,
such as may be heard in Aat, Aorse, See. At the beginning of some
words it is silent, as in Aeir, Aeiress, Aonor, Aonesty, Aonorable, Aour,
&c. In Aospital, Aumble, Aumor, Aumorous, Aerb, Aerbage, exAibit,
exAaust, exAilarate, See., the A, according to some authorities, is
sounded. It is very slightly sounded after r, as in rAetoric, rAapsody.
73. In the word hallelujah, j has the sound of y. K has the same
sound as c hard, and is always silent before », as in Anee, Anock. L
is silent in many words, as in chaZk, wou/d, cou/d, fafcon (pro¬
nounced faucon), sa/mon (pronounced sammon). M preserves its
sound, except in accompt and comptroller, more commonly written,
as pronounced, account, controller. In mnemonics, the initial m ia
silent.
74. N assumes the sound of ng when followed in the same syllable
by A, c, cA, q, a;, as in thank, cincture, anchor, banquet, ^nxious.
After I and m in the same syllable, it is silent; as iu kiln, condemn,
hymn.
-75. P is silent before * and t at the beginning of words; as in
psalm, ptisan. PA has generally the sound of f, as in pAysio. In
nephew and StepAen, it has the sound of v. In dipAthong and tripA-
thong, it has, according to Webster, the sound of f; according tc
Walker, the sound of p. In napAtha, it has the sound of p.
76. Q is always followed by u, and has usually the sound of Aw,
as in queen. In many words derived from the French qu has tho
sound of A, as in co^Met, mas<?werade.
77. R is always more or less sounded. It has a jarring or trilled
effect when it begins a syllable or word, with or without a consonant;
as in run, wrestle, shrill. It has its smooth sound when it is the last
consonant in a syllable or wopd, as in armor,'are (rhyming with far)
e rr (rhyming with her). But when the next syllable begins with a
vowel, it often commences with the sound of trilled r; as in arid,
spirit, caravan, &c. In some few words the sound of the rhas a tend¬
ency to transposition; as in apron, iron, pronounced apurn, iurn.
78. The common or regular sound of s is its hissing sound, like c
soft, in son, this. It has also a vocal sound, like that of z, in wise,
his, See. It has the sound of sh, as in sure, in words ending in sion
preceded by a consonant; of zh, as in pleasure, in sion preceded by
a vowel r and it is sometimes silent, as in island, viscount. S has
always its hissing sound at the beginning of words, and generally its
focal sound (that of z) in plural terminations, where the singular
28
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
ends in a vowel, or in b, d, g, v, I, m, n, or r; as in pea*, rib*, bed*
&c., pronounced peas:, ribz, beds:.
79. T assumes the sound of sh (as in partial, nation), when it
comes immediately after the accent, and is followed by the vowels ia,
ie, or io. It is sometimes silent before le and before en; as in bustle,
has/en, often ; is silent in billet-doux, eclat, hautboy, mortgage; and
in the first syllable of chestnut.
80. Th has two sounds: one aspirate, as in thin, breath; the other
vocal, as in this, smooth, brea the, &c. In some nouns th is aspirate
in the angular, as in batA, patA, moutA ; and vocal in the plural, as
in bat As, patAs, moutAs. The A is silent in astAenic, astAma, istAmus,
pAthisic, phtAisical, TAomas, TAames (pronounced Temz), tAyme.
81. V has but one sound, as in valve, and is nearly allied to f; but
v is vocal, and/ aspirate. W, at the beginning of words, is a con¬
sonant. It is always silent before r; as write, wren, wrist. In Eng¬
lish, w is always followed by another vowel, except when followed by
A or r, as in when, wreck; but this case is an exception only in
writing, and not in pronunciation, for A precedes w in utterance;
when being pronounced hooen.
82. The sound of wh is heard in wAich, what, whale, &c. The w
is sometimes silent, as in whole, who, whose, whom, whoop. The
reader's attention should be carefully directed to the preservation of
the aspirate sound in words beginning with wh, so as to mark the
distinction in utterance between such words as wAale, wail; wAich,
witch; wAeel, weal; wAist, wist; wAit, wit; wAither, wither;
wAether, weather, &c. It is a common fault to slur the aspirate.
83. The regular sound of x is its aspirate sound, like ks, as in
excellent, tax. It has a vocal sound like gz when the next syllable
following begins with an accented vowel, as in exalt, example (pro¬
nounced egzalt, example). At the beginning of words it has the
sound of z, as in Xenophon. It is silent at the end of the French
compound word, billet-doux (pronounced bil'la-doo', and meaning a
tender billet or love-letter), and is pronounced like * in beaux; often
and better written beaus.
84. Z has the sound of vocal *, as in zone. It assumes the sound
of zh when it is preceded by the accent and a vowel, and is followed
by ie or long u; as in gla'zier, a'xure, sei'zure.
Questions. — 86. When is b silent ? 66. When does c sound like k t like s ! like »h r
87. What of ch f 68. When is arch pronounced ark I When to rhyme with march ? 09.
What of the termination td t In what words is the d silent? 70. What of f? g? 71.
»th? 72. h? 73. j?k?irm? 74. n? 76. p? 76 q? 77 r? 78. s ? 79. t ? 8tt
th ? 81. v ? w 1 82. wh ? 83. x ? 84. z 7
ACCENT, SYLLABICATION, ETC
28
LESSON YI
ACCENT, SYLLABICATION, ETC.
85. Read what is said on the subject of accent in 14. All the
words in the English language, of more than one syllable, have one
syllable accent'ed, and some words have more than one; as, in'divts-
ibil'ity. Almost a!! words of more than four syllables have both a
primary and a secondary accent. Many words are distinguished by
the accent alone; thus we say, an in'sult, to insult'; the month of
Avfgust, an august! person ; half a min'ute*1 a minute inquiry, &c.
86. A mon'osyliable is a word of one syllable; a dissyllable, a
word of two syllables; a tris'yllable, a word of three syllables; and
a polysyllable, a word of more than three, or of many.
87. Syllabication is the proper formation of syllables. Persons
often measure off their words into wrong syllables in speaking. We
hear them say preface for preface; sy'nod for syn'od; troph'y for
tro'phy; pro'gress for progress; an'tipodes (making only three sylla¬
bles), when the word should be pronounced an-tip'o-des (in four
syllables) ; extem'pore (making only three syllables), when it should
be ex-tem'po-re, in four syllables. Good readers will study to avoid
blunders like these. Consult your dictionary.
88. The following is a list of dissyllables which when used as
nouns or adjectives have the accent on the first syllable, and when
used as verbs on the second:
Nouns or
Adjectives.
Verbs. •
Nouns or
Adjectives.
Verbs.
Nouns or
Adjectives.
Verbs.
Abject,
ab-jecf.
Con'cert,
con-cert'.
Con'voy,
con-voy'.
Ab'sent,
ab-sent'.
Con'crete,
con-crete'
Des'ert,
de-sert'.
Ab'stract,
ab-stract'.
Con'duct,
con-duct'.
Des'cant,
des-cant'.
Ac'cent,
ac-cenf.
Con'fine,
con-fine'.
Di'gest,
di-gest'.
Affix,
af-fix'.
Con'flict,
con-flict'.
Es'cort,
es-corf.
Aug'ment,
aug-ment'.
Con'serve,
con-serve'.
Es'say,
es-say7.
Bom'bard, bom-bard'.
Con'sort,
con-sort'.
Ex'port,
ex-port'.
Cem'ent,
ce-ment'.
Con'test,
con-test'.
Ex'tract,
ex-tract'.
Colleague, col-league'.
Con'tract,
con-tract'.
Ex'ile,
ex-ile'.
Collect,
col-lect'.
Con'trast,
con-trast'.
Fefment,
fer-ment'.
Com'pact,*
com-pact'.
Con'vent,
con-vent'.
Fore'taste,
fore-taste'
Com'plot,
com-plot'.
Con'verse,
con-verse'.
Fre'quent,
fre-quent.
Com'poundjCom-pound'.
Con'vert,
con-vert'.
Im'port,'
im-port'.
Cow'press,
com press'.
Con'vict,
con-vict'.
Im'press,
im-press'.
* So accented as a noun oniy the adjective like the verb.
3#
so
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Noons or
Adjectives.
Verbs.
Nouns or
Adjectlvea.
Verbs.
Nouns or
Adjectives.
Verbs.
In'cense,
in-cense'.
Premise,
pre-mise'.
Refuse,
re-fuse'.
In'crease,
in-crease'.
Pres'age,
pre-sage'.
Re'tail,
re-tail'.
Inlay.
in-lay'.
Pres'ent,
pre-sent.
Subject,
ssub-jecf.
In'sult,
in-sulf.
Prod'uce,
pro-duce'.'
Sur'vey,
sur-vey'.
Object,
ob-jecf.
Proj'ect,
pro-jecf.
Tor'ment,
tor-ment'.
Perlumo
per-fume'.
Progress,
pro-gress'.
Traj'ect,
tra-ject'.
Per'mit,
per-mit'.
Pro'test,
pro-test'.
Trans'fer,
trans-fer'.
Pre'fix,
pre-fix'.
Reb'el,
re-bel'.
Trans'port, trans-porf.
Prel'ude,
pre-lude'.
Rec'ord,
re-cord'.
Up'start,
up-start'.
89. In the words ally' and romance', the accent is on the last sylla¬
ble, whether they be nouns or verbs. The noun desert!, signifying
merit, has the accent on the last syllable; also dessert!, signifying a
service of fruit after meat. Accent the last syllable in pretence',
finance', pretext', research', resource', recess', burlesque', revolt'.
90. Some tris'yllables when nouns are accented on the first syl¬
lable, and when verbs on the third; as coun'terchange, counter-
change' ; coun'termand, countermand'; o'verflow, overflow'; repri¬
mand, reprimand'; in'terdict, interdicf; o'vercharge, overcharge';
o'verthrow, overthrow'; &c.
91. In the following tris'yllables orthoepistsEI differ as to whether
the accent should be on the first or second syllable. "Walker, who
represents the best English usage, places the accent on the second
syllable, thys: contem'plate, compen'sate, concen'trate, consum'mate,
constellate, demon'strate, expufrgate, extirpate. Webster says con'
template, &c.; and the word is frequently so accented by the poets.
92. In almost, the accent may be either on the first or second
syllable. Shakspeare uses it both ways. In the word or'thogpy,
Walker and Webster place the accent on the first syllable ; and this
is consistent with its Greek use. In the following words, acceptable,
commendable, aggrandizement, Walker places the accent on the
first syllable, Webster and most other orthoepists on the second. In
legislative, legislature, both these authorities place the accent on the
first syllable.
93. The usual tendency in our language has been, and is, to throw
the accent further back from the end of the word ; a tendency which
seems to arise solely from an endeavor to save time and labor by
rapidity of utterance. But sometimes this object is better attained
by throwing the accent on some other syllable than the first. In
•ases of doubtful accent, the easiest is likely to prevail.
ARTICULATION, RULES FOR EXERCISES, ETC.
3
Qcbstions. —85. What is said of accent ? 86. A word of one syllable is callea
»f two ? of three ? of more 1 87. What is said of lyllabication ? 88. When the same
dissyllable may be used as a noun or verb, is it generally distinguished by accent ? 89.
Is the accent in ally' and romance' the same, whether fchef be nouns or verbs ? 90. Name
some trisyllables that vary their accent. 91. What is said of the accent in contemplate,
Ac. 7 32. Almost ? Or'thoepy ? Acceptable, &c. ? 9& What is the tendency in our
language in regard to accent 7
LESSON YII.
ARTICULATION, RULES FOR EXERCISES, ETC.
94. Articulation is the distinct utterance of syllables or words by
the human voice, by means of a proper opening and closing of the
organs of speech. Without a clear, faithful articulation, there can
be bo good elocution : nay, it is often tedious to hear a person speak
whose articulation is defective or confused.
95. Distinctness of articulation contributes more than mere
loudness of sound to an audible, intelligible delivery. The quantity
of sound necessary to fill even a large space is smaller than is com¬
monly imagined; and, with distinct articulation, a man of weak
voice will make it reach further than the strongest voice can reach
without it. To this, therefore, every speaker ought to pay^reat
attention. He must give every sound which he utters its due pro¬
portion, and cause every syllable in the word which he pronounces
to be heard distinctly, without slurring, whispering, or suppressing
any of the proper sounds.
96. A sluggish, inattentive exercise of the organs of speech, is one
great cause of imperfect articulation. A reader must be in earnest,
and make the proper muscles do their proper work. He must not be
too eager and hurried, for precipitancy in speaking is almost as bad
as sluggishness in marring articulation. He must avoid a formal,
precise mode of articulation. Let him begin by articulating and
reading slowly, and increase his speed, as practice makes perfect,
till he shall reach the right degree of quickness.
97. In order to have a full command of the voice, the reader should
stand 'perfectly erect, with his chest well expanded, so that the lungs
may have free action : he should also take care never to exhaust his
lungs, but to keep a supply of breath in reserve. The standing
position will be found the least fatiguing to the voioe; for in sitting
the muscles of the chest cannot work sc freely. In standing, beware
32
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
of a stooping, negligent posture, for your mode of reading will par¬
take of the muscular inertness which your body may indulge in.
98. In the succeeding exercises on the elementary and compound
sounds, let the isolated" representative sound be first distinctly
enounced," and then the words containing it which are given as ex¬
amples. For instance, the first elementary sound (a as in father)
stands as a representative sound or key-note for the sound of the
Italicized letter or letters in the words placed under it. Let not this
sound be confounded with alphabetical a; but let it be distinctly un¬
derstood and enounced before the pupil shall attempt to enounce the
words in which it occurs. These words may then be articulated, and
after sufficient practice has been had upon them let the pupil take
up the second elementary sound (the a in fat), and proceed with it in
the same way.
99. By the references to this paragraph in the text of Part n., we
would direct the reader to an examination of the doubtful vowel or
consonant sound in a word by consulting the exercises commencing
on page 34. For instance, should the reference 99 be placed after
the word truths, the reader is here directed to consider that the aspi¬
rate consonant sound th (the twenty-fifth elementary sound, accord¬
ing to the Table on page 18) will be found under the Exercises, num¬
bered to correspond with its place in the above-mentioned Table.
100. In enouncing the consonant sounds, let the pure consonant
sounff, detached as far as possible from the vowel sound which accom¬
panies the alphabetical name of the consonant, be given. Thus, V,
p\d\ t\'m, k\ &c., may be so enounced that the vowel which we
hear as these letters are sounded in the alphabet, will be almost
suppressed.
101. The representative sound should not be so associated in the
mind with its letter or letters that the pupil cannot easily abstract
the sound, and apply it to other letters or combinations of letters in
an intelligent manner. Thus the combinations ey and eigh may repre¬
sent precisely the same sound as alphabetical a; and we have seen
that o may have the sound of short i, as in women.- This considera¬
tion should be continually borne in mind in the following Exercises.
102. The importance of early drilling in the elementary and pri¬
mary compound sounds should be highly esteemed. Many of the
faults set down in our school-books as blunders in pronunciation are
simply the results of a defective articulation. Let every representa¬
tive sound and every word in the following Exercises be uttered aloud,
distinctly and completely; particular attention being given to that
ARTICULATION, RULES FOR EXERCISES, ETC.
85
sound in the word which is the especial subject of exercise, in Such
manner that its character or manner of formation may then, and foi«
ever, be accurately known. As each elementary sound is, in this
way, brought in turn under notice, the pupil learns, by parts, to
articulate the language, as a whole, with a precision and promptitude
that no other method of practice can so well or so surely confer.
103. While the pupil is thus employed in acquiring accuracy and
strength of articulation, he must not be inattentive to tone and
rhythm.™ The series of select words presented as exercises are
divided, here and there, by semicolons and periods, showing where
the voice may be modulated and where dropped. These points are
placed without regard to any rule, and merely to guard against a
monotonous manner of delivery. There should be a slight pause at
the semicolon, but the upward inflection of the voice should be the
same as after the comma.
104. The succeeding exercises occur in the order of the Elementary
fcounds, and the Compound Vowel and Consonant Sounds, &c., given
jn page 18, and are numbered to correspond with that order. Bear
always in mind, in these exercises, that only the letter or letters in
Italic have the distinct representative sound placed at the commence¬
ment of the paragraph. ,
105. Words uttered without attention to their meaning, may be
said to be uttered mechanically : and when the sole immediate object
is to improve the act itself of articulation, it will be well to confine
the attention as much as possible to the mere act. A course of prac¬
tice in elocution ought to begin with exercises thus limited in pur¬
pose ; otherwise the speaker — his pronunciation and articulation
being the result of casual habit only — will never be secure that in
these fundamental points his practice is what it ought to be, or is fit
for the superstructure he would raise upon it.
Questions. — 94. What is understood by articulation ? 95. What are some of the
advantages of distinctness ? 96. To what is imperfect articulation attributed f 97. In
what posture may a person use his voice best ? 98. What mode of articulating the sub
Joined exercises is recommended? 99. What is suggested in the references to this
paragraph, attached to certain words in Part II. ? 100. In enouncing the simple Congo-
nanf sound, what is recommended ? 101. What should be borne in mind in regard U
sounds and letters ? 102. What mode of drilling is recommended ? 103. What is said
tone and rhythm ? 104 Iwhat 'rder are the folic wing Exercises given I
34
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
JEff In the following Exercises, utter the representative sound first be
itself ; then repeat it at the letter or letters in Italic. It will be useful
to precede the exercise on every sound by reading what is said of that
sound in Lessons 3, 4 or 5. T.he Elementary Sounds, <Spc., are here
given in the order they occupy in the Table, page 18.
EXERCISE I.
ELEMENTARY TOWEL SOUNDS.
1. a: — (the first elementary sound; being that of a in father;
sometimes called Italian a). Path, bath, lath, are,
barge, salve, haZf. BaZm, caZm, psaZm, aZms. Laugh,
carpet, aunt, haunt, taunt; gaantlet, laanch, draught,
daant, flaant. Jaandice, gaard,* craanch, maZmsey,
saanter, aZmond. Charge, charm, quaZm. farm, heart,
hearken, hearth. Bar, sergeant, star; ah, arm, barb,
mart, caZves, gape, wrath.
2. a: — (as in fat;« called short a, and marked thus, a). Had,
bad, gas; balcony, mall, callow, fallow, tassel, gamut;
attitude, wrap, bade. Have, shall, hath, plaid, saturate,
arid; acrid, mal'content, transom, aloe. Matin, sacri¬
fice (pronounced sac'rifiz), patent, ample, paragraph,
sample; sampler, tarry, baron. Sacrament, banian,
amber, abrogate, pacify; alphabet, tapestry, amaranth.
Natural, shanty, transit, gaseous, har'ass, adze, album;
capillary, abandon, decanter, companion, farrier. Im¬
agine, inhabit, enamel, cam'eo, carry, parry, larum,
galaxy, fantastic; gather, rather, translate, almoner,
salic, canon, canoness, clamber, raillery, catch.
8 a . — (as in fate; called long or alphabetical a, and marked
thus, a). Bathe, grange, paste; aerial, blazon, chaste ;
gauge, bait. Pay, _ prey, great, steak, blatant; range,
veins, deiyn. Nation, angel, danger, vacate, ranger;
hasten, plaintive, neighbor. Abase, arraiyn, phaeton,
chasten, compla'cent, convey, mveigh. Fatalist, placable,
gala, hey-day, feiynedly; dictator, occasion, umbrageous,
capon, cambric. StraiyAt, complaint, day, datum, stay
obey; obeisance (so according to Walker; olesance,
according to Webster), gaol (usually spelled jail). WeiyA
• There should be a slight sound of t after the y in guard.
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
35
skein, mun'dane, virago, octavo; verbatim, lapidation
data, heinous, prey; sieigh, aye, flagrant, zany, inveigh
ing, or'nate.
L 3. : — (as in fall, sometimes marked a; called broad a, and
the same in sound as broad o in ought, nor, form, &c.).
Ball, all, fall, pall, baZk, caZk, waltz, sward, waZk, normal,
salt. Bawl, pause, sauce, caught, caustic, halt, broad,
groat, aught, naught, false, auction. Thraldom, also,
sausage, saurian, saucy, always, foZeon (see IF 73), squall,
squaw, paltry, water, august, swart, nauseate. Warm,
balsam, caudle, scald, alder, alter, swarthy, lawyer, north,
falchion, abroad, brought, thought, snort, forlorn, halter.
Malt, awl, awful, wampum, author, caucus, plaudit, orb,
bauble, cough, trough. (In the two last words, Walker
gives to the ou the sound of short o in not. Webster's
pronunciation, which we have here followed, is mora
consistent with usage and the nature of the words.)
6. e : — (as in be, called long, or alpnan.-tical e, and marked
thiii, e). Me, e'en, routine, lief; bnef, leaf, glebe, feet;
mean, key, mien, grceve; seize, weasand, sphere, quay
(see IF 48), pique, relief, torpedo, precept. Ccesar, free¬
man, treaty, tea, bohea, negro, unique; either, people,
concede, demon, redeem, eagle, prescience, demesne.
Crime'a, conceit, critique; colosseum, aure'ola; deify,
decency, breviary; adhesion, theist, wgis, receiver, pre¬
mature ; receipt, ennui (pronounced aunwe'), irremediable.
Seizure, breve, antip'o-des, field; fiend, siege, ravine;
fatigue, serial, extem'po-re, epit'o-me, serene, pier, dear
caprice, senile, bary'tes, machine. Ambergris, antique,
sys'tole, syn'cope ; deceit, trustee, marine, phwnix; chi¬
mera, quarantine ; verdigris, tamborine, vice-ge'rent.
6, e : — (as in met; called short e, and marked thus : e). Pet,
yes; helmet, velvet; sterile, merit, mesmeric; pellet,
bed, yet, get, forget. Bread, deaf, helm, realm; preb'end,
said, very, merry; says, feoff, friend. Pensive, etiquette,
getting, kettle; bestial, engine, revery, spheric, fetid,
special; preface, predatory, schedule, predecessor, presage.
Pell-mell, ferule, breakfast, meadow, heifer; leopard,
ready, many, any, represent. Heaven, guess, zealot,
cleanse, again; against, accidental, errant, erring, peasant,
pheasant, predicate, imminent, banishment, happiness.
7 I . — (as in pin; called short i, and marked thus: u
OCT" Long i, not being regarded as an elementary sound,
36
THS STANDARD FOURTH READER.
will be found among the Compound Vowel bounds)
Bid, it, pit, hyp, wind, give; plinth, virulent, sieve
Minim, myth, build; frigid, crypt, living ; cygnet, visor
styptic, synod, women. Vineyard, been, scrivener, hys¬
sop, abyss; citron, chintz; livelong, vigil; witty
breeches, chrys'alis, pyramid, ritual, rhythm, pretty, busy,
spirit, lyric. Ridicule, chagrin, privilege, situate, mira^
cle; typify, typical; irrigate, tyranny, quilt, capricious.
Litigious, spiracle, mirror, stirrup, chirrup, imjdicit,
masculine, feminine; satiric, panegyric, juvenite, vivacity.
Conduit, forfeit, curtain, marriage, biscuit; captain,
mountain, fountain. (The Italicized letters in the last
eight words have, according to Worcester, an obscure
sound of i.)
8 O : — (as in note; called long o, and marked thus : o). No,
woe, oral, bolster, dome; rogue, drove, host, most, strode
toad; trow, jocose, both. Gross, clothe, roll; cloak, loco¬
motive, fo/k; gold, loth, sloth. Show, strew, sew, stony,
boll; beau, oats, goal, droll; foe, dough, glow, dotard.
Mote, coat, soap; moat, woad, road; oval, cocoa, fur-
1 ough, stone, votive. Snow, yeoman, bourne; gourd, soar,
boat; throat, notion, soldier; coal, portly, force, molten.
Prorogue, poultry, coulter, engross; moulder, hautboy,
depose, whole, curioso, withhold. Revoke, encroach,
brooch; towardly, toward, follow; fellow, trover, olio ;
billow, throe, though, soul. Bu'reau, antelope, froward;
frowardly, o'nyx, poulterer; only, shrove, zodiac; knoll,
wholesale, window, coeval; rondeau, sono'rous, glory
o'asis, cameo, votary, bowsprit.
ft 5 : — (as in not; called short o, and marked thus : o. This
sound is the same as the sound of a in was, which is the
fourth elementary sound shortened). Not, bond, clod,
wad; swath, coffee, was, wan; wallow, sorrow, trode
yacht, chaps, swamp, quash. Goth, moth, froth; cost,
frost, column, toss; vocative, topic, gloss, dross; sorrel
hostile, jocund, fossil, monad, wasp. College, knowledge,
hovel; torrid, solecism, warrant, florid ; monologue, sorry
Quality, halibut, quantity; solve, swap, body, wander,
wanton, swangrovel, squalid, wand; quadrant, conch,
mas'todon, tonic, polygon, forage, quarry, scallop.
10. U: — (as in bull, called middle or obtuse u, and sometimes
marked thus: u. This sound is the same as o in woman
and short oo in good. EC?" Long u, being regarded as a
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
3>
compovM I vowel sound, will be found under that head)
Pttll, fwll, pwt; bulletin, pwss, pwsh, am'bwsh. WowZd
cowZd, ruthless, showZd; wolf, wood, foot. Book, wool
en, hook., look; pwlley, bwlly, filler. Pwlpit, bwtcher,
cushion; sugar (the s like sh), cuckoo, woman, wolsey.
11 00: — (as in fool; the same sound as the o in move and the
u in rude). Lose, woo, prove; who, do, tomb, two,
Cool, rule, ooze, lampoon; loo, boom, rheum, boor, brute;
fruit, ruby, routine, croup, group. Poor, bruit, true,
room, groove; booty, bruise, uncouth ; boon, shoe, loser,
proving, cooper. Moody, monsoon, moon; balloon, druid,
pontoon, accoutre.®1 Brutal, improve, behove; brain,
recruit, suvtout, imbrue. Rural, branette, canoe ; traant,
pradent, broom; souvenir (pronounced soovner); sou¬
chong (pronounced sooshong'); cartouche (pronounced
kartoosh'),
12. U : — (as in. but; called short u, and marked thus: it).
Cub, rull, -nothing, such; dove, brother, dost, doth
Does, done,- none, pulp ; sloven, color, front, son, fun,
tongue, some, honey, blood. Rough, flood, chough, joust;
turret, shovel, young; touch, puppet, punish, mulct,
thorough, study. Comfort, covert, combat; worry, com¬
pass, wonted, couplet. Pommel, borrow, murrain,
money; onion, housewife, double, hurricane; cousin,
southern, hurry. Above, among, enough, sough ; fulmi¬
nant, monk, colander, somerset, covetous, borough.
EXERCISE IL
VOWEL OR CONSONANT SOUNDS.
13, W: - - (as in will. In one, once, the o stands for two sounds,
namely, that of w, and of u short; for the words are
pronounced urun, wunce). Swoon, way, waft, one; once,
woo, wain, wine. Wood, woe, suite (pronounced swet);
choir, quake, thwart. PFormwood, quorum; cuirass,
(pronounced kwe-ras), weather, whether.
f.4. y:—(as in yes). Indian, yawn, youth; «/ield, you. Asia,
million; poniard, odious; yale, yolk, yerk. Pinion,
minion, filial; conciliate, rebellion, vermilion
CONSONANT SOUNDS.
15, h • — (as in hot; an aspirate, or simple breathing. In a
few words in the succeeding exercises, namely, those in
4
38
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
which the letter o follows wk, the sound generally
denoted by A alone is expressed by the two letters wk,
which will be known by both letters being in Italic, as
in whole. If the w is not in Italic, it must have its
proper sound, as in wAale). Perhaps, Aall, Aaunt,
whole/ wAale, Aostler, «>Aoop, wAeat, wAim. WAig, Ay-
dra, exAibit, wAolly, wAimper; co'Aort, Aumble, inAibit/
AartsAorn. InAale, mAolesome, beAest; ve'Aement, an-
niAilate, incompreAensible. (See IF 72).
16. ng-_ (as in kiny/ a nasal consonant sound. In the fol¬
lowing exercises, let it be heard at the letter or letters
in Italic, and at such only. Thus in the word anger,
the n only being Italicized, shows that that single letter
shculd have the sound of ng, as if the word were spelled
ang-ger. But in sinyer, the italicizing of both the n
and g denotes that both letters are embraced in the
sound of ng, thus, sing-er). Gang, spriny, length.,
bank; sink, conch. Beiny, nothing; brinyiny, hang¬
ing. Bobin, robbing; matin, mattiny/ hanyer, anger
sinyer, finger; anguish, longer, younger, congress, con¬
course. Anxious, anchor, banquet. Distinguish, ex
tinguish, unthinkiny, languid, conquest.
17 111: — (a liquid nasal consonant sound, as in man). Blame,
maim, li?nn, limner, gum/ realm, charm, rhythm.
Lamb, comb, caIm; hymn, phleym, dracA/n. Famine,
moment, solemn, tempter. Empty, mammillary, mimic
mammet, column, islamism.
18. 11 : — (a liquid nasal consonant sound, as in not. FC7" Re¬
member, this sound embraces all the letters in Italic:
for instance, in often, three letters come under the sin¬
gle sound of n). Sun, nun, noon; poiynant, poniard,
noun, ynome, stolen. Fallen, swollen, barn/ mourn,
name, poiynancy, ynarl. Deiyn, ynaw, kneel, Anock,
siyn, linen, banner, foreiyn. Lessen, flaxen, basin,
hasten, chasten, frozen. Cousin, reason, deafen,- often,
roughen, even/ unanimous. Given, heathen, shapen,
oaken, wheaten, deaden/ nonentity, pneumatics.
19. 1 — (a liquid consonant sound, as in let. OCT* Remember
that all the Italicized letters in words in this paragraph
must be sounded as if they were represented by I alone
for instance, in groveZ, both the final letters come under
the single sound of I / in chape?, only one). OiZ, Zive,
a 11, owI, marI; Ml, lily, earZ, isle, leave, Zoins. MeZon,
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
35
ZiveZy, fZow, foZZy, lovely, soZace; cas?Ze, axZe, evi*
grove.7, crippZe. AbZe, tackZe, titZe, needZey noveZ, par-
ceZ, chapeZ, modeZ, miracZe, manacZes.
20 I : — (a liquid consonant sound, as in run. See rule, H 77„
m regard to the trilled and untrilled r. In the exer¬
cises of this paragraph, the Italicized letter or letters
have the sound of trilled r). Pray, ray, raw, rAeuni
rear, wrap, wry. Fry, bray, crape; rally, grape, tray;
shrill, throw, remnant, shroud. Shriek, throng, raiment,
r/iubarb, wrestle; frenzy, trumpet, rural, around.
Shrug, enrich; briery, flowery; contrary, lib"ary;
memorandum, regulator, repetition, sudorific.
(In the exercises of this paragraph, the Italicized let¬
ter or letters have the sound of r smooth or untrilled.
See rule, 1177.) Bar, err, fir; rear, nor, cur; bare
here, hire; core, universal, pure, hour. Terse, force,
marsh, scarf, swerve, carve, hearth; pearl, arm, learn
curb. Garb, bark, cart, card, herd; pardon, mercy
virtue, border, warder. Butter, mortgage, coZonel
order, commerce; defer, debar, abhor, affair. Appea*
expire; adore, demure.
EXERCISE III.
COGNATEEI CONSONANT SOUNDS.*
*
21 p : — (aspirate, as in pan). Sharp, pipe, pert; apt, prim,
prater. Hasp, pope, whelp; vamp, pippin, slipper,
By some orthoepists, these coupled consonant sounds are distinguished
t>y the name of breath and voice consonants, instead of aspirate and vocal
The pupil may be taught to perceive how in the former the breath, and in
the latter the voice, is the more exercised. The following list of words
containing alternate aspirate and vocal consonant sounds, divided by
periods, may serve as an appropriate exercise here :
Hiss, hath, sstsh, shot, cap, sack, foot, hushed, hatched, haft. WaU
dwell, your, gang, muse, waves, zeal, dares, age, nerve. — Sapped, packs
tax, speck, asp, sips, posts, cupped, packed, coughed. Bathe, lone/male,
rare, globe, vague, blaze, ranged, mouthed, walled.
Hatchet, puppet, cassock, topic, pocket, tufty. Willow, rosy, languid,
mazes, grandeur, rather. — Skeptic, cestus, chimney, attic, office, cossacks,
coppice. Roman, lovely, moving, bible, jaunty, guardian, glowworm. _
Excess, accost, except, access, expect. Beware, resume, believes, obliged,
absolve. — Assist, coquette, success, affect, suspect. Beneath, farewell,
around, debar, imbue. _ ....
Epithet, execute, suscitate. pickpocket. Wooingly, idolize, lingering,
otherwise. — Catechist, ecstasy, occiput, epitaph. Gradual, libeller, dia¬
logues, eulogy. ,
Specific, exsiccate, ecstatic, auxesis. Remaining, delusion, aurelia,
adorer. — AcStous, apostate, pathetic, facetious. Decorum, erosion, da.
meaner, vermilion.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
proper. Steeple, puritan, populous, turpitude, pabulai
Happy, pilfer, pomp ; puppet, pupil, pap.
22 b • —(vocal, as in bag). CuA, ebb, tuAe ; Aang, bib, gleAe
AaAe, AulA, AarA, Alue, AuAAle. SuccumA, imAue, embark
disAurse, caAal, unblessed, AaAoon. Abrogate, fabulous
eAony; obstacle, AarAarous, AarAican.
23. f — ( aspirate, as in/an). Deaf, of, sphere, ruff, chafe.
calf, laugh, tough, half, graphic, chough, nymph.
RoupA, sylpA, sulpAate, sopAist, fry; pArase, spAinx
/i/th, pro/it, pAeasant, dea/en, roupAen, often. Soften,
hyphen, metapAor, calipA, propAet; draupAt, quajfed,
pAantom. EpitapA, apAorism, pAaeton; pAos'pAorus
/ebri/uge, sympAony; /ire, f ife, tropAy, lympA, pAilter
pampAlet.
24. V : — (vocal, as in van). Pave, weave, hive, grove; haZve
vrwelve, solve, starve, nerve, of. Fever, vain, void*
ravel, grovel, heaven. StepAen, even, given, vivid
valve; votive, nepAew.
25. th: — (aspirate, as in hin). Bah, breatA, breads; patA,
lah, oath, mouth, droutA; widtA, sixtA, eightA, twelftA
WarmtA, trutA, youth, truhs,* youhs; * rhyhm,
tAwart, tAesis; swath, lehe, hule, hank, hink. Thence-
forh, lotA, hundreds, thousfndh, ametAyst; apahy
ortAodox, logaritAms, syndesis, mytA.
26. th : — (vocal, as in hine). WitA, bahe, moutA (when a
verb), breatAe ; litAe, blihe, these; their, though, baths.
Paths, laths, oaths; wither, whiter, moutAs; either,
neither, heathen, northern, father. Hither, with, thither,
henceforth; inwreatAe, bequeah, beneatA, unsheatAe,
booh, boohs.
27. t : — (aspirate, as in tin). Hat, kite, dust, haft, haft,
dreanft, flirt, tight, taught. Hurt, hyme, hames (pro¬
nounced tems), yacht, debt, laced; state, dance/ chafed
Laughed, chopped, droupAt, wrecked, matter; tatter
brittle, victual, ashma, pAhisic. Flourished, crushed^
practised, trespassed, testament; titillate, tantamount
* According to Walker, these words, in the plural, should have the aspi
ratt sound of th, as in thin ; although path, oath, and many similar words,
have, in the plural, the vocal sound ot th, as in (Ais. See IT 80.
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
4l
ZuZelar. MaZe, ZesZaZor, ZempZaZion, indicZmenZ, aZZain-
menZ; inZesZaZe, replenished.
28. d: — (yocs!., as in tZin). Be«Z,_ dead, did, made, grazed;
hedged, judged, saved, writhed, walled. Charmed, paved,,
heard, ebbed, rigged; -would, couId, shou/d, rivalled
modest, pedant. Udder, deadly, bdellium, harangwed4
abridged, adjudged; encaged, condemned, fatig?<ed.
29. k : — (aspirate, as in Aind). SeeA, cake, chyle; cAi-mera,
coke, pacA, tacA ; sceptic (also spelled sceptic), eke, talk.
FoZA, lough, chameleon, pi que, dark ;" milA, sparer, Aeen,
cAaos, cAlorine, cAord. TecAnical, cAoir, quay, pen'ta-
teucA, scraggy, clocA ; arcAives, clicA, quake, clear, puirA,
panic ; comic, quiver, tro'cAee, Aingdom, scAedule, can¬
did, c/ioler, conquer, licAen. Flaccid, macAiavel'lian
collocate, cAristian; or'cAestra, cucumber, catecAu'men
epocA (pronounced ep'ok or epok). Conqueror, arcA'etype,
guicA; vaccinate, siccity, disticA, concA; te'trarcA,
juoth, sy-nec'docAe, hem'isticA, cAi'romancy, mecAanism,
arcAangel, cAalced'ony.
30 g:— (vocal, as in yun). Bay, key, egg, gag, yamuj;
-plague, vague, rogue, brogue, yimp. Fuywe, reyatta,
yzzide, yuise, year; yird, yiy, yAost, insiy'nia, guer¬
don, buryA, yiyyle. Rayyed, crayyy, yibbous, yiddy,
yibber, yimlet, yibcat, yAostly. Younyer, yibberish,
yAerkin; physioynomy, anyer, finper, lonyer, scrayyy
oppuynancy.
ii
31. S : — (aspirate as in sin. Let the aspirate hissing sound
be heard at the letter or letters in Italic. Thus,
scAisrr. is to be pronounced sizm, hasten, ha'-sn.
DC/5'Where x occurs, it includes two sounds, those of A
and s) Gas, mass, dose; mace, griefs, laughs ; months,
verse, dupes, packs, lax, styx. Hosts, fists, ghosts,
soul, cell, scene; scAism, psalm, apsis, thesis, question.
Tacit, pincers, flaccid ; sceptre, science, psalmist; psyche
(pronounced si'ke), hasZen. ChasZen, beside, desists,
design, obese; verbose, rescind, dissuade, finance'. Her¬
esy, poesy, chersonese; precedent (pre-cedent, when an
adjective; prec'edent, when a noun); vaccinate, siccity
scimitar, scintillate.
32. Z : (vocal, as in zeal. (C7* Where x occurs in the fol-
4*
42
^ THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
lowing words, it includes two sounds, those of g and z
as in exert: but anxiety is pronounced ang-zi-e-tey)
Maze, blaze, as, has, is; was, ways, venison, views
seas; songs, caves, moves, baths, solecism, oaths.
Bathes, oreathes, balls, domes; weasand, pains, bars,
babes, plagues; commas, dances, prices, prizes, ho*ses;
suffuse, seissAs. Noisy, brazen, mizzen, basilisk, raisin;
cousin, puzzle, weasel, resume, absolves, observes. Hus«
sars, exert; basil'icon, exist; exempt, possess; discern
suffice; president, metaphrase, mechanism, sacrifice
Tillages, disposal, refusal, disloyal; com'plaisant, xeno>
phon, com'plaisance, luxuriant, anxiety.
h 4 sh: — (aspirate, as in sAine. 0s* Where x occurs in the
following words, it indicates the included sound of A
preceding sh). Sash, sAall, shudder, cAagrin; strove,
shrink, sure, marsh, ocean, chevalier; charade, match,
chaise. Censure, deficient, scrubby; chivalry, par'a
cAute, sugar; nauseous, pension, passion; chicane,
nation, captious, conscious, scutcAeon. MacAine, capu-
cAin', musician, assure; sAowery, fluxion, sAawm; pacha
cAarlatan, bathsAeba, lotion. Computation, farinaceous
flexion; martial, testaceous, crucifixion; surreptitious
special, specious, adventitious, modisA, condition, cassia.
hi. Z:—(vocal, as in azure). Razure, clausure, leisure;
roseate, fusion, osier; rouye, treasure, measure, vision.
Persuasion,.adhesion, ambrosial, explosion; confusion,
decision, collision, transition.
EXERCISES ON THE COMPOUND SOUNDS.
EXERCISE IY.
-COMPOUND VOWEL SOUNDS.
1. 1 : — (as in pine; called long i, and marked thus: %. See
H 36. In the following exercises let a very slight sound
of e be heard where the comma is placed after k or g).
Time, type, trite, diet, vinous; finite, mind, sign, rive,
pint; isle, buy, eye, cycle, Ugh, heiyAt.EI Rye, writhe,'
proselyte, aisle; sk'y, viaduct, k'ind, piebald, idyl;
g'ttide, sleight, siren, exile, viol, society, island. G Vile'
dyer, ch'na, viscount; satisfy, anodyne, shrive, fe'line,'
EXERCISES ON THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
4*
supine'; papyrus, pyre, buyer, apply, ally, • mank'ind,
Ori'on, condiyn, g'uise, beniyn, defies; stipend, replied,
saline, indict, oblige, satiety. Beg'uile, vine, canine,
heliacal, maniacal; paradisiacal, hypochondriacal, se'nile,
awry, bias, twilight, lithe. Crocodile, parasite, maliyn •
car'mine, columbine, sinecure; tripod, dynasty, satellite,
hyperbole, bary'tes, recondite, acclivous, aspi'rant.
2 U : ■— (as in mule, called long u, and marked thus ' u. See
IT 42 in regard to the introduction of this sound after I
and r). Cube, tube, res'idue, tune; duke, feud, dew,
new, neutral, renewal, hue, suit. View, tutor, pewter,
scorbu'tic, beauty; feudal, eulogy, repute, abuse, im-
puyn ; steward, skewer, reduce. Tuesday, imbue, newt
pursuit; institution, produce, ret'inue, constitute, sinew ,
pur'lieu, oppuyn, curfew, mildew, argue, sue ; bitw'men,
bituminous, penitatewch, gubernatorial, caesu'ra, cu'rule
minw'tise.
3. OU — (as in house). Loud, bound, nrun; bout, shout
thou; -plough ( or plow), now, flout, drought, bow
Brown, bounteous, fountain; doughty, droughty, thou¬
sand ; vowel, powder, dowry, vouch, couch. Astound
propound, arouse; cowslip, without, endow; renown
cloudy, browse; sour, shower, ounce; lounge, vouchsafe.
4. 01 : — (as in voice). Choice, oil, broil, point; joint, join,
poise, coin; quoin, noise, poison, toy. Boy, joy, doit,
quoit, troy; buoy, employ, embroil. Appoint, aroynt,
avoid, alloy, coif; boiler, decoy, spoil, recoil, hoist, royal.
Toil, oyster, burgeois; moiety, embroider, foible; toil
sonie, jointure, anoint.
COMPOUND CONSONANT SOUNDS.
1. ch: — (an aspirate sound, as in chest). March, much, chair,
mis'cAievous, each, vouch, truncheon; milcA, chamber*"
cAill, incA Attach, cAampion, righteous, charity, niche ,
beach, ancho'vy, scorch. Touc^edst, cAalk, watch
satchel, chin, check, charming.
2. j : — (a vocal sound, as in yest). Peryure, yelid, refuye;
jejune, soldier, bulye, reyistry, aye, doye, y'ade, huye.
Obliyed, jar, gem, gin, yibbet; divulyed, exchanyed,
suyyest, yyration, yinyer. Staye, yymnastic, gyre, gyve,
yypsum; yibe, yir'andole, y'ungle, asyis, yist, yelatin;
yiraffe, yilly-flower, yiblets, yirond'ist, yyr-falcon, yemi-
ni, yecponics, yerund, gymndtus, genet.
44
the standard fourth reader.
LESSON VIII.
MODIFIED VOWEL SOUNDS, SILENT VOWELS, E1C„
106. It has been seen in Lesson II. that there are certain modifica¬
tions of the vowel sounds, produced chiefly by their relations to the
liquid consonant sound r and to accent. The short sounds of th«
vowels a, e, i, o,u, y (which is the sound they have when marked
thus, a, e, 1, o, u, y), have a decided change when followed by r in
a monosyllable or in an accented syllable, unless the succeeding
syllable begins with the sound of r.*
107. For example, pronounce the following words: far, hard ;
her, herd ; fir, firkin ; nor, north ; fur, burden ; myrrh, myrtle : the
sound of the several vowels in these words is different from their reg¬
ular short sound in the following: arrow, merry, mirror, sorry, curry y
lyric. In these last, the r has the same effect on the previous vowel
that any other consonant would have; that is to say, it stops, or ren¬
ders^ the vowel essentially short. But under other circumstances
final r is not a decided consonant, and the vowel sounds in ar, er, ir,
or, ur, are not the same as those in at, et, it, ot, ut This will explain
why the sound of e in err should differ from that of e in erring
(rhyming with herring); the u in occurrence from the u in occur.
But many formatives follow their primitives ; as stir, stirring.
108. In the pase of short a, this modified vowel sound is the same
as the first elementary sound (called Italian a) as in father, far. In
the case of short o, this modified sound (called, in reference to o,
broad o) is the same as broad a, or the fourth elementary sound in
fall; as, nor, form, &c.
109. In the case of the other short sounds, e, $, u, y, this modi¬
fied sound, produced by the letter r, is called their short and obtuse
sound ; and there is little difference in the sound given to all four of
these vowels thus modified, as in the following words : her, fir, fur,
myrrh.
110. The long sound of a (as in fate) is also modified by r, as in
care, fare, dare; in which words the vowel a has the same sound as
the diphthongs ai in'fair, and ea in pear. The difference between the
sound of a in the word care and its sound in the word payer will
illustrate the distinction here made.
Ill A class of vowel sounds, occurring generally in unaccented
* The only exceptions are in adjeotives derived from substantives ending
in r, as starry ; and tarry (when it means besmeared with tar), &o. ; „»nd
certain participles which follow their primitives.
modified vowel sounds, silent vowels, e1c. 43
syllables, have received the name of obscure. The vowels tnat pre¬
cede the unaccented r in friar, speaker, elixir, nadir, mayor, actor,
martyr, &c., might, with respect to sound, he as well written friur,
epeakur, elixur, &c. The Italicized vowels in the following words,
intricate, palace, countenance, minute (when a noun), abonou "<ble,
&c., have an obscure sound. The sound of a, when an indefinite
article, is generally obscured ; also that of e in the; although many
orthoepists mark the e in this word as long.
112. In obscuring a vowel sound, in words of more than one sylla¬
ble, we simply make it, by a few shades, less decidedly the sound
which it would be if the syllable in which it occurs were accented
For example, in the word tyrant, if the last syllable were accented
instead of the first, we should give to the a the precise sound of a in
man. But as the syllable in which a here occurs is not the accented
syllable, we obscure the a, simply because we gain in ease and'
rapidity of utterance by so doing.
113. Let it not be supposed, however, that every unaccented sylla
ble has its vowel sound obscured. There should be a proper discrim¬
ination here. In the following words the Italicized vowel sounds in
the unaccented syllables ought not to be obscured: motto, hero,
thorough; Borrow, fellow, window; barrow;, crocodile, profane;
cohere, opposite, syllogism; domestic, apology, philosophy; philol-
ogy, goodness, anthem; dividend, engraver, deputy; vigd, emwlate,
educate ; humane, augury, statue; virtue, obsolete, council, latin;
urchin, monument, genuine; decency, appetite, desolate, &c.
114. In such words as the following, the vowel which we Italicize
may be obscured in the pronunciation: * abase, abound, amaze;
cabal, data, comma; villa, china, umbrella; diploma, enigma; hus¬
band, verbal, compass; ribald, interval, equally; instantly, penalty,
valiantly; temperance, countenance, nobleman ; command, conduce,
complete ; parrot, blossom, cherub ; nation, felon, demon ; unison,
myrmidon, marmalade ; laudanum, skeleton, feasible; grammar, rob¬
ber, nadir ; martyr, author, sulphur; acre, lustre, falter ; dignitary,
assemblage, profligate ; manor, murmur, satyr.
115. An attempt to avoid this obscurity in certain words, and to
give to unaccented vowels a precise sound, often leads to a formal and
* Most of the vowel sounds of a and o here obscured should, according to
some orthoepists, have the regular short sounds of a in man, o in est, &o
But present polite usage, both in England and in this country, is decidedly
■xtverse to any such precision in the enunciation of this class of sounds,
although Walker's authority may favor it.
46
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
stiff mode of utterance. But in obscuring the vowel sounds, A) not
fall into the opposite error of perverting them. For instance, in
uttering the word husband, do not make the a degenerate into ut, in
avoiding the stiffness of too close an adherence to the sound of a in
hat. See remarks in the note on page 19.
116. The sound classed by modern orthoepists as intermediate a
lies betwen the short sound of a in fat and the Italian a in father.
Intermediate a occurs in a class of words in frequent use, to which
class belong the following : advance, after, alas, ask, basket, com¬
mand, clasp, class, dance, dastard, glass, waft, mastiff, pass, &c.
The a in these words should not be pronounced as broadly as the a
in father ; nor should it have the precise short sound of a in man,
fat.
117. We have seen (^[ 33 and 34) that e is often mute or un¬
sounded, especially at the ends of words. The final letters le, and
often also el and era, are pronounced without any distinct vowel
sound ; as in bib/e, thist/e, able, tab/e, drive/, biddera, dozera, heaven,
&c.; pronounced biVl, bidden, &c. The same peculiarity attaches tc
the le and era in the following aud some similar words: peop/ed,
brid/ed, sadd/ed, trif/es, christeraed, hastened, saddened, &c. ; pro¬
nounced pee-pVd, bri-dl'd, tri-Jlz, sad-d'n, &c. It has been seen,
however, (Tf 33) that there are a number of words in which the
sound of e in el and era should be retained. Always, when in doubt,
consult the dictionary.
Questions. —106. What consonant letter modifies the short sounds of the vowels ?
107. Illustrate the effect of r. 108. What effect does it have on short a and o ? 109. In
the case of the other short vowels, what are they called when they come under this influ¬
ence of r f 110. Is the long sound of a affected when followed by r I 111, 112. What
is meant by obscure vowel sounds ? 113. Are vowels in unaccented syllables always
.'bscured ? 114. Mention some words in which the vowel may be obscured- 115. What
jare ought to be taken in obscuring vowel sounds ? 116. What is said of intermediate
a 117. Of the final letters le and en I
LESSON IX.
SIMPiiE CONSONANT SOUNDS, AND COMBINATIONS.
118. In the following Exercise, the consonant sounds occur in their
order in the Table on page 18, and though they are given with only
one vowel letter, it is intended that they should be sounded with all
the vowel sounds in their order in the same Tabic. For example, a
is to be first sounded, throughout the entire Exercise, like the a in
father ; then, like the a in fat, &c.; and after the sounds of a have
SIMPLE CONSONANT SOUNDS. AND COMBINATIONS.
41
been enounced, the fifth elementary sound, the sixth, seventh, eighth
ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth, and the fijst, second, third and
fourth compound vowel sounds, are to be practised®1 in the same way.
119. Should the pupil, from having only one representative vowel
letter before his eye in the text, be backward in applying the various
vowel sounds to the consonant combinationsKI given in the following
Exercise, let him write out on a slate the same series of consonant
combinations, changing the vowel letter as may be required, and
numbering its sound according to the Table on page 18. Thus, when
the eleventh elementary sound is to be practised, let him substitute
oo for a in the following combinations, wa, ya, ha, ah, ang, ma, am-
&c., writing instead of them, woo, yoo, hoo, ooh, oong, moo, oom,
&c. ; and place the number 11 over the Exercise, to show which
elementary vowel sound is under consideration.
120. The first elementary sound (that of a in father) should first
be given to the vowel throughout the following Exercise. "Where
the r is Italicized, it is to be trilled, according to the rule in Tf 77 ;
where it is not Italicized, it is to have its smooth sound. Where
th is Italicized, it is to have its vocal sound (the 20th elementary
sound) as in ^Aine. Where th is not Italicized, it is to have its aspi¬
rate sound, as in ^Ain. Where z is Italicized, it is to have the sound
it has in azure. Where z is not Italicized, it is to have the sound
it has in zeal. G has the Bound it has in ^rive; ch, its sound in
cAest.
Exercise Y.—Wa, ya; ha, ah; ang; ma, am, mam; na,
an, nan; la, al, lal; ar, ra; pa, ap, pap; ba, ab, bab : fa, af,
fafva, av, vav: tha, ath, thath; tha, a th, thath: ta, at, tat;
da, ad, dad: ka, ak, kak; ga, ag, gag: sa, as, sas; za, az, zaz:
sha, ash, shash; za, az, zaz: cha, ach, chach; ja, aj, jaj.
121. The preceding combinations may be practised with much
advantage ; and they may be so varied as to afford a great variety of
exercise in articulation, by compounding them as if to form words,
and then changing the arrangement of the syllables and the accents:
thus, in the combination ip'-it-ik-if, the arrangement may be varied
to it-if-ik-ip, &c. The black-board and the slate will be found ser¬
viceable in multiplying these exercises. Give to the following the
first sound of the several vowels first; then the second, &c.
Exercise YI. — Ap-at-ak; if-ith-iss-ish; eb-ed-eg; iv-itn-iz-
iz; il-im-in-ing; ep-et-ek; op-ot-ok; ta-ka, fa-£Aa, da-ga, ba-
da-ga, pap-tat-kak; pa-fa; tha-sa; pa-fa-pa; pa-fa-fa-pa ; ba-
48
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
va-ma-pji-wa; lil-nin; lil-nin-lil; nin-lil-nin , nillin-rinnel; rilliu«
linnel; pip-tit-kik-shish; sis-thith-fif; bib-did-gig-zig; thith-
yiv-lil-nim; thitt-itt-thitt ; ra-ar-rar; sha-tha-sa; sha-sa-tha;
tha-sa-sha; tha-sha-sa, &c.
122. In the following Exercise on combinations11 of consonant
sounds let the word containing the combination first be distinctly
enounced, and then the combination by itself, until practice shall
make the enunciation easy. Thus, at the beginning, let the word
doomed be enounced, and then that portion of it only which is repre¬
sented by the letters md. The initialEI portions of the consonant
combinations are here given in the order which the consonant sounds
occupy in the Table on page 18. Where an apostrophe is placed in
the examples, a letter that ought to be unsounded is omitted.
EXERCISE VII.
COMBINATIONS OF CONSONANT SOUNDS.
jMd, mdst,mz, mp: doorrdd, doow'^, tombs, imp.
mps, mt, mts, mf: imps, attempt, prompts, ny mph.
mst, mpst, mfs, mtst: com'st, thumfst, triumphs, prompt si.
nd, ndz, ndst, nj: send, sends, send'st. range,
njd, nz, ngd, ngdst: ranged, fins, hang'd, hanfdst.
ngz, ngth, ngths, ngk: hangs, length, lengths, wink.
ngkt, ngks, ngkst, nt: wink'd, sirens, sink'st, tannt.
nts, ntst, ns, nst: taunts, tannfst, wi nee, ca nst.
nth,nthz, nch, ncht, nsh: plinth, months, flinch, flinch,d, avalanche
lb, Ibd, Ibz, Id: butt, buIVd, buZfe, hold.
Idz, Idst, Ij, Ijd: hold's, hoId'st, bulge, buIg'd.
Im, Imd, Imz, In: whelm, whelrrdd, whelms, faWn.
In, Ivd, Ivz, Iz: shelve, shelved, shelves, halls.
Ik, Iks, Ikt, Ikts: si Ik, silks, mulet, mulcts.
Ip, Ipt, Ips, Ipst: help, help'd, helps, helfist.
It, Its, Itst, If: halt, ha Its, ha Wst, gulf.
Ifs, I ft, Is, 1st: gulfs, delft, false, fa Wst.
Ith, Iths, Ich, Icht: health, healths, filch, hlctid.
rb, rbst,rbd, rbdst: barb, barest, barVd, barb'dst.
*rbz, rd, rdst, rdz: barbs, heard, heard'st, herds,
rg, rgz, rj, rjd: burgh, burghs, urge, urg'd.
fi, rlst, rid, rldst: hurZ, hurZ's?, hurVd, hurVdit.
rlz. rm, rmst, rmd : hurZs, warm, warm'st, w irm'd.
rmdst, rmz, rmth, rn: warmldst, warms, war mth, bum,
rnst, rnd, rndst, rnt: burn'st, burned, burrtHdst, bur»f
*nz, rv, rvst. rvd : burns, curve, curv'st, curvd.
COMBINATIONS OF CONSONANT SOUNDS.
49
rvdst, rvz, rz, rk: curvdst, curves, wares, hark.
rks, rkst, rkt, rktst: harks, hark'st, hark'd, hark'dst.
rp, rps, rpst, rpt: harp, harps, harp'st, harp'd.
rptst, rtj rts, rtst: harp'dst, hurt, hurZs, hurfst.
rf, rft, rfs, rs: turf, turfd, turfs, purse.
rst, rsts, rth, rths: burs?, bursZs, hearth, hearths
rsh, rch, rcht: harsh, march, march'd.
pi, plst, pld, pldst :* pluck, ripple, rippVst, rippl'd, rippl'dst.
plz, pr, pt, pts: rippies, prim, crypt, crjpts.
ps, pst, pth, pths : whips, whipp'st, depth, depths.
bd, bdst, hi, hist: robb'd, daub'dst, black, trouAZe, trouAZ's?.
bid, bldst, biz, br: troubl'd, troubl'dst, troubles, Arim.
bz, bst: probes, prop's? ; robs, robb'st.
fl, fist, fid, Jldst: flame, trifle, tri fl'st, trifVd, trijVdst.
fr, ft, fts, ftst: /rown, waft, wafts, waft'st.
fs, fit, fth, fths : laughs, laud's?, fifth, fifths.
vd, vdst, vl, vlst: liv'd, liv'dst, drir'Z, driv'Vst.
vld, vldst, viz, vn: drivTd, driv'l'dst, driu'Zs, drir'w.
vnz, vnth, vz, vst: heaw'zts, elev'nth, lires, liu's?.
thn (th aspirate), thnd, thnz: strengZA'w, strengih'vSd, streng?A'n«.
tht, thndst, ths, thr : betroth'd, length'n'dst, truths, throb.
thd (th vocal), thz, thst: wreath'd, wreaths, wreath'st.
tl, tlst, tld, tldst: settle, settl'st, settl'd, settl'dst.
tlz, tr, ts, tst: set ties, Zrust, combaZs, combat's?.
dl, dlst, dlz, dn: kin die, kin dl'st, kin dies, har d'n.
dnst, dnd, dndst, dnz : hard'n'st, hard'n'd, hard'n'dst, hard'ns,
dr, dz, dst, dth, dths: dread, deeds, didst, breadth, breadths.
kl, klst, kid, kldst: true hie, true kl'st, true kVd, true kVdst.
klz, kn, knst, knd: truckles, black'n, black'n'st, black'n'd.
kndst, knz, kr: blaek'ndst, black'ns, crime.
kt, kts, ks: rocked, acts; racks, axe, six
yd, gdst, gl, gist .• fagg'd, fagg'dst, glow, mangle, mangl'st.
yld, gldst, glz, gr: manpZ'eZ, mangl'dst, mangles, grim.
gz, gst: erags, logs, wags ; rigg'st, di^'sZ.
si, slst, sld, sldst. slay, nestle, nestl'st, nesZZ'tZ, nestl'dst.
slz, sm, sn, snz: nestles, smoke, sneer, bas'n, bas'ns.
sk, skt, sks, skst: s&ip, masA, mask'd, masks, mask'st.
skr, sp, spt, sps, sf: screw, spot, clasp, clasp'eZ, clasps, sphere.
spr, spl, st, sts, str: spring, splash, slay, insisZs, sZreet.
zd, zl, zlst, zld: amaz'd, muzzle, muzzl'st, muzzl'd.
zldst, zlz, zm, zmz: muzzl'dst, muzzles, chasm, chasms.
zn, znst, znd, zndst: pris'rc, reas'jist, reas'n'd, reas'n'dst.
thr, sht, cht, jd: shrink, push'd, fetch'd, urg'd.
* The Ornate Consonant Sounds commence with p and b, and arc alto*
natelv aspirate and vocal. See IT 24.
b
50
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
123. Tne following lists contain examples of nearly all the termi-
national11 syllabic combinations of English consonants. They ara
arranged in the order of their quantitative E1 duration, — the shortest
first. They should be practised13 till they can be enounced w(ith clear¬
ness and ease. The pupil will drop his voice at the semicolon and
dash.*
EXERCISE Yin.
I. ASPIRATE CONSONANT SOUNDS.
Step, shape, fit, site, ark, black; — if, laugh, path, both, miss,
gas, wash; — help, felt, wilt, milk, elk, tent, aunt, lamp, jump,
dreamt, tempt, ink, bank; *— self, gulf, golf, health, wealth,
else, pulse, Welsh, ninth, plinth, once, dance, nymph, strength,
length; *— apt, leaped, tripped, act, walked, baked ; — steps,
whips, depth, boats, feats, eighth, watch, search, ox, axe, backs,
corks; — left, puffed, wasp, fast, guessed, ask; — safes, life's,
fifth, death's, broths;—gulped, milked, stamped, inked, banked,
succinct; *— alps, whelps, bolts, waltz, belch, milch, bulks, silks,
prints, chants, French, inch, imps, romps, tempts, shrinks,
thanks; *— ingulfed, lail'st, tell'st, against, mean'st, feign'st,
dream'st, com'st, sing'st, bring'st; *—gulfs, sylphs, healths,
tenths, plinths, nymphs, lengths; *— adepts, Copts, acts, sects,
expects; — shap'st, hop'st, sat'st, got'st, patched, broached
look'st, next; — efts, thefts, asps, costs, wastes, asks, desks,
husks; — fifths; — twelfths ; * — help'st, halt'st, filched, milk'st,
want'st, hint'st, blenched, flinched, limp'st, attempt'st, think'st,
drank'st; * — texts; — sixths.
II. VOCAL CONSONANT SOUNDS.
Babe, mob, bad, trade, egg, plague; — leave, of, with, bathe
ease, as, buzz,rouge; — ale, ell, isle, am, hymn, on, sing, tongue*
— alb, bulb, old, willed, build, rhomb, hemmed, and, finned,
hanged, bunged; — delve, evolve, ells, palls, aims, comes, bronze,
ens, longs, pangs ; — ribbed, stabbed, begged, wigged; — cabs,
tubs, adze, heads, odds, edge, budge, eggs, lags; — saved, lived,
seethed, writhed, grazed, used, rouged; — graves, loaves, withes,
bathes ; — helm, film, culm (see 1[ 154); — bulged ; bulbs,
folds, builds, bilge, rhumbs, lands, finds, fringe, change; —
delved, involved, bronzed; — shelves; — helmed; — films;
judged, besieged; — bilged, changed, hinged.
* In the words marked with an asterisk, liquids occur before the aspirate
consonant sounds. See the terms liquid, aspirate and vocal, in the Explana¬
tory Index.
COMBINATIONS OF CONSONANT SOUNDS — ACCENT.
51
III. MIXED CONSONANT SOUNDS."
Brib'st, stabb'st, bidd'st, add'st, midst, begg'st, tugg'st; —
Oreadth, width, wav'st, leav'st, giv'st, striv'st, sooth'st; —
hold'st; — delv'st, solv'st. (All verbs ending in p or k have the
sounds of pt and Jet in the past tense, as stopped, walked, &c
See II152.) Apt, strict, strap^ec?, kept, slept, whipped, shipped
lopped, cupped, shaped, steeped, piped, hoped, cooped, chapter,
styptic, reptile, rapture, captain; act, tact, sect, erect, strict,
hacked, shocked, ducked, poked, looked, walked, ached, leaked,
liked, oaetus, lacteal, affected, lecture, picture, dictate, instruct*
ive, octave, doctor.
Questions. —118. What is said of the fifth Exercise ? 119. What mode of practice
is lecommended in it ? What do you mean by combinations of consonant sounds ? 120.
What is signified in the fifth Exercise by the Italicizing of the r, the tk and x t 121.
How'may the combinations be varied? 122. What mode of practice is suggested far
the seventh Exercise ? What is meant by the word initial I
EXERCISE IX.»
accent.
1. Dissyllables. — Accent the first syllable in the following:
Acid, airy, aspect; brawny, bushel, buttress; caper, carpet, cir¬
cle; destine, dogma, doctrine; downmost, gorgeous, greedy;
household, madman, master; mighty, morning, murder; noisy,
pgtrel, quickest; rifle, satrap,1w shorten; tribune, wherefore,M
wither; woodland, yellow, zealot.
Accent the second syllable of the following: Abate, arcade,
beneath (the th vocal, as in thm^j; beware, bespread, cajole;
coerce, collapse, defy; degrade, revolt,®1 derange; elate, engraft,
foment; foredoom, forgive, ignore; assume, jocose, 'obtuse*
peruse (see IT 42), pretext, prolix.
2. Trisyllables. — Accent the first syllable of the following
Amity, asinine, aspirate; archetype (see IT 68), banishment,
bookseller; carpenter, circumstance, chivalrous (the ch of this
word has the thirty-third elementary sound; see page 18);
dangerous, desert-place, dogmatize; doubtfully, drollery, ebony;
enemy, equable, equerry; expletive, febrifuge, finical; filament,
fishmonger, forgery; giddiness, impotent, interest; integral,
invalid (when a noun), liberty (the er as in her), loiterer; mis¬
chievous, misanthrope, notary; oasis, octuple, petrify; plethora,
* The reader should review Lesson VI., and read paragraphs 14 and 1j
cnlwiiiig ufvn this ICxsroiso*
52
the standard fourth reader.
quizzical resonant; retrograde, retina, sorcery (the o sounded
like o in for); terrible, tortuous, transmigrate ; virulent, vicin¬
age, vocative; voluble, woodpecker, zodiac.
Accent the second syllable of the following: Aroma, ban¬
dana, cbivalric (the ch has the thirty-third elementary sound ;
see . page 18); decorous, ebullient, elastic; fanat'ic, gener'ic,
hiatus ; insipid, invalid (when an adjective); lieutenant, lyceum,
mandamus; museum, pantheon, refulgent; remember, resolvent,
syllab'ic, triumvir, vicegerent.
Accent the last syllable of the following: Astracan, appre¬
hend, amateur (the eur like the ur in concwr); barricade, chan¬
delier, chevalier ( the ch of these two words has the thirty-third
elementary sound; see page 18); contradict,estafette,flageolet;
Hindostan, interpose, interrupt; masquerade, overrate, presup¬
pose, reprehend; supersede, superstruct, transmarine; violin,
vinaigrette, volunteer.
Polysyllables. — The following have the accent on the first
syllable: Bibliopole, comparable, costermonger, cursorily, des¬
picable, elevated, explicable, February, gentlemanly, haber¬
dasher, hortatory, intimately, jaculatory, lamentably, literary,
meditative, missionary, necessary, ordinarily, parti-colored, petti¬
fogger, plausibleness, recreative, repertory, serviceable, specula¬
tive, corollary, temperament, tributary, understrapper, vacillancy,
watermelon.
Accent the following on the second syllable: Anathema, an¬
nuitant, carnivorous, catastrophe, communicative, contemporary,
depillatory, disinterestedness, economy, executive, impracticable,
-irrefragable, metonymy, observatory, omnipotent, reticulated,
revivify, salutatory, satiety, somniferous, significant, superfluous,
voraginous, zodiacal.
Accent the following on the third syllable: Antemundane,
aphoristically, apoplectic, atmospherical, bacchanalian, caryatides,
coadjutor, contradictorily, hypochondriac, ignominiously, medi¬
ocre,111 sacerdotal, superciliously, therapeutics, topographically,
unimaginative, valedictory, zoological.
Accent the following on the fourth syllable: Abecedarian,
antipathetic, antiscorbutic, apocalyptic, arboriculture, circum-
stantiality, disadvantageously, epigrammatic, genealogical, hypo¬
chondriacal, legerdemain, mediatorial, plenipotentiary, superin-
tendency.
Accent the following on the accentuated111 syllable : Apocalyp'-
tical, archiepis'copacy (see 11 68), antipestilen'tiai, intercolumnia'
fcion, incoagulability, incommunicabil'ity, ipecacuan'ha, isoperi-
mct'rical, impersonifica'tion, superfolia'tion.
EAULTS IN ARTICULATION. ETC.
LESSON X.
FAULTS IN ARTICULATION, ETC.
1. A, able, ai, al, an, ance, ar, aw, ay, fyc.
12-4. A course of thorough drilling in the preceding exercises -will
obviate a large majority of those faults in articulation and pronun¬
ciation to which pupils are most liable. We will here specify, how
ever, some of the most ordinary and obvious faults.*
125. The sound of a, instead of being merely obscured, is some¬
times dropped altogether, by careless speakers, in such words as val¬
uable, gradual, separate, usually, vocative, unrivalled, library, com¬
pany, amiable, &c.: erroneously pronounced valw'ble, gradit'l, sep'
rate, usu'lly, &c.
126. The final a in such words as villa, comma, America, Cuba,
&c., must not he pronounced as if it were ar. The proper sound is
an obscure sound of the a in father ; but the attempt to make it too
positively such, will lead to error. Do not slur the final a in idea,
making the jvord idee.
127. The short sound of a in bade, catch, gather, rather, &c.,
should not be perverted into long a or short e. Do not mispronounce
the diphthong ai in such words as saith,again, &c. (pronounced seth,
agen, &c.). Practise the Exercises on the sixth elementary sound,
page 35.
128. Able, al, an, ance, ant, ants, as unaccented syllables, should
generally have the sound of short a slightly obscured. Do not per¬
vert the sound into that of short u. Do not say mettle for metal.
129. Concerning the sound of long a before r, see Tf 110. The
sound should be distinguished both from short a in hat and from lorg
a in hate. In such words as care, fare, parent, apparent, transparent, ■
daring, transparency, scare, scarce, sharing, &c., the a should un¬
doubtedly have this modified long sound produced Iby the r.f
* Some writers seem to have racked their ingenuity to invent vicious
f rnis of articulation and pronunciation for the purpose of warning pupils
against them. More mischief than benefit has resulted in practice from
this, superfluous extension of the catalogue of faults.
f Webster has followed Walker in marking the a long in this class of
words. But it is difficult to find the speakers, either in England or the
United States, who pay any heed to the notation ; who pronounce care, foi
instance, as if it were cay-er; pear, as if it were pay-er, &c. There are
Borne who say pa-rent, and appa-rent; but these do not follow Webster's syl¬
labication of the words, which is thus : par-era, appar-ent.
5*
34
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
130. The sound of short a before r in carry, barrel arrogant
arrow, &c., must not be confounded with the sound which the vowel
has in farmer, hardly, largely, anarchy, &c. See If 107.
131. Do not give the sound of ah to the ar in star, mar, large,
parlor, &c. Remember that r is always sounded. Do not say swoms
for swarms, scusly for scarcely. Do not give to the a in such words
as epistolary, temporary, the sound of long a instead of short a
obscured.
132. Bad readers sometimes prolong the termination aw. pervert¬
ing it into awr. Thus they will say lawr, flawr, sawr, &c. They
will also take an unwarrantable liberty with the ay in always, per
verting it into alwwz. Avoid such blunders.
2. E, ea, ear, ee, el, en, ence, ent, ess, er, ew, fyc,
"133. The sound of long e in deceit, conceit, &c., should not be
perverted into long a. Do not say yallow for yellow, ^cwllar for cel¬
lar, forgit for forget, yit for yet, git for get, instid for instead, brwth-
run for brethren, kittle for kettl^ childerra for children, kinder^ for
kindred, hundere? for hundred, boird for beard, ferful for fearful,
heerd for heard (pronounced herd), ben for been (pronounced bin), &c.
134. We have seen, from ^f 33, that the sound of e in terminations
in el and en is sometimes dropped. Be careful to distinguish between
the words in which it is dropped and those in which it is retained.
When in doubt, consult the dictionary. Do not sound e before n or
I in heaven, seventh, drivel, driven, and a large class of verbs and
participles. Practise the Exercises on the eighteenth elementary
sound, page 38.
135. In unaccented terminations in ence, ens, ess, est, ent and ents,
let the sound of short e (as in pet) be rendered as distinctly as it can
be without stiffness and transposition of the accent. Say diffidence,
"slovens, goodness, highest, banishment, incidents, &c. Practise the
Exercises upon the sixth elementary sound, page 35.
136. The sounds of er and ern, in unaccented syllables, are liable
to be slighted or mispronounced. Give to the Italicized letters of the
following words the sound of er in her, neatly and easily, and with¬
out changing the poise of the accent: several, poverty, govern,
mightier, government, soberness, funeral, power, generally, taverns,
western, en'ergy, waver, rover, interview. Avoid the barbarism of
saying sarcn for search, withud for withered, chambwz for chambers,
dif'rent for different, ye-wz for years, flow-wz for flowers, ferce for
tierce (the ie like long e), noo, doo, for new, dew.
FAULTS IN ARTICULATION, ETC.
bl
3. I, tble, ie, il, Hit, ing, ire, ir, $'c.
137. The short sound of i in pin must not be perverted c t dropped
In such words as since, sit, tulip, disciples, spirit, satin, curious,
mountain, captain, &e. ; which words arc sometimes erroneously
pronounced, sence, set, tulup, t de-sciples, sperit, sat'ra, cur'ous,
mount'n, cap'n, &c.
138. In such words as convertible, admissibility, &c., the i here
Italicized may be slightly obscured. In evil, devil, devilish, the Ital¬
icized i is dropped. Do not drop it in civil, cavil, pencil, anvil, fos¬
sil, tonsil, &c.
139. The termination ing, occurring in unaccented syllables, i«
very often shorn of its true sound and converted into simple in. A
bad reader is at once detected by this fault. He should be exercised
in the examples under the sixteenth elementary sound on page 38 ;
and taught to .find out the difference between robin and robbing.
140. Do not give to the termination ire a sound as if it were in
two syllables, by pronouncing such words as mire, hire, &c., thus
mi-er, hi-er, &c. "Give to the r in these words a pure untrilled sound,
and its true liquid EI quality.
141. Avoid such perversions of the sound of ir in first, girl, thirst,
&c., as would degrade these words into fust, gal, thust, &c. The
sound should correspond with that of er in her. See 109. Do
not fuse the two sounds ie into i in such words as society, variety, &c.
4. O, oa, oi, on, oo, or, ow, fyc.
142. Do not obscure too much the long o in innocence, agony, im'-
potent, elaborate, composition, commemorate, memorable, efflores¬
cent, &c. Do not give the o in to the sound of short u. Do not
give to the o in testimony, matrimony, &c., the sound of long o in¬
stead of an obscure sound of short o. Do not drop the obscure
sourid of o in neighboring, melancholy, victory, memory, history,
&c.
143. Do not say yunder instead of yonder; bunnets instead 'jf
bonnets ; stun instead of stone ; stuny instead of stony; unly instead
of only; whole or hull instead of whole. But do say nuthing in¬
stead of nothing ; duz (does) instead of doos ; duth (doth) instead of
doth ; cumbat instead of combat, nun instead of nons, &e. Practise
the Exercises on pages 36 and 37.
144. The diphthong oa, when it has the sound of long o, is often
mispronounced. Do not say coat instead of coat; toad instead of
56
THE STANDARD1 FOURTH READER.
toad; cl&zk instead of cloak; boat instead of boat; road instead of
road, &c. Give to the oa in these words the full long sound which t
has in go, globe, &c. Practise the Exercises on the eighth element¬
ary sound, page 36.
145. Shun the offensive mode which bad readers have of convert¬
ing the sound of oi (as in voice) into that of long i. Do not say
hist for hoist, jine for join ; bil for boil; pison for poison, fist for
foist; mist for moist; clister for cloister; jint for joint; jistfor
joist.
146. Take heed of the distinction between the long and the short
sounds of oo. Do not give to the oo in book, good, look, forsook,
hook, brook, &c., the long sound oo has in noon, fool, pool, stool,
school, &c. Do not say fwZZ-ish instead of foolish. Do not say sut
for soot. Read Tf 58 ; and practice the Exercises upon the tenth and
eleventh elementary sounds, pages 36 and 37. In such words as
'occasion, information, caption, do not omit the obscure sound of the
o; do not convert the words into occazWn, informasA'ra, capsA'n.
Do not say portensAus, tremendyons, grievyusly, stupendously, in¬
stead of portentous, tremendous, grievously, stupendously, where the
ou has the sound of short u obscured.
147. The sound of or is frequently perverted by the negligent.
They will say fur instead of for; hos instead of horse; maun for
morn; currect for correct; immautal for immortal; staum for
storm ; horro for horror; impautant for important. Give to the or
in these words the full sound which the letters have in nor, observing
the Rule (^[ 77) in regard to the untrilled r. Do not say wuss,
wust, instead of worse, worst (rhyming with nurse, nurst).
148. Do not pervert the sound of ow in unaccented syllables into
tr. Do not say narrer, feller, winder, morrer, piller, borrer, &c., in¬
stead of narrow, fellow, &c. Practise the Exercises on the eighth
elementary sound, page 36.
5. U, ue^ui, ur, ure, fyc.
149. The sounds of u are often slurred or misapplied by bad read¬
ers. Read what is said (paragraphs 40, 41 and 42) of the long
sound of this vowel (as in mule). Do not attempt to give this long
sound to the vowel (or to its equivalent ew) after r in rule, rude,
fruit, grew, &c. Do not slight this long sound in such words as the
following : tune, nude, institute, fortune, particular, picture, leg'is.
lature, revenue, volume, venture, habitual, constitute, culture, deputy,
FAULTS IN ARTICULATION. ETC.
Assume, calculate, argument, situation, credulous, pursuits, <fcc.:
Practice the Exercises, page 43. Avoid the barbarism of perverting
into nater, culter, venter, endooring, virtoo, such words as nature,
venture, enduring, virtue.
150. Do not give to the ul in awfuZ, fearfuZ, dreadfuZ, beautifuZ,
&c., the sound of u in dull instead of u in put, bull, &c. Do not
pervert the sound of short u in such, just, faculty, &c., by mispro
nouncing the words sech, jest, fa/c&Zety, &c.
151. Give to ur its proper sound (that of er in her) in buret, curse,
durst, nurseries, nurse, purse, reimburse, &c. Do not debase the
sound of ur in these words by depriving the untrilled r of its due
force.
6. Ck, ct, cts, d, ds, kts, Ids, pts, nd, nts, mn, in, 6pc.
152. Heed the difference between the regular sound of d and its
sound as t. Remember that in the preterites and past participles of
verbs ending with an aspirate consonant sound, d takes the sound of
/, as in stufft, husht, &c. Practise the Exercises in consonant com¬
binations, page 49. Do not slur the sound of d in and.
153. The sounds of ct, cts, ds, kts, Ids, nts and pts, must not be
slurred. Say hand's, not hans,- thousands, not thousans; attaeked
(atta kt), not attained; a cts (a kts), not a ks; expects (expels), not
expels; perfectly (perfeMy), not perfe/rly ; insects, not insets; sects
not seks; {olds, not Ms ; precepts, not preceps, &c. Do not say as/
for asked (askt) ; attemps, for attempts; haunce for haun/s; torrence
for torrents, &c. Do not say chimbly for chimney.
154. Do not pervert the sound of m in words or syllables ending
with Im, rm or sm, making those terminations sound as if preceded
by short u. Do not say elum, helum, filum. chasum, alarum, priswm,
spasum, realum, criticisum, harum, &c., for elm, helm, film, chasm,
alarm, prism, spasm, realm, criticism, harm, &c.
7. R, rial, rian, re, shr, sph, ss, st, Spc.
155. R is properly one of the most active letters in the alphabet.
It is never idle, never out of service, never a mere supernumeraryEI
in a word ; and yet there is no letter more slighted or ill-used by bad
* The mark of obscure u, which Worcester gives to the u in particular,
deputy, calculate, voluble, argument, situation, credulous, &c., is calculate^
to mislead. The notation given by Walker and Webster to these words,
under which the u has the long diphthongal sound of u in cube, is far pref
arable.
58
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
readers. It is slurred, perverted, or dropped altogether, in the most
unscrupulous manner. Sometimes it is trilled when it ought not to
De, and sometimes untrilled when it ought to be. See the Rule on
this subject, Tf 77. Sometimes it is erroneously sounded in a word to
which it does not belong, and we hear drawlers say lawr, 1 arf, ideerr,
sawr, droring, instead of law, laugh, idea, saw, drawing.
156. We have already alluded, under the faults in vowel articula¬
tion, to some of the offences against r. Do not say hasAly for harsAly,
refawm for reform ; particular, eonsidwbly, nothern, ala'ming, paAt,
stah, Caroline, hart, discovud, arm'd, suffud, pardon, tendwlly, tol¬
lable, rariy, &c., instead of particular, considerably, northern, alarm,
part, star, Caroline, heart, discovered, armed, suffered, pardon, ten¬
derly, tolerable, rarely, &c. Do not, in aiming to give distinctness
to the sound of r, trill it where it ought not to be. Do not omit the
r in February.
157. In words ending with rial, Han, rior, rious, &c., remember
-that r does not blend with the vowel succeeding it; hence do not try
to make a single syllable of these terminations, but say memo-ri-aZ,
libra-n'-an, supe-ri-or, impe-ri-ous, &c. In a class of words ending
with re, such as centre, sceptre, massacre, theatre, &c., the r is
sounded after the vowel that follows it. Some of these words are
spelled by Webster as pronounced, thus: center, scepter, &c.
158. The thirty-third elementary sound (sA) should not be deprived
of its aspirate quality before r. We hear bad readers say srug,
sriek, srill, sroud, srink, srimp, &c., instead of sArug, sAriek, sArill,
sAroud, sArink, sArimp, &c. Practise the Exercises under this sound,
page 42.
159. The sph of sphere, spAerical, sphinx, &e., should not be de¬
prived of its aspirate sound. Read the Exercises under the twenty-
third elementary sound, page 40, and do not say spere instead of sfere.
Do not convert the ss of across into the st of acrest. Do not slur the
sts of misis, &c., and the str of stream, &c. Do not say beass for
beasts, feass for feasts, hoce for hos/s, servawee for servants, tinse for
tiwZs, persiss for persists.
8. T, thj ward, ways, wh.
160. Do not drop the t in softly, perfectly, &c. We drop the i in
soften, but not in softly. Let the exercises on th aspirate and th vocal
(page 40) be practised till the reader is in no danger of mispronounc¬
ing such words as with, benea/A, paths, truths, youths, &c. Do not
say munce for mon/As; close for clones; drawt for draught (dra/Z)
FAULTS IN ARTICULATION. ETC.
&s
161. The combination ward is often perverted by bad readers inta
wud or rud. Do not say forrud for forward, onwud for onward, Sea.
in these words the a should have an obscure sound of a in fall.
Do not misplace the accent in towards (pronounced td'ards). Do
not say alwuz for always. Do not sink the aspirate in wh, so that
such words as wheA, whist, whine, neither, white, whit, Sea., cannot
be distinguished, when uttered, from weal, wist, wine, wither, wight,
wit, &c. The y in my and myself, when these words are not em
phatic, may have the sound of short i.
9. Fusion of words, misplacing of accents, fyc.
162. Some readers have a habit of running their words together
so as tc make two or more sound as one. They will say am-ightynu
aze instead of a mighty mazei, &c. This habit, in the enunciation of
English, should be sedulously shunned. In guarding against an in¬
distinct and slurring habit of articulation, do not fall into the oppo¬
site error of too great precision. In giving its true sound to the
vowel in unaccented syllables, do not shift the accent. Do not, for
instance, say banishment', in trying to give its proper short sound to
the e.
163. The wrong accenting of words is a common fault, and may
best be avoided by consulting the dictionary. Read what is said on
pages 29 and 30,on the subject of accent; and then practise the
examples on page 51. . Do not misplace the accent in the following
words, which we here accentuate®1 correctly : ex'quisite, superfluous,
mis'chievous, ve'hement, hos'pitably, indis'putable, incom'parable
contrib'ute, sono'rous, hori'zon, prom'ontory, perfected. In cases
of disputed accent, and where authorities are equally balanced, it is
a safe rule to choose that mode by which the word may be the more
rapidly enounced with distinctness.
Questions. —124-128. What are some of the common faults in the enunciation of a •
129. What of the sound of long a before r ? 130. Of short a i 131. Pronounce s-t-a-»
Epistolary 132. Law. 133-136. What are some of the faults in pronouncing e
tr J 137 i I il ? ing t ire ? ir I 142. What cautions are given in regard to o ?
oa.' oi ? -oo ? or J ow t 149. U after r Pronounce t-v-n-e ; enduring, ko.
151. How is the sound of ur perverted ? 152. When does d take the sound of t f
153,154.What faults are common in enouncing terminations in ds, kts, lds,pts, m, &c. 1
165. What of r ? 156. In what class of words is it perverted or dropped ? 158. What
of sh } 159. sjh> 160. t } thl ward I wh t 162, 163. What of the fusion of
Words J misplacing of accent ?
60
the standard fourth reader.
LESSON XI.
PITCH, MONOTONE, THE PARENTHESIS.
164. By the pitch« of the voice we mean the governing tone
lometimes called the key, selected for the utterance of a sentence 01
exclamation. For the sake of illustration, we will suppose that a
boy is lying asleep upon the sofa, when his father says to him, in a
moderate tone of voice, "Thomas, go to bed." A moment after¬
wards, the father looks round, and finding the hoy not gone, says,
with a somewhat higher pitch of the voice, " Thomas, go to bed."
The father then resumes the reading of his newspaper, but soon look
ing round again, he finds Thomas still on the sofa, and now exclaims
impatiently, pitching his voice still higher, " Thomas, go to bed ! "
Thomas does not stir, and the father now exclaims at the highest
pitch of his voice, "Thomas! goto bed!" whereupon Thomas is
at length aroused.
165. By modulation we simply mean the regulation of the voice as
to its pitch, pauses, &c. The pitch of the voice may be low, middle
or high. The range of the voice from extreme low to extreme high
we call its compass. The degree in which the pitch is changed,
and often even the direction of the change, whether higher or lower,
must depend on the reader's judgment, taste* temperament, &c.
A low key is naturally adapted to the expression of solemnity, awe,
fear, humility and sadness; and a high key to the expression of levity,
boldness, pride and joy. Nearly all violent passions are expressed in
the high key.
166. In simple narrative, the reader should use the middle pitch
chiefly ; varying the intensity of the voice according to the distance
of his furthest hearer. Any continued address in the same pitch
should be avoided. The commencement of a sentence or of a para
graph will afford opportunity for changing the modulation, generally
to a lower, but it may be a higher pitch. It is a more common fault
to begin a sentence in too high than in too low a key.
167. Bo not confound force or loudness with a high pitch. A
person may speak in a very high pitch in a whisper, and in a loio
pitch with the full strength of his voice. A low-toned bell struck
violently will produce a loud sound in a low key ; whereas a high-
toned bell struck slightly will produce a soft sound in a high key.
Force is an entirely different quality from Pitch; and th ; most vio
PITCH, MONOTONE, THE PARENTHESIS.
61
ent efforts of the voice must .often be associated with the lowest
modulation.
168. Some readers have a disagreeable habit of changing from a
low to a high pitch in a harsh, abrupt manner, producing a start
ling effect where the language and sentiment do not warrant it. We
have heard a good sermon spoiled in the delivery by this fault. Do
not commence a sentence vehemently, and then let the voice taper
down to an almost inaudible pitch, causing it to mount at the next,
sentence, with a see-saw mode of utterance, now up and now down;
the modulation " running mountains high, then ducking low again."
169. To acquire the power of changing at pleasure the key in
which you speak, accustom yourself to pitch your voice in different
keys, from the lowest to the highest notes on which you can articulate
distinctly. Many of these would be neither proper nor agreeable in
reading; but the exercise will give you such a command of voice as
is scarcely to be acquired by any other method. See the Exercises on
Pitch, page 69. " Reading aloud and recitation," says Dr. Combe,
" are more useful and invigorating muscular exercises than is gen¬
erally imagined."
170. By monotone we understand a continuation of one tone
through many words. This, though generally to be guarded against,
is sometimes appropriate and effective in sublime and solemn pas¬
sages : as, in the following, from Job : "In thoughts from the visions
of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, fear came upon mo
and trembling, which made all my bones to shake."
171. A parenthesis, as it is a sentence within a sentence, must be
kept as clear as possible from the principal sentence, by a lower tone
of voice, and generally by a quicker rate of utterance. The power
of lowering the voice, and commencing a sentence or clauseEI of a
sentence in a different pitch from what preceded, is a qualification
indispensable to a good reader; and the parenthesis affords the best
opportunity for acquiring it, because the rule is constant.
172. Let the reader imagine that in pronouncing the principal
sentence he is to make himself heard at a distance; — when he
reaches the parenthesis, let him utter it as to some one near at hand,
and at its conclusion again address himself as to a distant hearer.
The power of changing the key being thus acquired, it may be em¬
ployed with propriety not only at the Parenthesis, but wherever there
is a manifest transition of thought. See Exercises, page 72. Re¬
member that a Parenthesis is sometimes indicated by other marks
khan these ( ). See Tf 3
6
52
thk STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Questions. —164. What is meant by the pitch of the voice ? By the key o_ »^ch i
Is pitched ? 166. What of modulation ? To what emotion is a low key suited ? 4 high1
166. A middle? 167. Do you understand by a high pitch a loud tone? 168. W„at dis
agreeable fault in the management of pitch is mentioned ? 169. What mode of practice if
suggested ? 170. What is monotone ? 171, 172. How ought a parenthesis to be deliv
ered ?
LESSON XII.
INFLECTION.
173. Ant one who attends to the tones of nis voice will perceive
that when he utters the word " Come ! " in a coaxing, entreating
sense, the tone is quite different from that which he gives to the word
" Go ! " uttered sternly and as a command. These different tones
are called inflections®1 ef the voice; and, in the foregoing examples,
the word " Come " has the rising inflection, and the word " Go" the
falling. These inflections naturally occur, with more or less force,
in reading as well as in our common conversation.
174. In counting one, two, three, &c., up to twelve, we give tho
rising inflection to every number till we come to the last, and to that
we give the falling. In the question, " Did you say one ? " uttered
in an ordinary tone of inquiry, the word one takes the Rising inflec¬
tion. In the questions " When did I say one ? " "Who said one ? "
uttered without some modifying emotion, the last* word takes the
Falling inflection.
175. Besides the Rising and Falling inflection, there is the Com¬
pound inflection, or Circumflex, in which the two inflections are
united in utterance ; a fall'"g or assertive tone being followed by a
rising or querulous®1 one, or the reverse taking place. This com¬
pound tone is that of sarcasm and insinuation, as in uttering such
passages as the following, ironically®1: " Brave man — to strike a
troman ! courageous chief! " It is also the tone of strong antithesis ;w
as, " They tell u* L be moderate, but they revel in profusion."
176. We sometimes adopt the mark of the acute accent (') to de¬
note a word or passage that should have the Rising inflection ; the
grave accent (N), to denote the Falling inflection; the circumflex
(A), to denote the Compound Inflection, or Circumflex, when the
falling follows the rising; and this mark (v) to denote the reverse.
177. A few rules of limited application in regard to inflecting the
INFLECTION.
6a
voice may be given, but it should be remembered that these rules ara
no longer rules when peculiar emotions and passions are to be ex¬
pressed Rules being thus exceptional, the safest guide to a proper
inflecting of the voice is to thoroughly learn the meaning of what
you read, and enter into its spirit. We must in all cases be guided
by the intent of the utterance, rather than by its rhetoricalm form.
178. Direct questions, which can be answered by yes or no, gen¬
erally take the rising inflection ; as, " Will you ride'? " " Can he
read' ? " The reason is, that when we pronounce a sentence in doubt
or ignorance, and with the desire of assurance or information, we
naturally terminate the utterance with a Rising inflection, more or
less strong in proportion to the degree of our eagerness to be assured
or informed. By the tone of the voice we appeal to the hearer for a
satisfactory reply. The answers to such questions generally take the
Falling inflection ; as, " Can he read ? " " He can\"
179. Indirect questions, and those which cannot be answered by
yes or no, generally take the Falling inflection; and the reason is,
that the main fact of the sentence being undoubted and taken for
granted, there is an implied reference to this, which dictates a fall,
unless there is a querulous emotion expressed, which demands a rise
Thus the questions, " Where is he going? What does he mean? '
imply, " Understanding that he is going, I ask, where? Believing
that he means something, I ask, what ? v But if there is an emotion
of sudden consternation or complaint to be expressed, both the forego¬
ing questions may take the Rising inflection. The answers to indirect
questions usually take the same inflection with them; as, " Where
is he going"-? " "I don't know\"
180. When the conjunctions or and bit connect antithetical®1
words or clauses,®1 the Rising inflection is generally used before, and
the Falling after them ; as, "Will you go' or stayN? " " He will
not ride', but walk\"
181. The termination of a sentence making complete sense re¬
quires th8 Falling inflection ; as, " Live wellV " Take heed to thy
bhoughtsV' " Keep thy heart with all diligence""."
182. The pause of suspension, in incomplete sentences, usually
takes the Rising inflection ; as, " The young7, the healthy7 and the
prosperous7, should not presume on their advantages"" "
183. The imperative mood is generally pronounced with a Falling
inflection; but the speaker's mood is the regulating principle. A
fall conveys command, and a rise expresses entreaty. Thus the Fall
ing inflection is associated with what is complete, disconnected, posi-
84
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
fcive or imperious; the Rising, with what is doubtful, incomplete
connected or dependent.
Questions. —173. Illustrate the meaning of inflection. What is the derivation of the
word ? (See Explanatory Index.) 174. In counting twelve, on which number do you
place the Falling inflection ? 175. What is understood by the Compound Inflection, oi
Circumflex? 176. What are the marks of inflection? 177. Are rules for inflection
always reliable I 178. Why is the Rising inflection generally given ti questions answer¬
able by yes or no ? 179. Why do indirect questions generally take the Falling ? 180.
What is the rule of this paragraph ? 181. Of this ? 182. Of this ? 183. Of this ?
LESSON XIII.
EMPHASIS, FORCE, PAUSE, ETC.
184. Emphasis, in articulation, is the mode of drawing attentior
to one or more words in a sentence, by pronouncing them with a
greater volumeE1 and duration of sound, and in a higher or lowei
note than the adjoining words. Thus, in the sentence " It is the
part of justice never to do violence, and the part of modesty never to
commit offence," the principal stress is laid upon certain substantives,
and the rest of the sentence is ,spoken with an inferior degree of
exertion.
185. By a proper disposition of emphasis, we impart animation
and interest to spoken language. Emphasis is, as it were, the invis¬
ible gesticulation of the mind through the voice ; and all rules of
inflection and accent give way to it. In order to emphasize properly,
the reader should acquaint himself with the construction and mean¬
ing of every sentence which he recites. It is for want of this pro
vious study, more, perhaps, than from any other cause, that we so
often hear persons read with a stupid monotony.®1 In familiar dis¬
course we rarely fail to place the emphasis properly; and this is
because we fully understand what we are saying.
186. A misplaced emphasis may often lead a hearer to give a wrong
meaning to your words. Thus, the following short sentence, " Do
you intend to go to Newport this summer? " admits of three different
meanings, according to the place of the emphasis. As a general
rule, the emphasis is placed upon the word or words which, more
than any other, may express the idea to be conveyed.
187. It is one of the offices of emphasis to express the opposition
between the several parts of a sentence, where the ideas are con¬
trasted or compared; as in the following sentences : " When our
EMPHASIS, FORCE, PAUSE, ETC.
vices leave us, we fancy that we leave them." " A countenance mors
in sorrow than in anger " " A custom more honored in the breach
than in the observance." Let it be remembered that it is only by a
prudent reserve in the use of emphasis that we can give to those
words that ought to be emphatic their true weight:
" For none emphatic can that reader call
Who lays an equal emphasis on all."
Sometimes, however, emphasis may fall upon several words in eucoea-
>n ; as in the Italicized words of the following passage :
" He said, he would not ransom Mortimer ;
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
Hut I will find him when he lies asleep
And in his ear I '11 holla — Mortimer !
I '11 have a starling shall be taught to spea>
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him.
To keep his anger still in motion."
188. Emphasis is either of the thought (logical) or of feeling (pas¬
sionate) . It may be expressed by any variation of the voice that shall
indicate distinction; and consequently by means of pitch, inflection,
pause, force, &c.* " To endeavor *to distinguish and measure out,
* Of the diffuse and complicated rules for inflection, emphasis, stress, etc.,
in some of our school-books, how little use is ever made by either teaoher
or pupil ! After we have accomplished a pupil in the really practical part
of elocution, in articulation, pronunciation, the means of vocal culture and
development, &o., how unprofitable is the attempt to oppress him with
these rules ! They are, at the best, often purely speculative, and may re
quire an amount of study that might much better be given to subjects a
knowledge of which would render him independent of all such rules, by
causing him to enter fully into the spirit and intent of what he reads. In
all our experience, we have never known the distinguished orator or actor who
confessed himself indebted to them. On the contrary, we have heard many
a one express his utter incredulity as to their scientific certainty, and the
benefit to be derived from any artificial system whatever of teaching elocu¬
tion. The expression of emotion, sentiment and feeling, in delivery, is not
to be taught by rule. The cry of a drowning man will be in the right key,
and have the right inflection, though he may never have heard of " radi¬
cal," "median," or " compound " stress, or the "intensive slide." We
do not, in these remarks, undervalue the importance of good oral instruc¬
tion. But we believe that a majority of the best teachers of the present
day regard as an impertinence the attempt to make certain questionable
Xules for inflection, &o., paramount authority in the school-room.
6*
66
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
beforehand, by general lawa, the exact degree of emphasis, •would In
as idle as to attempt to affix to a certain extent of motion of the
hands in gesticulation a particular degree of intensity of thought or
feeling." The best rule, and one to which there is no exception, is
this: Study to understand your reading exercise, and then deliver it
with earnestness and expression, pronouncing every word accurately
and distinctly.
189. Much of the effect of good reading depends on sufficient and
appropriate pauses. The use of the marks of punctuation is mostly
grammatical, and many more stops than are indicated to the eye
ought often to be observed. Pausing may be one of the chief means
of expressing emphasis. The hearer's attention is excited, and curi¬
osity awakened, for the word which the speaker pauses to introduce.
The following passages afford an exercise in emphatical pausing :
" You called me — dog ; and for these — courtesies,
I '11 — lend you thus much moneys."
" 0 Death ! — where is thy sting ? 0 Grave ! — where is thy victory ? "
190. In the following passages, the dash indicates the division of
the sentence at which the longest pause may be made. The dotted
line? indicate that an inferior momentary pause may take place :
" I am persuaded ... that neither death nor life . . . nor angels . .
nor principalities . . nor powers . . . nor things present . . . nor things
to come . . . nor height . . . nor depth . . . nor any other creature —
shall be able to separate us . . . from the love of God."
" We make provision for this life ... as though it were never to have an
end — and for the other life ... as though it were never to have a begin¬
ning "
191. By Force or Stress in speaking, we mean loudness or volume
of voice in a greater or less degree. Force may be used on entire
phrases or sentences, and on single words or syllables. In the follow¬
ing line the strength of the voice is chiefly expended on the Italicized
syllable :
" Whence and what art thou, execrable shape ? "
In expressions of great enthusiasm, of alarm, remorse, or importu¬
nate entreaty, or when invoking aid, the utmost force of the voice i(
sometimes applied to emphatic words ; as in the following examples :
" Arm / arm / it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar."
METRICAL LANGUAGE, INVERSION, ELLIPSIS.
63
" Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head I "
" Upon them ! Charge ! "
" My native hills ! ye guards of liberty !
I'm with you once again ! I call to you
With all my voice f I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free ! I rush to you
As though I could embrace you ! "
To cultivate and strengthen the voice in the upper range, it will
be well to practise a few passages like the above, that require the
high tones for their proper expression. But any exercise requiring
vehement efforts of the voice must be managed with prudence, and
not too much protracted.
Questions. —184. .What is emphasis 7 185. What is necessary to attain a proper em
phasis 7 188. Is emphasis ever essential to the expression of meaning ? 187. Illustrate
antithetical emphasis. 188. In how many ways may emphasis be expressed? 189.
What of Pause 7 191. What is understood by Force or Stress 7 186. Must not all rule*
for inflection give way to emphasis 7
LESSON XIV.
METRICAL LANGUAGE, INVERSION, ELLIPSIS.
192. Metrical Language, or language that is measured in its flow
and succession of syllables, is that in which the thoughts of poetry
are generally expressed. In order to render verse harmonious, or to
avoid a too common mode of expression, the poet often inverts words
in a manner that would not be proper in prose discourse; "as in the
following line:
" Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound,"
This transposing of the natural order of words is called Inversion
Sometimes a verb is made to commence a sentence; as,
" Echoed from earth a hollow roar."
Adverbs are sometimes placed before instead of after their verbs ; and
prepositions are occasionally placed after instead of before the word*
they govern; as,
" Where Echo walks steep hills amongt
Listening to the poet's song."
J6S
THE STANDARD 50URTH READER.
193. As in the foregoing couplet, the poet sometimes takes the
liberty of making an imperfect rhyme ; so do not be misled by him.
. 194. The Ellipsis is a license very frequently used in poetry.
This word is derived from a Greek word, meaning to leave or pass by.
By the Ellipsis entire words are dropped, under the supposition
that the reader will see the meaning of a sentence without them ;
as in the following examples: " To this the Thunderer." Here the
word answered is understood. " There are who have no relish for
the chase." Here the word those is dropped after are. By an ellip-
tical form of expression, we mean one in which one or more words,
which it is supposed will be understood, are omitted.
195. There is in metrical language, or verse, a pause called the
Caesura* * pause, which takes place generally near the middle of a
verse,®1 as in
" To him who gives us all" I yield a part."
Sometimes there are two such pauses in a verse; and sometimes sev¬
eral inferior pauses, called Demi-uesural, should be made. Beware
of a sing-song habit of reading verse.
196. Certain abbreviations, rarely used in prose, are common in
poetry ; as eve for evening, morn for morning, lone for lonely, list
for listen, yon for yonder, 'gan for began, happed for happened, ne'er
for never, e'er for ever, &c. Antiquated words and modes of expres¬
sion, as, methinks, ere, behest, erst, ken, ycleped (pronounced e-klept),
dight, don, doffed, &c., occasionally occur. Sometimes words that
are pronounced only in one syllable in prose have two in poetry.
See 1 35.
197. By blank verse we mean any verse without rhyme; but the
term is particularly applied to what is called heroic verse, consisting
of ten syllables, with sometimes an unaccented eleventh. In this
verse the " Paradise Lost" of Milton and the greater portion of the
plays of Shakspeare are written.
198. In reading poetry, do not sacrifice the spirit and meaning of
a sentence to a mechanical adherence to pauses of structure. The
pause at the end of a line, which the measure may seem to require
should never be so decided as to distract attention from the sense to
the rhythm .w The following lines:
" There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me —"
EXAMPLES ON PITCH.
a bad reader w.U be apt to deliver thus: " There is no lustling in
the lofty elm — that canopies my dwelling and its shade — scarce
cools me." The good reader gives expression at once to the sense
and the harmony of the verse.
Questions. —193. What do you understand by inversion in poetical language 7 194,
Give examples of it. 195. What is Ellipsis 7 196. What are some of the abbreviations
and antique words common in poetry 7 197. What is blank verse 7 198. What is said
of a fault in reading poetry 7
EXERCISE X.
Examples of Low Pitch. — See page 60.
1. Tread softly! bow the head ;
In reverent silence bow;
No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul
I passing now.
2. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cooled
To hear a night-shriek; and my fellM of hair
Would — at a dismal treatise — rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have supped full with horrors.
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
3. I had a dream, which was not all a dream:
The bright sun was extinguished; and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Itayless, and pathless; and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air.
I. Ah! Gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a
bo.<ret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has
nenber nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it, and say
it is frafu.
Examples oj Middle Pitch.
I have seen
A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which, in silence touched, his very soul
fastened intently; and his countenance soon
70
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard — sono'rous cadences! whereby,
To his belief, the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sea.
— Even such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of faith.
2. A little furrow holds thy scattered seed;
One somewhat deeper will receive thy bones;
Yet plough®1 and sow with gladness; from the soil
Springs the rich crop that feeds and gladdens life,
And hope is not quite vanished from the grave.
3. Insects generally must lead a truly jovial life. Think
what it must be to lodge in a lily. Imagine a palace of ivory
and pearl, with pillars of silver and capitals of gold, and exhal¬
ing such a perfume as never arose from human censer. Fancy,
again, the fun of tucking one's self up for the night in the folds
of a rose, rocked to sleep by the gentle sighs of the summer air.
with nothing to do when you wake but to wash yourself in a
dew-drop, and fall to eating your bed-clothes.
4. Nothing is more natural than to imitate, by the sound of
the voice, the quality of the sound or noise which any external
object ma£es, and to form its name accordingly. A certain bird
is termed the cuckoo, from the sound which it emits. When one
sort of' wind is said to whistle, and another to roar; when a
serpent is said to hiss, a fly to buzz, and falling timbers to crash;
when a stream is said to flow, and hail to rattle ; the analogy®1
between the word and the thing signified is plainly discernible.
Examples of High Pitch.
1. Wrhat! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contamirxte our fingers with base bribes;
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus? —
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
2. Thy spirit, Independence, let me share,
Lord of the lior heart and eagle eye!
Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky,
3. Awake, my heart, awake!
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn !
EXAMPLES ON PITCH.
71
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
Ye wild goats, sporting round the eagle's nest!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm 1
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the elements!
Utter forth Glod, and fill the hills with praise.
4. I tell thee, scorner of these whitening hairs,
When this snow melteth there shall come a flood!
Avaunt' EI my name is Richelieu!EI I defy thee!
5. Advance, then, ye future generations ! We bid you wel
come to this pleasant land of the Fathers. We bid you welcome
to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England.
We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have
enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government
and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of
science, and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the
transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of kin¬
dred, and parents, and children. We welcome you to the im¬
measurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope
of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth!
Examples of Transition from High Pitch to Low.
1. So stately her bearing, so proud her array,
The main she will traverse for ever and aye.
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!
— Hush ! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last 1
2. 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; —
Rut hush! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell 1
Examples of Monotone. — See H 170.
1. How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immovable,
Looking tranquillity!
2. In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heavenly, pensive Contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing Melancholy reigns, — ^
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? #
•The monitono changes here with the commencement of the fourth line,
72
THE STANDARD FOURTH RIUDER.
3. 0! thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my
fathers,--whence are thy beams, O Sun! thy everlasting light?
Thou com est forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide them¬
selves in the sky; the moon, pale and cold, sinks in the western
wave. But thou thyself movest alone; who can be a companion
of thy course ?
Parenthesis. — See H1T171, 172.
1 _ If there's a power above us
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Through all her works), He must delight in virtue,
And that which He delights in must be happy.
2. His spear (to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast
Of some great admiral13 were but a wand)
He walked with to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl.EI
8 The awkward, untried speaker rises now,
And to the audience makes a jerking bow.
He staggers — almost falls — stares — strokes his chin —
Clears out his throat, and .. ventures to begin.
" Sir, I am . . sensible " — (some titter near him) —
" I am, sir, sensible " —'" Hear ! hear ! " (they cheer him.)
Now bolder grown — for 'praise mistaking pother—
He pumps first one arm up, and then the other.
" I am, sir, sensible — I am indeed —
That,.. though —I should— want—words — I must proceed:
And .. for the first time in my life, I think —
I think — that — no great — orator — should — shrink —
And, therefore, — Mr. Speaker, — I, for one —
Will.. speak out freely. — Sir — I've not yet done.
Sir, in the name of those enlightened men
Who sent me here to .. speak for them — why, then .
To do my duty — as I said before —
To my constituency — I '11 .. say no more."
4. Pride, in some particular disguise or other (often a secret
to the proud man himself), is the most ordinary spring of action
among men.
5. Death (says Seneca) falls heavily upon hiin, who is too
much known to others, and too little to himself.
6. The immortality of the soul (faith in which has sustained
the greatest intellects of all ages) is the basis of morality, and
the source of all the pleasing hopes and secret joys that can
arise in the heart of a reasonable creature.
exercises on inl'lecmon.
73
EXERCISE XI.
Inflection. — See pages 62, 63.
1. Can such things he,
And overcome us, like a summer cloud,
Without our special wonder' ?
2. Would it not employ a beau prettily enough, if, instead of
continually playing with his snuff-box, he spent some part of his
time in making one' ?
3, Who can look down upon the grave, even of an enemy,
and not feel a compunctious throb that he should ever have
warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering
before him"? __
4. Why should we see with dead men's eyes —
Looking at Was from morn to night,
When the beauteous Now, the divine To Be,
Woo with their charms our living sightv 7
Why should we hear but echoes dull,
When the world of sound, so beautiful,
Will give us music of our ownv ?
Why in the darkness should we grope,
When the sun in heaven's resplendent cope
Shines as bright as ever it shonev?
5. Homer was the greater genius'; Virgil the better artist":
in the one, we most admire the man'; in the other, the work".
Homer hurries us with a commanding impetuosity'; Virgil leads
us with an attractive majesty". Homer scatters with a generous
profusion'; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence". Homer,
like the Nile, pours out his riches with a sudden overflow'; Vir ■
gil, like a river in its banks, with a constant stream".
. 6. They, through faith, subdued kingdoms'—wrought right,
eousness'— obtained promises'— stopped the mouths of lions'—
quenched the violence of fire'— escaped the edge of the sword'
—out of weakness, were made strong'—waxed valiant in fight",
and turned to flight the armies of the aliens".
7. Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust' 7
Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death" 7
8. Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended.
Hamlet. Mother, you have my father much offended.
9. Nay, an thou 'It mouth, I '11 rant as well as thud.
10. If you said so, then I said so.
11. " 'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye! "
" Green! " cries the other, in a fury ;
" Why. sir, d' ye think I've lost my eyh 7 H
74
the standard fourth reader.
Emphasis, Pause, fyc. — See pages 64, 65.
I. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you .. hares ;
Where foxes .. geese ! You are no surer — no! —
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. * * He that depends
Upon your favors swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! — Trust ye ?
With every minute you do change a mind:
And call him noble, that was now your hate, —
Him vile, that was your garland.
2. The gloomiest day hath gleams of light;
The darkest wave hath white foam near it;
And twinkles through the cloudiest night
Some solitary star to cheer it.
The gloomiest soul is not all gloom ;
The saddest heart is not all sadness;
And sweetly o'er the darkest doom
There shines some lingering beam of gladness.
3. Qne murder makes a villain;
Millions, a hero. War its thousands slays;
Peace, its ten thousands.
4. Those governments which curb not evils, came !
•And a rich knave's a libel on our laws.
5. He raised a mortal to the skies,
She drew an angel down,
6. To err is human ; to forgive .. divine.
7. What men could do
Is done already: heaven and earth will witness,
If.. Rome .. must. .fall, that we are innocent.
8. Exercise and temperance strengthen even an indifferent
constitution.
9. You were paid to fight against Alexander, and not to raU
at him.
10. Laziness grows on people; it begins in cobwebs, and ends
in iron chains. The more business a man has, the more he is
able to accomplish; for he learns to economize his time.
II. Though rules and instructions cannot do all that is re¬
quisite, they may, however, do much that is of real use. They
cannot, it is true, inspire genius; but they can direct and assist
it. ,They cannot remedy barrenness; but they :an correct
redundancy.
EXERCISES ON INFLECTION.
7a
12. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approba
tion, and the fool when he recommends himself to the applause
of those about him.
13. We make provision for this life as though it were neve^
to have an end, and for the other life as though it were never to
have a beginning.
14. The weakest reasoners are always the most positive in
debate; and the cause is obvious; for those are unavoidably
driven to maintain their pretensions by violence, who want avgu
ments and reasons to prove that they are in the right.
15. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his .. humility? —
Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffer
ance be, by .. Christian .. example ? — Why, revenge!
Force.
1. And dar'st thou, then,
To beard the lion in his den, —
The Douglas in his hall?
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go 7
No! by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! —
Up drawbridge, groom ! What! warder, ho 1
Let the portcullis fall!
2. Awake ! Awake!
Ring the alarum bell: murder and treason!
Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! Awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself. — Up ! up! and see
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like fprights
To countenance this horror!
3 Awake! arise! or be forever fallen!
TO TEACHERS.
Thb marks of reference in the reading exercises of Part Seeond art
explained on the next page. A faithful attention to these references will
be found of essential service in illustrating the text, and guarding against
bad habits of articulation and pronunciation.
It is recommended that frequent recurrence for practice he had to the
exercises on the elementary sounds, beginning page 34. The collection of
representative words has been made with much care ; and familiarity with
their proper pronunciation will be a great step towards one of the funda¬
mental accomplishments of a good reader. Particular heed should be given
in these exercises to the intent of the Italicized portions of words. The
exercises on the consonant combinations (page 48) may also be practised
with advantage.
The pupil should be made thoroughly to understand the nature of accent,
the force of the mark of accent, the difference between accent and quantity,
Ac., as explained on pages 15, 29, 30, and in the exercises on pages 51, 52.
These explanations are important to the proper understanding of the occa¬
sional marks of accent and quantity which appear in the reading exercises.
The list of Faults in Articulation (page 53) should be carefully conned ;
and the pupil should be taught to refer to it whenever he is checked in the
errors which are there catalogued for his avoidance. It is recommended
that he be allowed time to peruse the reading exercises of the day, and attend
to the references contained in them, before being called on to recite.
Several pieces adapted to simultaneous reading on the part of a class
will be found scattered through the volume. This species of exercise, if
well managed, may be occasionally practised with advantage — the teacher
regulating the pauses with a motion of his hand.
To insure the attention of an entire class, it may often be well to skip
from one pupil to another, without regard to his order ; sometimes inter¬
rupting a reader before his voice has dropped, and calling upon another t«
eontinue a sentence with the appropriate suspended inflection.
A list of prefixes and postfixes has been placed at the end of the volume ;
and these may be referred to, at the teacher's discretion, to illustrate the
derivation and meaning of a large number of words in frequent familiar use.
THE
STANDARD FOURTH READER.
PART II.
EXERCISES IN READING.
*#* Small figures after words in the following Exercises refer to
Paragraphs in Part I., numbered with corresponding figures.
The letters ei after words indicate that all such should be looked oue
in the Explanatory Index, at the end of the volume, for their meaning
or pronunciation.
Where parts of a word are Italicized, the reader is referred to the
corresponding letter or letters in the list of " Faults in Articulation,
commencing page 53.
I. — THE THREE READERS.
1. It is related of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, that
as he once sat in his private apartment, a written petition was
brought to him, with the request that it should be immediately
read. The king had just returned from hunting, and the glare
of the sun, or some other cause, had so affected his eyesight, that
he found it difficult to make out a single word of the manu¬
script.1811
2. His private secretary happened to be absent; and the
soldier who brought the petition could not tell the first letter of
the alphabet from the last. There was a page, or favored boy-
servant, in attendance in the corridor; w and upon him the king
ealled. The page was a son of one of the noblemen of the
court, but proved to be a very poor reader.
3. In the first place, he did not articulate distinctly. He hud¬
dled his words together in the utterance, as if they were sylla
bles of one long word, which he musfget through with as speed-
7*
78
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
ily as possible. His pronunciation was bad, and he did not
modulate® his voice so as to bring out the meaning of what he
delivered. Every sentence was read with a dismal monotony,®
as if it did not differ in any respect from that which preceded it.
4. " Stop ! " said the king, impatiently; " is it an auctioneer's
catalogue, or what is it, that you are hurrying over ? Send your
companion to me." Another page, who stood at the door, now
entered, and to him the king gave the petition. This second
page began by hemming and clearing his throat in such an
affected manner, that the king jocosely asked him if he had n't
slept in the public garden, with the gate open, the night before.
5. The second page had a good share of self-conceit, however,
and he was not disconcerted by the jest. He determined that he
would avoid the rock on which his companion had been wrecked.
So he commenced reading the petition with great formality and
deliberation, emphasizing every word, and prolonging the articu¬
lation of every syllable. But his manner was so tedious that the
king cried out: " Stop ! Are you reciting a lesson in the ele¬
mentary sounds ? Out of the room! — Stay ! — Send to me that
little girl who is sitting there by the fountain."
6. The girl thus pointed out by the king was a daughter of
one of the laborers employed by the royal gardener; and she
had come to help her father weed the flower-beds. It chanced
that, like many of the poor people in Prussia, even in that day,
she had received a good education. She was somewhat alarmed
when she found herself in the king's presence, but was reas¬
sured11 when the king told her that he only wanted her to read
for him, as his eyes were weak.
7. Now, Ernestine (for that was her name) was so fond of
reading aloud, that frequently many of the poor people in the
neighborhood would assemble at her father's house to hear her;
and those who could not themselves read would bring to her
letters to decipher from distant friends or children. She thus
acquired the habit of reading various sorts of handwriting
promptly and well.
8. The king gave her the petition, ar.d she rapidly glanced
through the opening lines to get some idea of what it was about.
THE STANDARD 1'OUKTU READER.
73
As she read, her eyes began to glisten, and her breast to heave.
" What is the matter ? " asked the king ; " don't you know how
to read ? " — " 0 ! yes, sire," she replied, addressing him with
the title usually applied to him; " I will now read it, if you
please."
9. The two pages were®1 about to leave the room. " Remain."
said the king. The little girl began to read the petition. It
was from a poor widow, whose only son had been drafted®1 to
serve in the army, although his health was delicate, and his pur¬
suits had been of a character to unlit him for military life. His
father had been killed in battle, and the son was ambitious of
being a portrait-painter.
10. The writer told her story in a simple, concise®1 manner,
that carried to the heart a convictipn of its truth; and Ernes¬
tine read it with so much grace and feeling, and with an articu¬
lation so just, in tones so pure and distinct, that when she had
finished, the king, into whose, eyes the water had started, ex¬
claimed : " 0! now I understand what it is all about; but I
might never have known (certainly never have felt)183 its mean¬
ing, had I trusted to these young gentlemen, whom I now dis¬
miss from my service for one year, recommending them to occupy
it in learning to read.
11. "As for you, my young lady," continued the king, "I
know you will ask no better reward for your trouble than to be
the instrument of carrying to this poor widow my order for her
son's immediate discharge. Let me see if you can write as well
as you can read. Take this pen, and follow my dictation."®1
He then dictated an order, which Ernestine wrote and he signed.
Calling one of his guards, he bade him accompany the girl, and
see that the order was executed.
12. How much happiness was Ernestine the means of bestow¬
ing through her good elocution, united to the happy circumstance
that brought it to the knowledge of the king! First, there were
her poor neighbors, to whom she could give instruction and en¬
tertainment. Then there was the widow who sent the petition,
and who not only regained her son, but received through Ernes
tine an order for him to paint the king's likeness, so that the
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poor bej soon rose to great distinction, and had more orders
than he could attend to. Words ould not speak his gratitude,
and that of his mother, to the little girl.
13. And Ernestine had, moreover, the satisfaction of aiding
her father to rise in the world, so that he became the king's
chief gardener. The great king did not forget her, but had her
well educated at his own expense. As for the two pages, she
was indirectly the means of benefiting them also ; for, ashamed
of their bad reading, they commenced studying in earnest, till
they overcame the fauks that had offended the king. Both
finally rose to distinction, one as a lawyer and the other as a
statesman; and they owed their advancement in life to their
good elocution. Madame Vinet.*
II. — ON LIVING WELL AND LONG.
1. Are there any among you who desire to use all proper
means to preserve health and cheerfulness through life, and at
length to reach a serene old age ? If so, listen to what I am
about to tell you.
2. A considerable time ago, I read in one of the newspapers
of the day, that a man had died near London at the advanced
age of one hundred and ten years ; that he had never been ill;
and that he had maintained through life a cheerful, happy
temperament.
3. I wrote immediately to London, begging to know if in
the old man's treatment of himself there had been any pecu¬
liarly which had rendered his life so lengthened and so happy;
and the answer I received was as follows:
4. " He was moral and devout, and uniformly kind and oblig¬
ing. He ateKI and drank merely that he might not suffer from
hunger or thirst, and never beyond what necessity required.
• In Italicizing names of authors appended to pieces in this volume, it is
Intended to indicate that all such pieces have been abridged, translated oi
altered, for this work. Where the authors' names are in small capitals, the
pieces have been subjeoted to no change.
THB STANDARD FOURTH READER.
81
Prom his earliest youth he was industrious, and took a good
portion of exercise in the open air."
5. I made a note of this in a little book where I generally
write all that I am anxious to remember, and very soon after¬
wards I learned from another paper that a woman had died near
Stockholm.*1 who was a hundred and fifteen years old, and who
had always been of a contented, happy disposition. I immedi¬
ately wrote to Stockholm, to learn what means this old woman
had used for preserving her health; and now read the answer:
6. " She was always a great lover of cleanliness, and in the
daily habit of washing her face, feet and han^s, in cold water ;
and, as often as opportunity offered, she bathed her whole person
in the same. She rarely partook of sweetmeats; seldom of cof¬
fee or tea; and never of wine. She was upright in her dealings,
loved God and her neighbor, and never allowed herself to cherish
a spiteful or vindictive feeling."
7. Of this likewise I took a note in my little book ,* and many
monMs had not gone by before I again46 read in the newspaper
a paragraph which excited my curiosity. It was a mention of
a man who had died near St. Petersburgh,®1 and who had enjoyed
good health up to his hundred and twentieth year. Again I took
my pen. I addressed a letter to St. Petersburgh, and here is
the answer to it:
8. " He was an early riser, and rarely slept beyond seven hours
at a time. He was temperate in all things. He always had
sufficient occupation for both his thoughts and his bands. He
worked and employed himself chiefly in the open air, and partic¬
ularly in his garden. Whether he walked or sat in his chair, it
was always in an erect posture. He drank pure water, and avoided
all but the most wholesome articles of food. He tried to dis¬
charge his duties faithfully to God and man, and kept a pure
conscience."
9. After having written all this in my little book, and read it.
over, I said to myself: "You will be a foolish man indeed not
to profit by the example and experience of these old people." I
then wrote out upon a large card a number of rules42 gathered
from their experience, and obliged myself to conform to them.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
10. And now, I can assure you. on the word of an honest man,
that I am in better health and much happier than 1 used to be.
Formerly I had headache nearly every day, and now I suffer
scarcely once in three or four mon^As. Before I attended to
these'rules, I hardly dared venture out in a rain or snow storm,
through fear of catching cold. In former times, a half-hour's
walk fatigued and exhausted me; and now I walk many miles
without weariness.
11. Imagine, then, the happiness I experience; for there are
few feelings so cheering to the spirit as those of constant good
health and vigor. But, alas! there is something in which I
cannot bear resemblance to these happy old people — and that
is in the circumstance of having been accustomed to all these
good habits from youth upwards.
12. 0 ! that I wereEI young again, that I might imitate them
in all things, that I might be happy and healthy as they were.
The young who read this are the fortunate ones who are able
to begin early the adoption of such habits.
IB. I would not have you suppose that long life is to be de¬
sired before the discharge of duty and the cultivation of virtue.
There are many things to be esteemed more than long life.
After all our precautions and rules, we must remember that we
are in the hands of a heavenly Father, who best knows whart is
for our good, and whose will should be our will.
14. In the highest sense, he lives long who lives well. The
good man (and good men not only think good thoughts, but do
good deeds) lives more in a day than a selfish, covetous man in
a century. The virtuous youth, whose motives are generous,
whose kindness is prompt and active, is more truly venerable
than the old miser or sensualist with gray locks and tottering gait.
15. But no one will deny that it is our duty, as well as for
our advantage, to conform to those laws of our being, obedience
to which is, as a general rule, conducive to a long, a healthful,
and a happy life. Health of mind, and the ability to do good,
depend largely on health of body; so let us imitate the old
people of whom I have spoken, that our days may be long in
the land. From (he German.
THE STANEARD FOURTH READER.
83
III. — SELECT SENTENCES.
1. He that cannot live well to-day,189 will be less prepared to
live well to-morrow.187
2. In the season of youth the heart should rise to the love of
what is great, and fair, and excellent, and melt at the view of
goodness.
3. Faith is an entire dependence upon the truth, the power,
the justice and the mercy, of God; which dependence will cer¬
tainly incline us to obey him in all things.181
4. Where can an object be found, so proper to kindle the best
affections, as the Father of the Universe and the Author of all
good ?179
5. Submit to the guidance of those who are^ wiser than your¬
selves, and become wise by the wisdom of those who have gone
before you.
6. Truth is the basis of every virtue; falsehood sinks you
imto contempt with God and man. The path of truth is a plain
and safe path.
7. Engrave on your mihd that sacred rule " of doing unto
others as you would wish that they should do to you."
8. Go sometimes to the house of mourning, as well as to the
house of feasting: graceful in youth is the tear of sympathy,
and the heart that melts at the tale ef woe.
9. On whom does time hang so heavily as on the slothful and
lazy ? To whom are the hours so weary ? Who are so often
devoured with spleen,11 and obliged to fly to every means that
can help them to get rid of themselves ?
10. The excesses of our youth are drafts upon our old age,
payable with interest, about thirty years after date.
11. Decision and obstinacy often resemble each other, though
toe is the child of wisdom, the other of error; a decided man
thinks deeply, an obstinate one seldom thinks at all.
12. Perfect valor consists in doing, without witnesses, all we
hould be capable of doing before the whole world.
*Bemember that this word ie pronounced ■/ as if it rhymed with far.
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13. Were we as eloquent as angels, jet should we please some
snen, some women, and some children, much more bj listening
than by talking.
14. There is no music like that of the human voice. Elocu¬
tion is to speech what coloring is to painting, — the thing that
eonveys vitality to the representation.
15. What a variety of objects is set before man to gratify
his senses, to employ his thoughts, to engage his fancy, and to
eheer and gladden his heart!
16. Think sometimes of the sorrows of human life, — of the
wretched poor, of the unwarmed, unfurnished apartment, of the
dying parent, of the weeping orphan.
17. Let him who would do good reflect that, while he forms
his purpose, the day rolls on, and " the night cometh, when no
man can work."
18. If we delay till to-morrow what ought to be done to¬
day, we charge the morrow with a burden that belongs not
to it.
19. A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in
the wrong; which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser
to-day than he was yesterday.
• 20. There is no vice that doth so much cover a man with
shame, as to be found false and perfidious. All that a man gets
by lying is, that he is not believed when he speaks the truth.
21. The man of true fortitude13 is_ like a castle built on a
rock, which defies the attacks of surrounding waters; the man
of a timorous spirit is like a hut placed on the shore, which81
every wind shakes and every wave overflows.
IV. — THE PRESS.
1. " The press !w — What is the press? " I cried,
When thus a wondrous voice replied:
" In me all human knowledge dwells;
The oracle of oracles,193
Past, present, future, I reveal,
Or in oblivion's silence seal;
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
85
What I preserve can perish never,
What I forego is lost forever.
2. " I speak all dialect; by me
The deaf81 may hear, the blind may see,
The dumb converse, the dead of old
Communion with the living hold :181
All lands are one benea^A my rule,
All nations learners in my school;
Men of all ages everywhere
Become contemporaries®1 there.
3 " I am an omnipresent soul;
I live and move throughout the whole;
The things of darkness I lay bare,
And, though unseen, am everywhere.'
I quicken minds from nature's sloth,
Fashion their forms, sustain their growth
And when my influence flags or flies,
Matter may live, but spirit dies.
4. " All that philosophers have sought,
Science discovered, genius wrought ;18S
All that reflective memory stores,
Or rich imagination pours;
All that the wit of man conceives,
All that he wishes, hopes, believes;
All that he loves, or fears, or hates,
All that to heaven and earth relates,
— These are the lessons that I teaoh
In speaking silence, silent speech.
5. " Ah! who like me can bless or curse ?
What can be better, what be worse,
Than language framed for Paradise,
Or solcl to infamy and vice ?
Blessed be the man by whom I bless,
And shame on him who wrongs the press!"
James Afb ntffomsry.
8
the standard fourth reader.
V.—THE CONTENTED MAN.
1 Why need I strive and sigh for wealth?
It is enough for me
That Heaven hath sent me strength and health,
A spirit glad and free :
Grateful these blessings to receive,
I sing my hymn at morn and eve.
2. On some, what floods of riches flow !
House, herds and gold, have they;
Yet life's best joys they never know,
But fret their hours away.
The more they have, they seek increase :
Complaints and cravings never cease.
3. A vale of gloom this world they call;
But, 0 ! I find it fair ;
Much happiness it has for all,
And none are grudged a share.
The little birds, on new-tried wing,
And insecfc revel in the spring.
4. For love of us, hills, woods and plains,
In beauteous hues are clad;
And birds sing far and near sweet strains,
Caught up by echoes glad.
" Rise," sings the lark, "your tasks to ply!Ci
The nightingale sings " lullaby."
5. And when the obedient sun goes forth,
And all like gold appears,
When bloom o'erspreads the glowing earth,
And fields have ripening ears,
I think these glories that I see
My kind Creator made for me.
6. Then loud I thank the Lord above,
And say, in joyful mood,
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87
His lore, it is a Father's love,
He wills to all men good.
Then let me ever grateful live,
J^ojoynig all he deigns to give.
Johann Miller.
VI. — PRESENCE OP MIND.
1. When Sir Astley Cooper, a celebrated English surgeon,
was a boy at school, and not yet thirteen years old, he gave a
memorable proof of his calm courage in dealing with that hu¬
man frame, which afterwards formed the chief subject of his
laborious study. A son of his foster-mother,®1 a lad rathei
older than himself, while driving a cart loaded with coals for the
vicar,EI fell in front of the wheel,82 which passed over his thigh
before he could regain his footing, and, besides other injuries
caused a laceration®1 of the principal artery.®1
2. The unfortunate boy was borne home utterly exhausted,
and sinking from loss of blood, which flowed so copiously that,
surgical aid not being at hand, the assembled villagers, finding
their efforts to stop it utterly futile, were in terror of his bleed¬
ing to death; when Astley, having heard of the accident, hur
ried to the place.
3. Undeterred by the feeling of sickness which the sight of
so ghastly a wound®1 naturally produces, and undismayed by
the affright of the trembling spectators, he, with consum'mate
presence of mind and a firm hand, instinctively did exactly what
should have been done, encircled the limb with his. handkerchief
above the wound, and bound it so tightly that the bleeding was
effectually stayed till the arrival of the surgeon, with whose aid
the boy was saved.
4. The faculty which he here displayed, and which is known
oy the name of " presence of mind," is one which we should all
cultivate, both with a view to our own good and that of others.
If Astley, instead of bracing himself to a manly effort, had given
wav to the agitation and alarm which had rendered the grown
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
persons about him unfit to render aid, the wounded boy might
have died from loss of blood before the surgeon could have
»eached the spot.
5. An instance similar to that related of Astley is on record,
in which a young girl exhibited equal presence of mind. A
man reaping in a field cut his arm dreadfully with his sickle,
and divided an arteryHe bled profusely; and the people
about him, both men and women, were so much stupefied with
fright, that some ran one way, some another, and some stood
stock-still. In short, he would have soon bled to death, had not
a brave girl, who came up, slipped off a scarf from her neck and
bound it tight above the wound, by which means the bleeding
was stopped till proper help could be procured.
6. We should never seek danger, for that is folly; but if
danger occur, we should call up courage to meet it firmly and
calmly. Our clones, or the house we live in, may catch fire •
we may be thrown into the wateror, when we travel in a car¬
riage,54 the horse may take fright and run away with us. In
such circumstances, our persons may suffer great hurt, or we
may even be killed. But there is the less chance of our coming
to harm if we act with prudence, and coolly do the best we can
to save ourselves.
7. In danger, some are so confounded by fright that they are
quite unable to do anything for their own protection or relief.
The danger is thus greatly increased, and they may be hurt or
killed, when others would escape. In all dangers, it is of the
greatest consequence not to become alarmed. We ought to try
to keep ourselves quiet and watchful, so as to be able to do all
that can be done to escape the impending evil.
8. Any one whose clothes catch fire ought not to run away
for assistance. While we stand or run, the clothes burn very
quickly, and soon scorch the body. It is best to throw ourselves
on the floor,58 and roll ourselves there; for then the burning
does not proceed so rapidly. If we can wrap a carpet or heav_y
woolen coverlet closely round us, we shall almost instantlj
extinguish the flames.
9. In making our way through a burning house, we ought
the standard fourth reader,
89
net, if it be full of smoke, to walk upright. We are then in
danger of being suffocated. It is best to creep along on han<&
and knees, for the freest air is to be had close to the floor.
10. If thrown into the water, and unacquainted with the art
of swimming, we should not struggle or splash, for then we
shall soon sink. We should be quiet as possible, and try to
keep our lungs inflated with air. The body is lighter than
water, and is sure to rise to the surface and remain there, if we
do not exert ourselves too violently.
11. If run away with in a light vehicle by a frightened horse,
if it appear most prudent to leave the vehicle, we should try to
let ourselves softly down behind. It is to be remembered that,
in going along in a vehicle, we acquire an im'petus, or tendency
A) move forward, which our will cannot arrest. We ought,
therefore,®1 in quitting the vehicle, to throw ourselves in the
same direction it is going, so as to prevent the sudden check
caused by reversing the impetus. Chambers.
VII. — WAS IT RIGHT?
L. An English stage-coach, filled with passengers, was pro¬
ceeding towards a large town. The conversation of the travel¬
lers turned upon highwaymen by whom the road was infested,
and who frequently stopped and searched travellers. They
debated amongst themselves as to the best means of preserving
their money. Each boasted of having taken his precautions, and
of being quite safe.
2. An imprudent young woman, wishing, doubtless, to display
her superior cleverness, and forgetting that frankness, in such
circumstances, may be ill-placed, said, " As for me, I carry all
my wealth about me in a bank-note for two hundred pounds, b#t
I have so well concealed it that the robbers will certainly never
be able to find it, for it is in my shoe, inside of my stocking."
3. A few minutes after, tk y were attached by highwaymen,
Who demanded their parses; but, discontented with the little
thsy found in them, they declared, in menacing tones, that they
8*
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would search and ill-treat the party unless they immediately gave
them a hundred pounds; and they seemed prepared to put their
threats into execution.
4. " You will easily find twice that sum," said an old man
seated at the back of the coach, who during the whole journey
had remained entirely silent, or had spoken only in monosylla¬
bles,* " if you make that lady take off her shoes and stock¬
ings."
5. The robbers followed this advice, took the bank-note, and
departed. No sooner had they disappeared than there was an
outcry against the old man, among the travellers. They loaded
him with reproach and insult, and even threatened to throw him
out of the coach. The young woman's grief exceeded descrip¬
tion. The old man seemed insensible to these insults and mena¬
ces, only once excusing himself by saying, " Every one must
think of himself first."
6. In the evening, when the coach reached its destination, the
old man contrived to make his escape before his fellow-passen¬
gers had an opportunity of visiting their displeasure upon him.
The young woman passed a frightful night. What was her sur¬
prise, on the following morning, when a sum of four hundred
•ounds was placed in her hands, together whd a magnificent
comb,65 and the following letter:
7. " Madam : The man whom yesterday you detested, with
reason, returns to you the sum you have lost, with interest
which makes it double, together with a comb nearly equal in
value. I am exceedingly distressed at the grief I was compelled
to cause you. A few words will explain my conduct. I have
just returned from India, where I have passed ten weary years.
I have gained by my industry thirty thousand pounds, and the
whole of this sum I had yesterday about me in bank-notes.
*The narrative portion of this paragraph — whioh is that portion not
included in quotation marks (see IT 6)—should be read without dropping
the voice, according to the rule given for the Parenthesis, H 171. When
similar narrative forms of speech a re inter' osed in a remark attributed to
tome character who is represented as speaking in the first person, apply the
lame rule.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
9i
8. " Had I been searched with the rigor with which we were
threatened, I must have lost everything. What was 1 to do 1
I could not run the risk of having to return to India with empty
hands. Your frankness furnished me with the means of escap¬
ing the difficwZty. Therefore" I entreat you to think nothing
of this trifling present, and to believe me henceforth, devotedly,
" Yours."
9. Now, what shall we think of the conduct of the old man in
a moral point of view ? If the robbers, notwithstanding their
promise (and the word of a robber is not to be depended on),171
had searched every one, and had taken his thirty thousand
pounds away from the old man, it would have been out of his
power to restore the two hundred pounds to the young woman,
and yet it would have been through his means that she would
have lost them.
10. In order to escape some great calamity ourselves, have
we a right to inflict an equally serious injury on another ? The
loss of the two hundred pounds was as great a calamity to the
young woman as that of the thirty thousand would have been to
the old man, since it was the whole of her wealth. The old
man wished, no doubt, to make good her loss, but in this he
might have been prevented; and in running this risk his moral
error consisted.
11. Here lies the difference between Prudence and Virtue:
Prudence commences by studying how to escape a difficulty, and
thinks it has done enough when it has promised itself to repair
the-injury inflicted on another. Virtue does not content itself
with the hope of repairing a wrong at some future day: it does
not commit it; and thus, though it is often more unfortunate, it
is always more tranquil. So that Virtue alone has no occasion
to dread the future.
12. It is in doing evil with the idea of its resulting in good,
or with the intention of repairing it, that men often plunge into
difficulties and errors, from which they are afterwards unable to
extricate themselves. Whereas, on the contrary, we ought first
of all to make sure of our virtue, and then take all the advan¬
tage wo can of circumstances. Madame Guizot.
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the standard f0crth reader.
VIII.— THE TUTOR AND HIS PUPILS.
Weli, Robert, where have you been walking, this afternoon 1
said a tutor13 to one of his pupils, at the close of a holiday.
Robert. I have been to Broom-heath, and so round by the
windmill, upon Camp-mount, and home, through the meadours by
the river-side.
Tutor. Well, that is a pleasant round.
Robert. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with a
single person. I would much rather have gone along the turn¬
pike road.
Tutor. Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you
would, indeed, be better entertained on the high road. But did
you see William ?
Robert. We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane,
bo I walked on and left him.
Tutor. That was a pity. He would have been company for
you.
Robert. 0! he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this
thing and that; I would rather walk alone. I dare say he has
not got home yet.
Tutor. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you
been?
William. 0, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broom-
heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the mount, and then
down among the green meadows by the side of the river.
Tutor. Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking;
and he complains of its dulness, and prefers the high road.
William. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step
that did not delight me, and I have brought home my handker¬
chief full of curiosities.
Tutor. Suppose, then, you give us an account of what amused
you so much. I fancy it will be as new* to Robert as to me.
William. I will do it readily. The lane leadinar to *h aeath,
you know, is close and sandy; so I did not cu it much, but
made the best of my way; however, 1 spied a curious thing
enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of which
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
93
grew a great branch of something green, quite different from
the tree itself. Here is a branch of it.
Tutor. Ah ! this is mistletoe; a plant of great fame for the
use made of it by the Druids M of old, in their religious rites
and incantations. It bears a slimy white berry, of which bird¬
lime®1 is made, whence its Latin name of viscus. It is one of
those plants which do not grow in the ground, by a root of their
own, but fix themselves upon other plants; whence they have
been humorously styled "parasitical," as being hangers-on or
dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak that the Druids
particularly honored.
William. A little further on I saw a green wood-pecker fly
to a tree, and run up the trunk like a cat.
Tutor. That was to seek for insects in the bark, on which they
live. They bore holes with their strong bills for that purpose,
and do much damage to the trees by it.
William. When I got upon the^open heath, how charming it
was ! The air seemed so fresh, and the prospect on every sid<»
so free and unbounded ! Then it was all covered with gay
flowers, many of which I had never observed before. There was
a flock of lapwings®1 upon a marshy part of the heath, that
amused me much. As I came near them, some of them kept
flying round and round, just over my head, and crying " pewit,'
so distinctly one might almost fancy they spoke. I thought I
should have caught one of them, for he flew as if one of his
wings was broken, and often tumbled close to the ground; but
as I came near he always contrived to get away.
Tutor. Ha, ha! you were finely taken in, then ! This was
ill an artifice of the bird's to entice you away from its nest;
ibr they build upon the bare ground, and their nest would easily
be observed did they not draw off the attention of intruders by
their loud cries and counterfeited lameness.
William. I wish I had known that, for he led me a long
chase, often over shoes in water. However, it was the cause of
my falling in with an old man and a boy, who were cutting and
piling up turf for fuel and I had a good deal of ta.k with
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
them about the manner of preparing the turf, and the price it
sells at.
I then took my course up to the windmill, on the* mount. 1
climbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view
of the country around. What an extensive prospect! I counted
fifteen church-steeples: and I saw several gentlemen's houses
peeping out from the midst of green woods and plantations;
and I could trace the windings of the river all along the low
grounds, till it was lost behind a ridge of hills.
From the hill I went straight down to the meadows below,
and walked on the side of a little brook till it entered the river,
and then I took the path that runs along the bank. On the
opposite side I observed several little birds running along the
shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and white,
and about as big as a snipe.
Tutor. I suppose they were sand-pipers,—one of the numerous
family of birds that get their giving by wading among the shal¬
lows, and picking up worms and insect.
William. There were a great many swallows, too, sporting
on the surface of the water, that entertained me with their
motions. Sometimes they dashed into the stream; sometimes
they pursued one another so quickly that the eye could scarcely
follow them. In one place, where a high, steep sand-bank rose
directly above the river, I observed many of them go in and out
of holes with which the bank was bored full.
Tutor. Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our four
species of swallows. They are of a mouse-color above, and
white82 benea^A They make their nests and bring up their
young in these holes, which run a great depth, and by their sit¬
uation are secure from all plunderers.
William. A little further, I saw a man in a boat, who was
catching eels in an odd way. He had a long pole, with broad
iron prongs at the end, just like Neptune's®1 trident, only there
were five instead of three. This he pushed straight down among
the mud in the deepest part of the river, and fetched up eels
sticking between the prongs.
Tutor. I have seen this method. It is called spearing of eels.
THE STANDARD rOURTH READER. 9>,
William. While I was looking at him, a heron came fiytng
over my head with his large flagging wings. He alighted at
the next trlrn of the river, and I crept softly behind the bank
to watch his motions. He had waded into the water as far as
his long legs would carry him, and was standing with his neck
drawn in, looking intently on the stream. Presently he dashed
his long bill as quick as lightning into the water, and drew out
a fish, which he swallowed. I saw him catch another in the
same manner. He then took alarm at some noise I made, and
flew away slowly to a wood at some distance, where he settled.
Tutor. Probably his nest was there; for herons build upon
the loftiest trees they can find, and sometimes in society together,
like rooks. Formerly, when these birds were valued for the
amusement of hawking,®1 many gentlemen had their heronries
and a few are still remaining.
William. I then turned homeward across the meadows, where
I stopped a while to look at a large flock of starlings, which
kept flying about at no great distance. I could not tell at first
what to make of them; for they rose altogether from the ground
as thick as a swarm of bees, and formed themselves into a kind
of black cloud, hovering over the field; after taking a short
round, they settled again,127 and presently rose again in the same
manner. I dare say there were hundreds of them.
Tutor. Perhaps so, for in the fenny®1 countries their flocks
are so numerous as to break down whole acres of reeds, by set
tling on them. This disposition of starlings to fly in close
swarms was remarked even by Homer,®1 who compares the foe
flying from one of his heroes to a cloud of starlings retiring
dismayed at the approach of the hawk.
William. After I had left the meadows, I crossed the corn¬
fields in the way to our house, and passed close by a deep marl-
pit.®1 Looking into it, I saw in one of the sides a cluster of
what I took to be shells; and upon going down, I picked up a
clod of marl, which was quite full of them; but how sea-shells
could get there, I cannot imagine.
Tutor I do not wonder at your surprise, since many philoso¬
phers have been much perplexed to account for the same appear-
96
the standard fourth reader.
ance. It is not uncommon to find great quantities of shells an*
relics of marine animals even in the bowels of high mountains
very remote from the sea.
William. I got to the high field next to our house just as the
sun was setting, and I stood looking at it till it was quite lost.
What a glorious sight! The clouds were tinged with purple
and crimson, and yellow, of all shades and hues, and the clear
sky varied from blue to a fine green at the hori'zon. But how
large the sun appears just as it sets ! I think it seems twice as
big as when it is overhead.
Tutor. It does so; and you may prpbably have observed the
same apparent129 enlargement of the moon at its rising.
William. I have: but pray what is the reason of this ?
Tutor. It is an optical™ deception, depending upon principles
which I cannot wel 1 explain to you till you know more of that
branch of science. But what a number of new ideas this after¬
noon's walk has afforded you! I do not wonder that you found
it amusing; it has been very instructing, too. Did you see
nothing of all these sights, Robert?
Robert. I saw some of them, but I did not take particular
notice of them.
Tutor. Why not ?
Robert. I do not know. I did not care about them; and I
made the best of my way home.
Tutor. That would have been right if you had been sent on
a message; but as you only walked for amusement, it would
have been wiser to have sought out as many sources of it as
possible. But so it is, — one man walks through the world
with his eyes open, and another with them shut; and upon this
difference depends all the superiority of knowledge the one
acquires above the other.
I have known a sailor who had been in all the quarters of the
world, and could tell you nothing but the signs of the tippling-
houses he frequent'ed in different ports, and the price and qual¬
ity of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin™ could not
cross the English Channel without making some observation*
useful to mankind.
THE STANDARD FOURTH REi >ER
97
While many a vacant, thoughtless youth, is whirled through,
out Europe, without gaining a single idea worth crossing a street
for, the observing eye and inquiring mind find matter for im¬
provement and delight in every ramble in town or country. Do
you, then, William, continue to make use of your eyes, and you,
Robert, learn that eyes were given you to use. Aikin.
IX.—A CHAPTER OF ADVICE.
1. I give you, in this chapter, some maxims, which I hope
you will read again and again, until they are so fixed in your
memories that they will influence you every day and every hour.
If you are governed by them, you may not become great, but
you certainly will become good; and it is much more important
to be good than to be great.
2. Rise early, and offer up your praise to the Giver of all
good. Enter steadily and fearlessly upon the duties of the day.
Be determined that no trial shall overcome your patience, and
no impediment conquer your perseverance. If your object be
a good one, say, " I will try to attain it."
3. Never be found without an object. Ask yourself how you
can do the most good; and when you have decided, throw your
soul into your purpose. Never do good to obtain praise. Take
a red-hot iron in your hand rather than a dishonest penny. Do
no bad action to serve a good friend. Be charitable to others'
faults, but implacable to your own.
4. Wage war with evil, and give no quarter. Die for the
truth, rather than live to uphold a lie. Never court needless
danger, nor fly from a peril which duty imposes. Read good
books, seek out good companions, attend to good counsels, and
imitate good examples. Never give way to despondency. Does
the sun shine ? — rejoice. Is it covered with a cloud ? — wait
till the cloud has passed away.
5. Take good care of your education; see that your princi¬
ples and your deportment are equal to your attainments. I
knew one whoso head was highly educated, but whose heart was
9
08
the standard fourth reader.
sadly neglected. He was too learned to honor his unlettered
parents; too well-informed to follow the advice of his friends ;
and by far too polite to practise the vulgar duties of his situation.
6. Tl\is person is now spending his days in idleness, as low
in the estimation of others as he is high in his own. If you
wish to be good, great or wise, you must begin while you are
young, or you will never begin at all Be attentive to your
manners. Those are the best manners which raise you in the
opinion of others without sinking you in your own.
7. A poor woman once fell and injured herself so that she
could not walk, and a crowd soon gathered around her. One
polite person pitied her, another promised to make her case
known; but a plain, modest-looking man stepped forward, paid
for a coach to convey her home, slipped a piece of money into
her hand, and disappeared. One kind act, done with simplicity,
is worth a thousand fine speeches. Brunt.
X.—TRUST NOT TO APPEARANCES,
1. Early one day in leafy June,
When brooks and birds are all in tune,
A quaker, on a palfrey11 brown,
Was riding over Horsley Down.
2. Though he could see no houses near,
He trotted on without a fear;
For not a thief upon the road
Would guess where he his cash had stowed.
3. As thus he went — that Quaker sly —
A second Quaker trotted by; —
"Stop, brother! " said the first,* " the weather
Is pleasant — let us chat together." •
4. " Nay," said the stranger, " know'st thou not
That this is a suspected spot ?
That robbers here resort, my brother ? "
" A fig for robbers ! " said the other; —
THE STANIARD FOURTH READER.
8&
5 "I'ye all my money in a note,
And that is hid — not in my coat —
But — " — " Where ? " the other asked. — " Behold!*
— " WTiat! in your shoe ? " — " The secret's told !
6. " You see it has a double sole :
Within that I have hid the whole :
Now, whero's the robber who would think
Of ever looking there for chink ? "
7. "Here! " cried the stranger; — "so dismount,
And straightway render an account:
1 'm Captain Bibb, the.robber trim,
So hand your money quick to him.
8. " Don't tremble — all you've got to do,
You know, is to take off your shoe;
And for your money I will give
Advice194 shall serve you while you live:
9. " Don't take each broad-brim chance may send,
Though plain his collar, for a Friend;
Don't trust in gentleman or clown
While riding over Horsley Down ! "
Osborne.
XI.— NOT AFRAID OF BEING LAUGHED AT.
1. I shall never forget a lesson which I received when quite
a young lad, at an academy in the village of B . Among
•my schoolfellows were Hartley and Jemson. They were some¬
what older than myself, and to the latter I looked up as to a
sort of leader in matters of opinion as well as of sport. He
was not at heart malicious, but he had a foolish ambition of
being thought witty and sarcastic,®1 and he made himself feared
by a besetting habit of turning things into ridicule, so that he
seemed continually on the look-out for matter for derision.
2. Hartley was a new62 scholar, and little was known of him
among the boys. One morning, as we were on our way to school,®1
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I HE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
he was seen driving a cow along the road towards161 a neighbor
ing field. A group of boys, among whom was Jemson, met him
as he was passing. The opportunity was one not to be lost by
Jemson. " Holloa ! " he exclaimed; " what's the price of milk ?
I say, Jonathan, what do you fodder her on? What will you
take for all that gold on her horns ? Boys, if you want to see
the latest Paris style, look at those boots ! "
3. Hartley waved his hand at us with a pleasant smile, and,
driving the cow on to the field, took down the bars of a rail fence,
saw her safely in the enclosure, and then, putting up the bars,
came and entered school with the rest of us. After school in
the afternoon he let out the cow, and drove her off, none of us
knew where.82 And every day, for two or three weeks, he went
through the same task.
4. The boys of the B academy were nearly all the sons
of wealthy parents,129 and some of them, among whom was J em-
son, were dunces enough to look down with a sort of disdain
upon a scholar who had to drive a cow. The sneers and jeers
of Jemson were accordingly often117 renewed. He once, on the
plea that he did n't like the odor of the barn, refused to sit137
next to Hartley. Occasionally he would inquire after the cow's
health, pronouncing the word " ke-ou," after the manner of some
of the country people.
5. With admirable good-nature did Hartley bear all these
silly attempts to wound®1 and annoy him. I do not remember
that he was even once betrayed into a look or word of angry
retaliation. "I suppose, Hartley," said Jemson, one day, "I
suppose your daddy means to make a milkman of you." — " Why
not ? " asked Hartley. — " 0 ! nothing ; only don't leave too
much water in the cans after you rinse them — that's all! " The
boys laughed, and Hartley, not in the least mortified, replied,
" Never fear; if ever I should rise to be a milkman, I '11 give
good measure and good milk."
6. The day after this conversation there was a public exhibi¬
tion, at which a number of ladies and gentlemen from neighbor¬
ing cities were present. Prizes were awarded by the Principal
:f our academy, and both Hartley and Jemson received a credit
THE STANDARD "FOURTH READER,
101
able number; for, in respect to scholarship, these two were about
equal. After the ceremony of distribution, the Principal re¬
marked that there was one prize, consisting of a gold medcd,
which was rarely awarded, not so much on account of its great
cost, as because the instances were rare which rendered its be¬
stowal proper. It was the prize for heroism. The last boy who
received one was young Manners, who, three years ago, rescued
the blind girl from drowning.
7. The Principal then said that, with the permission of the
company, he would relate a short story: "Not long since,
some scholars were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor boy
on horseback rode by on his way to mill. The horse took fright
and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he was carried
home, and confined some weeks to his bed. Of the scholars
who had unintentionally caused the disaster, none followed tc
learn the fate of the wounded boy. There was one scholar,
however, who had witnessed the accident from a distance, who
not only went to make inquiries, but stayed to render services.
8. " This scholar soon learned that the wounded boy was the
grandson of a poor "widow, whose sole means of support consisted in
selling the milk of a fine cow of which she was the owner. Alas !
what could she do now ? She was old and lame, and her grand¬
son, on whom she had depended to drive the cow to pasture, was
now on his back, helpless.— 'Never mind, good woman,' said
the scholar, ' I can drive your cow.' With blessings and thanks
the old woman accepted his offer.
9. " But his kindness did not stop here. Money was wanted
to get articles from the apothecary. ' I have some money that
my mother sent me to buy a pair of boots with,' said the
scholar;' but I can do without them for a while.' — ' 0, no,' said
the old woman; ' I can't consent to that; but here is a new pair
of cow-hide boots that I bought for Henry, who now can't wear
them. If you would only buy these, giving us what they cost,
we should get along nicely.' — The scholar bought the boots,
clumsy as they were, and has worn them up to this time.
10. "Well, when it was discovered by other boys of the
academy that our scholar was in the habit of driving a cow, he
9*
102
THB STANDARD FOURTH READER.
was assailed almost every day with laughter and ridicule. His
cow-hide boots in particular were made matter for mirth. But
he kept on cheerfully and bravely, day after day, never shunning
observation, driving the widow's- cow, and wearing his thick
boots, contented in the thought that he was doing right, caring
not for all the jeers and sneers that could be uttered. He never
undertook to explain why he drove a cow; for he was not inclined
to make a vaunt of his charitable motives, and, furthermore, in
his heart he had no sympathy with the false pride that could
look with ridicule on any useful employment. It was by mere
accident that his course of kindness and self-denial was yesterday
discovered by his teacher.
11. " And now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you if there
was not true heroism in this boy's conduct. Nay, Master Hart¬
ley, do not slink out of sight behind the blackboard! You were
not afraid of ridicule; you must not be afraid of praise. Come
forth, come forth, Master Edward James Hartley, and let us see
yo.ur honest face!"
12. As Hartley, with blushing cheeks, made his appearance,
what a round of applause, in which the whole company joined,
spoke the general approbation of his conduct! The ladies stood
up on benches and waved their handkerchiefs. The old men
wiped the gathering moisture from the corners of their eyes,
and clapped their hands. Those clumsy boots on Hartley's feet
seemed a prouder ornament than a crown would have been on
his head. The medal was bestowed on him amid general accla¬
mation.
13. Let me tell a good thing of Jemson before I conclude.
He was heartily ashamed of his habit of ill-natured raillery,49
and, after we were dismissed, he went up, with the tears of "La
manly self-rebuke in his eyes, and tendered his hand to Hartley,
making a handsome apology for his past insolence and ill man¬
ners. " Think no more of it, old fellow," said Hartley, with
delightful cordiality; " let us all go and have a good ramble in
the woods !Tefore~we break up for vacation." The boys, one by
one, followed Jemson's example; and then we set forth, with
huzzas into the woods. What a happy day it was!
Osborne
the standard fourth reader. 103
XII. — THE LADY WHO DISPUTED ON TRIFLES.
1. One day when Griselda's husband had not returned home
Exactly at the appointed minute,*1 she received him with a
frown: — " Dinner has been kept waiting for you this hour, my
dear," she said. — " I am very sorry for it," he replied; " but
why did you wait, my dear? I am really very sorry I am so
late, but" (looking at his watch) " it is only half-past six by
me;"
2. "It is seven by me." — They presented their watches to
each other; he in an apologet'ical, she in a reproachful atti¬
tude. " I rather think you are too fast, my dear," said the gen¬
tleman.
3. " I am very sure you are too slow, my dear," said the lady.
— "My watch never loses a minute in the four-and-twenty
hours," said he. — " Nor mine a second," said she.
4. " I have reason to believe I am right, my love," said the
husband, mildly. —■ " Reason ! " exclaimed the wife, astonished.
" What reason can you possibly have to believe you are right,
when I tell you I am morally certain you are wrong, my
love " My only reason for doubting it is, that I set my
watch by the sun to-day."
5. " The sun must be wrong, then," cried the lady, hastily.
" You need not laugh; for I know what I am saying — the
variation, the declination, must be allowed for in computing it
with the clock. Now, you know perfectly well what I mean,
though you will not explain it for me, because you are conscious
I am in the right."
6. " Well, my dear, if you are conscious of it, that is suffi¬
cient ; we will not dispute any more about such a trifle. Are
they bringing up dinner ? "
7. " If they know that you are come in; but I am sure I
cannot tell whether they do or not. — Pray, my dear Mrs. Net-
tleby," cried the lady, turning to a female friend, and still hold¬
ing her watch in hand, " what o'clock is it by ycu ? There is
nobody in the world hates disputing about trifles so much as I
104
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
do; but I own I do love to convince people that I am in the
right."
8. Mrs. Nettleby's watch had stopped. — How provoking!
Vexed at having no immediate means of convincing people that
she was in the right, our heroine consoled herself by proceeding
to criminate®1 her husband, not in this particular instance, where
he pleaded guilty, but upon the general charge of being always
late for dinner, which he strenuously denied.7 # # #
9. One morning, not long after this little dispute, Griselda
and her husband were present, while Emma was busy showing
some poor children how to plait straw, for hats. " Next sum¬
mer my dear, when we are settled at home," said Mr. Boling-
broke to his lady, " I hope you will encourage some manufacture
of this kind among the children of our tenants."
10. "I have no genius for teaching manufactures of this
sort," replied Mrs. Bolingbroke, scornfully. Her husband urged
the matter no further. A few minutes afterward, lie drew out a
straw from a bundle which one of the children held. — " This is
a fine straw," said he, carelessly. *
11. " Fine straw! " cried Mrs. Bolingbroke; " no, that is
very coarse. This," continued she, pulling one from another
bundle, "this is a fine straw, if you please." — "I think mine
is the finer," said Mr. Bolingbroke.
12. " Then you must be blind, Mr. Bolingbroke," cried the
lady, eagerly comparing them. — "Well, hay dear," said he,
laughing, " we will not dispute about straws."
18. " No, indeed," said she; " but I observe, whenever you
know you are in the wrong, Mr. Bolingbroke, you say, 'We will
not dispute, my dear:' now, pray look at these straws, Mrs.
Granby, you that have eyes, — which is the finer ? "
14. " I will draw lots," said Emma, taking one playfully from
Mrs. Bolingbroke; " for it seems to me that there is little or no
difference between them." — " No difference? 0, my dear Em¬
ma ! " said Mrs. Bolingbroke. — " My dear Griselda," criea
her husband, taking the other straw from her, and blowing it
away, "indeed, it is not worth disputing about: this is toe
ehildish."
the standard fourth reader.
105
15. " Childish ? " repeated she, looking after the straw, as it
floated down the wind; " I see nothing childish in being in the
tight: your raising your voice in that manner never convinces
me. Jupiter®1 is always in the wrong, you know, when he has
recourse to his thunder."
16. " Thunder, my dear Grriselda, about a straw! — Well,
when women are determined to dispute, it is wonderful how
ingenious they are in finding subjects. I give you joy, my dear,
of having attained the perfection of the art; you can now
literally dispute about straws." Miss Edgeworth
XIII. — ABANDONMENT OF THE AGED AMONG INDIANS.
1. The worst trait in the character of the' North American
Indians®1 is the neglect shown towards the aged35 and helpless.
This is carried to such a degree, that on a march or a huntiw^r
excursion, it is a common practice for Indians to leave behind
their nearest relations, if old and infirm, giving them a little food
and water, and then abandoning them without ceremony to their
fate. When thus forsaken by all that is dear to them, the for¬
titude of these old people -does not forsake them, and their
inflexible Indian courage sustains them against despondency.
They regard themselves as entirely useless ; and as the custom
of the nation has long led them to anticipate this mode of death,
they attempt not to remonstrate against the measure, which is,
in fact, often * the result of their own solicitation.
2. Catlin, one of the most zealous defenders of the Indian
character, relates the following scene, of which he was an eye
witness in the year 1840: "We found that the Puncahs were
packing up all their goods, and preparing to start for the prai¬
ries®1 in pursuit of buffaloes, to dry meat for their winter's sup¬
plies. They took down their wigwams®1 of skins to carry with
them. My attention was directed by Major Sanford, the Indian
agent, to one of the most miserably and helpless-looking objects
I ever had seen in my life — a very aged and emaciated man
* Practise the Exercises under n. page 38.
106
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
of the tribe, who, he told me, was going to be ' exposed.' The
tribe were going where hunger and dire necessity obliged them
to go; and this pitiable object, who had once been a chief, and a
man of distinction in his tribe, but who was now too old to
travel, being reduced to mere skin and bone, was to be left to
starve, or meet with such death as might fall to his lot, and his
bones to be picked by the wolves !
3. " I lingered around this poor, forsaken134 patriarch, for
hours before we started. I wept; and it was a relief to weep,
looking at the old, abandoned veteran, whose eyes were®1 dimmed,
whose venerable locks were whitened82 by a hundred years, whose
limbs were almost naked, and who trembled with cold as he sat
by a small fire which his friends "had left him, with a few sticks
of wood within his reach, and a buffalo's skin stretched upon
some crotches®1 over his head. Such was to be his only dwelling,
and such were the chances for his life, with only a few half-
picked bones within his reach, and a dish of water, without
means of any kind to replenish his supply, or to move his body
from that fatal locality!
4. " His friends and his children133 had all left him, and
were preparing in a little time to be on their march. He had
told them to leave him; ' he was old,' he said, ' and too feeble
to march.' ' My children,' said he, ' our nation is poor, and it
is necessary you should all go to the country where you can get
meat. My eyes are dimmed, and my strength is no more ; my
days are nearly all numbered, and I am a burden to my children ;
I cannot go, and I wish to die. Keep your hearts stout, and
think not of me; I am no longer good for anything.' In this
way they had finished the ceremony of exposing him, and taken
their final leave of him. I advanced to the old man, and was
undoubtedly the last human being who held converse88 with him.
I sat by the side of him, and though he could not distinctly see
me, he shook me heartily by the hand, and smiled, evidently
aware that I was a white man, and that I sympathized with his
inevitable misfortune.
5. " When passing by the site of the Puncah village a few
Months after this, in my canoe,571 went ashore with my men..
the standard fourth reader.
107
and found the poles and the buffalo-skin standing as they were
left over the old man's head. The fire-brands were lying nearly
as I had left them; and I found, at a few yards' distance, the
skull and other bones of the old man, which had been picked
and cleaned by the wolves, which is probably all that any human
being can ever know of his final and melancholy fate. This
cruel custom of exposing their aged people belongs, I think, to
all the tribes who roam about the prairies, making severe
marches, when such decrepit13 persons are totally unable to go,
unable to ride or to walk, and when they have no means of oar
rying them."
XIV. — THE ANT AND THE GLOW-WORM : A FABLE.
1. When night had spread its darkest shade,
And e'en the stars no light conveyed,
A little Ant, of humble72 gait,
Was pacing homeward somewhat late.
2. Rejoiced was she to keep in sight
A splendid Glow-worm's useful light,
Which, like a lantern, clear, bestowed
Its service o'er her dangerous road.
3. Passing along with footstep firm,
She thus addressed the glittering worm :
" A blessing, neighbor, on your light!
I kindly thank you for't. Good-night! "
4. " What! " said the vain, though gifted thing
" Do you employ the light I bring ?
If so, I '11 keep it out of view;
I do not shine for such as you."
It proudly then its light withdrew.
5 Just then a traveller passing by, —
Who had beheld with curious eye
The beauteous lustre, now put out,—
Left all in darkness and in doubt.
108
the standard fourth reader.
Unconscious stepped his foot aside.
And crushed the Glow-worm in its pride-
6. God, in his wise and bounteous love,
Has given us talents to improve;
And those who hide the precious store
May do187 much harm, but suffer more.
Anon
XY. — SCRIPTURAL PROVERBS.
1. A false balance is an abomination to the Lord; but a just
weight is his delight. A good name is rather to be chosen than
great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold. A
man's pride shall bring him low; but honor shall uphold the
humble72 in spirit. A merry heart doeth good like a medicine :
but a broken spirit drieth the bones.
2. A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast; but the
tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. A soft answer turneth
away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger. As the crack¬
ling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool. As
vinegar to the teeth, and as smoke to the eyes, so is the slug¬
gard to them that send him.
3. Better is a dry morsel and quietness therewith, than a
house full of sacrifices * with strife. Better is a little with
righteousness, than great revenues without right. Boast not
thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may
bring forth. By much slothfulness the building decayeth; and
through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through.
4. Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after
many days. Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted
wise, and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of under¬
standing. Faithful are the wounds®1 of a friend; but the kisses
of an enemy are deceitful. Fear God and keep his command¬
ments; for this is the whole duty of man. Go to the ant, thou
sluggard ! consider her ways and be wise. He that is slow to
* Praotise the Exercises under the thirty-second elementary sound, pages
II and 42.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
anger 13 better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit
than he that taketh a city.
5. He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord.
He tnat hideth hatred with lying lips, and he that uttereth a
[danaer, is a fool. He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely;
but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. If sinners
entice thee, consent thou not. If thou faint in the day of
adversity, thy strength is small. Let another man praise thee
and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips.
6. Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty; open thine
eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread. Of making many
books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the
flesh. Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit
before a fall. Righteousness exalteth a nation; bat sin is a
reproach to any people.
7. Say not unto thy neighbor, " Go, and come again,127 and
to-morrow I will give," when thou hast it by thee. Seest thou
a man that is hasty in his words; there is more hope of a fool
than of him. The drunkard and the glutton shall come to pov¬
erty ; and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags. The hand
of the diligent shall bear rule; but the slothful shall be under
tribute.
8. The labor of the righteous tendeth to life; the fruit of
the wicked, to sin. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle
to the strong. The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, whether
he eat little or much; but the abundance of the rich will not
suffer him to sleep. The sluggard will not plough®1 by reason
of the cold; therefore®1 shall he beg in harvest, and have
nothing.
9. The slothful man saith, " There is a lion without; I shall
be slain in the streets!" The wicked flee when no man pur-
sueth; but the righteous are bold as a lion. The wise shall
inherit glory; but shame shall be the promotion of fools. There
is,194 that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ;143 there is, that
maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.
10. There is, that scattereth, and yet increaseth; anS there
is, that whAholdeth more than is meet but it tendeth to pov«
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erty. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he
is old he will not depart from it. Where no wood is, then the
6re goeth out; so where there is no tale-bearer, the strife ceaseth.
When pride cometh, then cometh shame; but with the lowly is
wisdom.
11. Wine is a mocker; strong drink is raging • and whoso¬
ever is deceived thereby is not wise. Yet a little sleep, a little
slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep: so shall thy
poverty 'come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed"
man.
XVI. — A PASTORAL HYMN.
1. " Gentle pilgrim, tell me why
Dost thou fold thine arms and sigh,
And wistful21 cast thine eyes around?—
Whither, pilgrim, art thou bound ? "
2. " The road to Zion's21 gates I seek;
If thou canst inform me, speak! "
3. " Keep yon right-hand path with care,
Though crags obstruct, and brambles tear i
You just discern a narrow track, —
Enter there, and turn not back."
4. " Say where that pleasant pathway leads,
Winding down yon flowery meads ?
Song or dance the way beguiles;
Every face is drest in smiles."
5. " Shun with care that flowery way;
'T will lead thee, pilgrim, far astray.'
6. " Guide or counsel do I need ? "
7. " Pilgrim, he who runs may read."
8. "Is the way that I must keep
Crossed by waters wide and deep ? "
9. " Did it lead through flood and fire,
Thou must not stop — thou must not tire."
the standard eourth reader.
Ill
10. " Till X have my journey past,
Tell me will the daylight last?
Will the sky be bright and clear
Till the evemw7 shades appear ? "
11. " Though the sun now rides so high,
Clouds may veil the evening sky;
Fast sinks the sun, fast wears the day,
Thou must mot stop, thou must not stay:
God speed thee, pilgrim, on thy way ! "
Mrs. Barbauld.
XVII. — SOCRATES.
1 Soc'-ra-tes, the Greek philosopher, was one of the wisest
and best men of antiquity. " He was," says Xen'ophon, the his¬
torian, " so pious, that he undertook nothing without asking
divine assistance; so just, that he never did the smallest injury
to any one, but rendered essential services to many; so temper
ate, that he never preferred pleasure to virtue; and so wise, that
he was able, even in the most difficult cases, without advice, to
judge what was expedient and right." He spent his whole life
in endeavoring to make his fellow-creatwres better and happier.
2. He was remarkable for the power he had acquired of con¬
trolling his disposition to anger, which was naturally great. He
desired his friends to apprise him when they saw him ready to
fall into a passion. At the first hint of the kind from them, he
softened79 his tone, and was silent. Finding himself once in great
emotion against197 a slave, " I would beat you," said he, " if I
were not angry."
3. Having received a box on the ear, he contented himself by
only saying, with a smile, " It is a misfortune not to know when
to put on a helmet." On another occasion, meeting a gentleman
of rank in the street Socrates saluted him, but the gentleman
took no notice of it. Some friends in company with Socrates,
observing what passed, told the philosopher " that they were
so exasperated at the man's incivility, they had a good mind to
?esent it."
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4. But he very calmly made answer, " If you meet any per¬
son on the road in a worse habit of body tlian yourself, would
you think that you had reason to be enraged at him on that
account ? If not, pray, then, what greater reason can you have
for being incensed at a man of worse habit of mind than any of
yourselves ? "
5. But, without going out of his own house, he found enough
to exercise his patience in all its extent. Xantip*pe, his wife,
put it to the severest proofs by her captious,®1 passionate, vio»
lent disposition. Never was a woman of so furious and fantas¬
tical®1 a spirit, and so bad a temper. There was no kind of abuse
or injurious treatment which, he had not to experience from her.
6. She was once so transported with rage against him, that
she tore off his cloak in the open street. Whereupon his friends
told him that such treatment was insufferable, and that he ought
to give her a severe drubbing for it. " Yes, a fine piece of sport,
indeed," replied he; " while she and I were®1 buffeting one
another, you, in your turns, I suppose, would animate us on to
the combat i38 while one cried out,' Well done, Socrates!' another
would say, ' Well hit, Xantip'pe !'"
7. At another time, his wife having vented all the reproaches
her fury could suggest, he went out and sat before the door.
His calm and unconcerned behavior did but irritate her so much
the more; and, in the excess of her rage, she ran up stairs and
emptied a pail of foul water upon his head: at which he only
laughed, and said, " So much thunder must needs produce a
shower."
8. Notwithstanding his blameless life and great moral worth,
Socrates did not escape calumny. There was a set of teachers
who had great reputation and influence in Athens, on account of
their plausible speeches, though they had no regard for truth
and only aimed at showing off their abilities. These Sophists,
as they were called, detested Socrates; for he was unsparing in
his efforts to expose their errors, and save tbe young men from
being misled by them.
9. He was, at the same time, disliked by many other persons,
on account of his zeal in denouncing certain corruptions in the
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113
sta te, by which they profited. In short, ho was too honest for
his time, and for the people amongst whom he lived.
10. The enemies of Socrates conspired to ruin him, and cal¬
umny was the means adopted for this end. The Athenians, like
many other ancient nations, worshipped, a great variety of gods;
but Socrates was inclined to believe that there was but one true
God, the author of alb things; although, from a degree of pru¬
dence, ip which he erred, he deemed it best to conform, in some
measure, to the superstitions of his fellow-citizens, and to con¬
ceal his real opinions.
11. His enemies knew well what the ignorant multitude would
think of him, if once convinced that he disbelieved in or despised
their gods. They therefore13 began to insinuate publicly that
Socrates did not acknowledge the gods whom the state acknowl¬
edged, and that he corrupted the youth of the city with hia
strange doctrines.
12. His pure life and true wisdom could not save him from
the effects of these calumnies. Convinced that he was an im¬
pious wretch, the people forgot ell their former respect for him,
and wished that he should be brought to punishment. When his
character had thus been ruined, his enemies came openly for-
ward, and accused him, before judges, of what, even had it been
true, would have been no offenceEI at all.
13. Socrates ably defended himself; but the judges, being
prejudiced against him, found him guilty, and condemned him to
die by drinking poison. Socrates submitted to the sentence
with cheerfulness ; showing, in his last moments, the most com¬
plete confidence in the belief that death was but a step to a
higher and better life. Thus was one of the greatest sages the
world ever saw destroyed through the effects of a base calumny,
XVIII.— THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS.
1. " You are old, Father William," the young man cried
" The few locks which are left you are gray;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man •
Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
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LI 4
the standard fourth reader.
2. " In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
" I remembered that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
That I never might need them at last."
8. " You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
" And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
4. " In the days of my youth,' father William replied,
" I remembered that youth could not last J
1 thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past;"
5. " You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
" And life must be hastening away ;
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death;
Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
6. " I am cheerful, young mdfh," Father William replied ;
" Let the cause thy attention engage :
In the days of my youth I remembered my God,
And He hath not forgotten my age."
Robert Southey.
xix.— "overcome evil with good."
1. When one person expresses hatred to another, or attempts
to injure him, the first feeling of the person so hated, or liable to
be injured, is usually of an angry kind. He hates in turn, or
he stands indignantly up for his rights. This is natural, just as
it is natural for a child to creep before he can walk, or lisp be¬
fore he can speak. But as creeping and lisping at first do not
form any objection to walking and speaking afterwards, so are
those angry feelings which so readily occur to us no .argument
why we should not come to treat those who hate or injure us in
a different manner.
2. If we always find that kindling up in anger, and returning
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115
evil138 for evil prolongs mischief to ourselves as well as to the
other party, but that we stop mischief, and make ourselves
happy, by a kind and forgiving behavior, there is no reason why
we should not prefer the latter mode. The one plan is, in fact,
as natural as the other, although with most persons it is not the
one first thought of.
3. But is it really best to treat our enemies kindly ? This is
the great question. We shall endeavor to prove that such is
the case.—It is matter of common observation, that, when
unloving words or looks arc '-resented by the like, a complete
division takes place between the parties. The hatred of the first
person is deepened: he becomes a more unpleasant neighbor
than he was before. And, because bad words have been used to
him, his pride is touched, and he determines to show no symptom
of relenting.
4. But if, on the contrary, the object of his antip'athy had
refrained from angry words or looks, and addressed him in a
friendly manner, his first feelings, which were probably of a
slight kind, would have given way, and he would have been at
once reconciled. Thus the evil would have been cut short at the
very first, and those would have been friends who otherwise
would be sure to become enemies, perhaps for the remainder of
their lives.
" The best revenge is love : — disarm
Anger with smiles ; heal wounds with balm •
Give water to thy thirsting foe ;
The sandal-tree, as if to prove
How sweet to conquer hate by love,
Perfumes88 the axe that lays it low."
5. An affecting and beautiful example occurs in the histcry
of David. Purswed by Saul in the wilderness of Enge'di,70 he
was lying concealed with his few followers, in a cave, when the
king and his party entered. David might have killed the king
if he had chosen, and his friends advised him to do it. But ho
resolved upon a better course. He only cut off the skirt of Saul'C
robe. When the king had departed, David followed and called
after him. The rest may be told in the language of Scripture,
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6. " And when Saul looked behind him^David stooped with
his face to the earth, and bowed himself. And David said to Saul,
Wherefore®1 hearest thou men's words, saying, Behold, David
seeketh thy hurt ? Behold, this day thine eyes have seen how
that the Lord had delivered thee to-day into mine hand in the
cave : and some bade me kill thee; but mine eye spared theo:
and I said, I will not put forth mine hand against my Lord; for
he is the Lord's anointed.
7. " Moreover, my father, see; yea,rj see the skirt of thy
robe in my hand: for in that I cut off the skirt of thy robe,
and killed thee not, know thou and see that there is neither evil
nor transgression in mine hand, and I have not sinned against
thee: yet thou huntest my soul to take it. The Lord judge
between me and thee, and the Lord avenge me of thee: but
mine hand shall not be upon thee.
8. " As saith the proverb of the ancients, Wickedness pro-
ceedeth from the wicked : but mine hand shall not be upon thee.
After whom is the King of israel come out ? after whom dost
thou pursue ? —after a dead dog, after a flea ? The Lord, there¬
fore, be judge, and judge between me and thee, and see, and
plead my cause, and deliver me out of thine hand. And it
came to pass, when David had made an end of speaking these
words unto Saul, that Saul said, Is this thy voice, my son
David?
9. " And Saul lifted up his voice, and wept. And he said to
David, Thou art more righteous than I; for thou hast rewarded
me good, whereas I have rewarded thee evil. And thou hast
showed this day how that thou hast dealt well with me: foras¬
much as, when the Lord had delivered me into thine hand, thou
killedst me not. For if a man find his enemy, will he let him
go well away ? Wherefore the Lord reward thee good for that
thou hast done unto me this day."
XX. — VIVIA PKRPETUA.
1. In the history of persecutions inflicted on the early Chris¬
tians, the cruelties practised under the reign of Se-ve'rus are
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11
conspicuous. Severu3 was a warlike Emperor of Rome, and his
rule extended over* a large portion of Africa, as well as of
Europe. He published cruel edicfs®1 against the Christians, for¬
bidding them to profess the name of Christ.
2. The reasons for this hostility were various; but the prin¬
cipal cause is no doubt to be found in the calumnies heaped upon
the Christians by Heathen®1 priests, and other defenders of a
corrupt and abominable system of superstition. It was laid to
the charge of the Christians that they were guilty of secret
crimes in their religious rites; and the fury of an unthinking
populace was thus excited against them.
3. The city of Carthage, in Africa, about the year 202, was
the scene of much sanguinary violence against Christians.
Among the distinguished martyrs here was a young Christian
woman of noble birth, named Vivia Perpet'ua. She was the
mother of an infant but a few weeks old, but this circumstance
did not save her from persecution. She was seized and impris¬
oned.
4.' Is it not almost incredible that men could be found who
would thus persecute a fellow-creature whose only crime was a
difference in opinion on religious subjects ? Alas ! let us beware
of the first violations of the law of charity; for we know not to
what excesses an uncharitable temper, aided by bigotry®1 and
superstition, may lead us.
5. Vivia Perpetua had a father, who was tenderly attached
to her; but he was a pagan,®1 and eagerly did he strive to make
her abjure®1 her faith. " Eor your child's sake," said he, " if
not for your father's, 0, my daughter, give up your Christian
profession."- He visited her in prison, and besought her to take
pity on his gray hairs, and yield to the state's authority. She
remained firm, though not unmoved.
6. On the following day she was examined, with other Chris¬
tian prisoners, before a cruel magistrate, named Hilarian.
"Come," said Hilarian, " you have only to sacrifice* to the gods
for the emperor's prosperity, and you will be released."-— "I
* See the Exercises under the thirty-second elementary sound, page 41
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
cannot do it," said Vivia. — " Are®1 you, then, a Christian ?'
inquired Hilarian. — "I am," was her firm reply.
7. As her father heard the words uoKvh doomed her, he
attempted to draw her off from the platform on which she stood.
Hilarian commanded that he should be beaten away. The
wretched old man received a blow with a stick, whilst the judge
condemned Yivia and other Christians to be exposed to wild
beasts in the amphitheatre.®1 Yivia's infant was taken away
from her, and she was led back to prison.
8. On the 7th of March, 202, Yivia left the prison for the
amphitheatre. She was accompanied by a female slave, named
Felic'itas, who was also a Christian, and was to suffer with her.
When they reached the gate of the amphitheatre, the guard
tried to make them put on certain idolatrous badges or robes;
but Yivia refused, and said that they had come relying on the
promise that they should not be forced to do anything contrary
to their faith. They were suffered to pass on without them.
9.- They entered the amphitheatre. Yivia sang, like one who
had already conquered. Another Christian, as they passed
before the balcony where Hilarian sat, said to him, "You judge
us187 in this world, but God will judge you in the next." —
" Scourge them! " cried some one in the crowd; and, as they
passed along, one of the officers applied the lash to each.
10. Yivia and Felicitas were exposed to a wild cow. Vivia
was the first attacked. The cow tossed her up ; she fell on hex
back, but soon sat up. Her clones were torn and.disordered,
she gathered them around her, then got up, calmly fastened her
loosened hair, and, perceiving Felicitas lying on the ground,
much hurt, she helped her to rise.
11. They stood up together in the a-re'na,EI quietly expect¬
ing the rest. Was not the spectacle enough to melt a heart of
stone ? Alas! it did not move the hearts of that cruel, heathen
people. Of what is not human nature capable, when unsanc-
tified by the grace of true religion ?
12. The wild cow was more mercifui than the bigoted heathens.
She did not renew her attack. But Vivia and Felicitas were
led forth into the centre of the arena, to die there by the hand
the standard fourth reader. lly
of man, within view of all. The two heroic martyrs gave eaclr
other the kiss of peace, and meekly resigned themselves to their
fate.
13. An unskilful gladiator" prolonged the torments of Yivia,
by inflicting many slight wounds before the final one. Her
hand, more steady than his in that awful moment, had to guido
to her own throat the sword" that was to close her pure and
short mortal existence.
14. What is there in human history more noble than the
devotion of these women, preferring* to die rather than to do
what their sanctified consciences forbade ? Yivia Perpetua and
Felicitas are amongst the most illustrious of Christian martyrs.
For three centuries their venerable 'relics were preserved in the
great church of Carthage. The serine is fallen, the relics are
ost; but the memory of these two noble women still lives.
Osborne.
XXI.— RECEIVE ALL AS FOR YOUR GOOD.
1. A merchant was once riding home from the fair," with a
knapsack full of money behind him. It rained heavily, and the
good man was wet through and through. He was discontented
in consequence, and complained bitterly that Providence had
sent him such bad weather for his journey.
2. His way led him through a thick wood. Here, with horror,
he saw a robber, who pointed a gun at him, and pulled the trigger.
The merchant would have been killed, without a chance of escape;
but, owing to the rain, the powder had become damp, and the
gun did not go off. He put the spur to his horse, and quickly
escaped the danger.
3. When he was in safety, he thus said to himself: " What a
graceless simpleton I was when I abused the bad weather, and did
not rather take it patiently as a dispensation of God! Had the
* According to Walker, the e in the second syllable of this word (as well
as of conferrer, conferring, Ac.) should have its regular short sound, as in ter¬
ror, herring, &o., and not the short and obtuse sound which we give to the e
before r iu her, prefer, Ac. — See paragraph 107, page 44.
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
sky* been brighter, and the air clear and dry, I should now be
lying dead in my blood, and my children would have waited in
vain for my return home. The rain, at which I grumbled, has
saved both my property and my life. In future, I will not
again forget what the proverb says:
4 Howe'er4 concealed from us the kind intent,
The ways of God are all in mercy meant.' "
XXII. — RAIN IN SUMMER.
1. How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, in
the broad and fiery street, in the narrow lane, — how beautiful
is the rain!
2. How it clatters along the roofs, like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out, from the throat of the over¬
flowing spout!
3. Across the window-pane it pours and pours; and swift
and wide, with a muddy tide, like a river down the gutter roars,
— the rain, the welcome rain !
4. The sick man from his chamber looks at the twisted brooks;
he can feel the cool breath of each little pool; his fevered brain
grows calm again, and he breathes a blessing on the rain.
5. From the neighboring school come the boys, with more
than wonted noise and commotion; and down the wet streets
sail their mimic fleets, till the treacherous pool engulfs them in
its whirling and turbulent ocean.
6. In the country, on every side, where far and wide, like a
leopard's tawny and spotted hide, stretches the plain, to the
dry grass and the dryer grain how welcome is the rain!
7. In the furrowed land the toilsome and patient oxen stand ;
lifting the yoke-encumbered head, with their dilated nostrils
spread, they silently inhale the clover-scented gale, and the vapors
that arise from the well-watered and smoking soil.
8. Near at hand, from under the sheltering trees, the farmer
• In sky, and kind, there should be, according to Walker, a slight sound
of e or y after the k.
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121
cees his pastures, and his fields of grain, as they bend their tops
to the numberless beating drops of the incessant rain. He
counts it no sin that he sees therein only his own thrift and
gain. Longfellow.
XXIII.—THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.
1. Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly's ball and the Grasshopper's feast
The trumpeter Gad-fly has summoned the crew
And the revels are now only waiting for you.
2. On the smooth-shaven grass, by the side of a wood,
Beneath a broad oak, which for ages had stood,
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening's amusement together repair:
3. And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back;
And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
And all their relations, green, orange and blue.
4. And there came the Moth, in his plumage of down,
And the Hornet, in jacket' of yellow and brown,
Who with him'the Wasp, his companion, did bring:
But the^ promised that evening to lay by their sting.
5. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole,
And led to the feast his blind brother, the Mole;
And the snail, with his horns peeping out from his shell,
From a great distance came — the length of an ell.
6. A mushroom their table194— and on it was laid
A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made;
The viands were various, to each of their taste
And th Bee brought his honey to sweeten the feast.
7. There, close on his haunches, so solemn and wise,
The Frog from a corner looked up to the skies;
And the Squirrel,®1 well pleased such diversion to see,
Sat cracking his nuts overhead in a tree.
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122 THE STAN BARD FOURTH xtEADER.
8 Then out came a Spider, with fingers so fine,
To show his dexterity on the tight line;
From one branch to another his cobweb he slung,
Then as quick as an arrow he darted along.
9 But just in the middle, 0, shocking to tell!
From his rope in an instant poor Harlequin®1 fell,
Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread
Hung suspended in air at the end of a thread.
10 Then the Grasshopper came, with a jerk and a spring ;
Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing,
He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight,
Then chirped his own praises the rest of the night.
11. With steps quite majestic, the Snail did advance,
A.nd promised the gazers a minuet®1 |o dance;
But they all laughed so loud, that he pulled in his head,
And went in his own little chamber to bed.
12. Then, as evening gave way to the shadows of night,
Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his light;
Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you or for me.
Roscoe.
XXIV. — ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE TOTJTH.
St. Philip Njeri, as old readings say,
Met a young stranger in Rome's streets, one day;
And, being ever courteously®1 inclined
To give young folks73 a sober turn of mind,
He fell into discourse with him, and thus
■ The dialogue they held comes down to us •
St. Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome ?
Y. To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
St. And, when you are one, what do you intend ?
Y. To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
St. Suppose it so, what have you next in view ?
Y. That I may get to be a can'on,®1 too.
the standard fourth reader.
12?
St Well, and how then ?
Y. Why, then, for aught I know,
£ may be made a bishop.
St. Be it so —
What then ?
Y. Why, cardinal's a high degree —
And yet my lot it possibly may be.
St. Suppose it was, -— what then ?
Y. Why, who can say
But I've a chance of being pope, one day ?
St. Well, having worn the mitre11 and red hat
And triple crown, what follows after that?
Y. Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
When I've enjoyed a dignity so high,
As long as God shall please; then1891 must die.
St. What! must you die ? fond youth! and at the best
But wish, and hope, and may be all the rest ?
Take my advice — whatever may betide,
For that which must be, first141 of all provide;
Then think of that which may be; — and, indeed,
When well prepared, who knows what may succeed?
Who knows but you may then be, as you hope,
Priest, can'on, bishop, cardinal and pope ?
Dr. Byrom.
XXV.— ENGLAND UNDER CANUTE TfiE DANE.
1. Canute began to reign in England32 in the year one thou¬
sand and seventeen, and reigned eighteen years. He was a
merciless king at first.141 After he had clasped the hands of the
Saxon chiefs, in token of the sincerity with which he swore to
be jusi. and good to them, in return for their acknowledging him,
he denounced and slew many of them, as well as many relations
of the late king. " He who brings me the head of one of my
enemies," he used to say " shall be dearer to me than a brother.
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And he was so severe in hunting down his enemies, that he must
have got together a pretty large family of these dear brothers.
2. He was strongly inclined to kill Edmund and Edward, twc
children, sons of Edmund, surnamed®1 Ironside : but, being afraid
to do so in England, he sent them over to the King of Sweden,
with a request that the king would be so good as to " dispose of
them." If the King of Sweden had been like many, many other
men of that day, he would have had their innocent throats sut;
but he was a kind man, and brought them up tenderly.
3. Normandy ran much in Ca'nute's mind. In Normandy
were the two children of the late king — Edward and Alfred by
name; and their uncle, the Duke, might one day claim the
crown for them. But the Duke showed so little inclination to
do so now, that he proposed to Canute to marry his sister, the
widow of King Eth'elred; and she, being but a showy flower, and
caring for nothing143 so much as becoming a queen again, left her
children and was wedded to him.
4. Successful and triumphant, assisted by the valor of the
English in his foreign wars, and with little strife to trouble him
at home, Canute had a prosperous. reign, and made many im¬
provements. He was a poet and a musician. He grew sorry,
as he grew older, for the blood he had shed at first, and went to
Rome in a Pilgrim's dress, by way of washing it out. He gave
a great deal of money to foreigners on his journey j but he took
3 from the English before he started. On the whole, however,
he certainly became a far better man when he had no opposition
to contend with, and was as great a king as England had known
for some time.
5. The old writers of history relate how that Canute was one
day disgusted with his courtiers for their flattery, and how he
caused his chair to be set on the sea-shore, and feigned to com¬
mand the tide, as it came up, not to wet the edge of his robe, for
the land was his; how the tide came up, of course, without
regarding him; and how he then turned to his flatterers, and
. rebuked them, saying, what was the might of any earthly king
to the might of the Creator, who could say unto the sea, " Thus
far shalt thou go, and no further " ?
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
6. We may learn from this, I think, that a little sense ■will
go a long way in a king; and that courtiers are not easily cured
of flattery, nor kings of a liking for it. If the courtiers of"
Canute had not known, long before, that the king was fond of
flattery, they would have known better than to offer it in such
large doses. And if they had not known that he was vain of
this speech (anything but a wonderful speech, it seems to me, i"f
a good child had made it),172 they would not have been at such
great pains to repeat it. I fancy I see them all on the sea-shore
together; the king's chair sinking in the sand; the king in a
Ihighty good humor with his own wisdom; and the courtiers
pretending to be quite stunned by it!
7. It is not the sea alone that is bidden to go " thus far, and
no further." The great command goes forth to all the kings
upon the earth; and went to Canute in the year-one thousand
and thirty-five, and stretched him dead upon his bed. Beside
it stood his Norman wife. Perhaps, as the king looked his last
upon her, he, who had so often thought distrustfully of Nor¬
mandy long ago, thought once more of the two exiled princes
in their uncle's court, and of the little favor they could feel for
either Danes or Saxons, and of a rigjjng cloud in Normandy that
slowly moved toward England. Dickens.
XXYI. — NEW YEAR'S EVE.
1.
Little Gretchen, little Gretchen wanders up and down the street ;
The snow is on her yellow hair, the frost is at her feet.
The rows of long, dark houses without look cold and damp,
By the struggling of the moonbeam, by the flicker of the l^mp.
The clouds ride fast as horses, the wind is from the north,
But no one cares for Gretchen, and no one looketh forth.
Within those dark, damp houses are merry faces bright,
And happy hearts are watching out the old year's latest night.
2.
With the little box of matches she could not sell all day,
And the thin, thin tattered mantle the wind blows every way,
She clingeth to the railing, she shivers in the gloom,—
• There are parents sitting snugly by firelight in the room;
11*
126
THE STANDARD FOURTH Rb'ACEK.
And children 'with grave faces are whispering one another
Of presents for the new year, for father*or -for mother.
But no one talks to Gretchen, and no one hears her speak,
No breath of little whisperers comes warmly to her cheek.
3.
No little arms are round her: ah me ! that there should be,
With so much happiness on earth, so much of misery !
Sure they of many blessings should scatter blessings round,
As laden boughs in autumn fling their ripe fruits to the ground
And the best love man can offer to the God of love, be sure,
Is kindness to his little ones, and bounty to his poor.
Little Gretchen, little Gretchen goes coldly on her way ;
There's no one looketh out at her, there's no one bids her stay.
4.
Her home is cold and desolate ; no smile, no food, no fire,
But children clamorous for bread, aDd an impatient sire.
So she sits down in an angle where two great houses meet,
And she curleth up beneath her, for warmth, her little feet ;
And she looketh on the cold wall, and on the colder sky,
And wonders if the little stars are bright fires up on high.
She hears a clock strike slowly, up in a far church tower,
With such a sad and solemn tone, telling the midnight hour.
5.
And she remembered her of J:ales her mother used to tell,
And of the cradle-songs she sang, when summer's twilight fell ;
Of good men and of angels, and of the Holy Child,
Who was cradled in a manger, when winter was most wild ;
Who was poor, and cold, and hungry, and desolate and lone ;
And she thought the song had told he was ever with his own ;
And all the poor and hungry and forsaken ones are his,—
" How good of Him to look on me in such a place as this ! "
6.
Colder it grows and colder, but she does not feel it now,
For the pressure at her heart, and the weight upon her brow ;
But she struck one little match on the wall so cold and bare,
That she might look around her, and see if He were there.
The single match has kindled, and by the light it threw
It seemed to little Gretchen the wall was rent in two ;
And she could see folks seated at a table richly spread,
With heaps of goodly viands, red wine and pleasant bread.
7.
She could smell the fragrant savor, she could hear what they did
Then all was darkness once again, the match had burned away.
THJE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
127
She struck another hastily, and now she seemed to see
Within the same warm chamber a glorious Christmas tree.
The branches were all laden with things that children prize,
Bright gifts for boy and maiden — she saw them with her eyes.
And she almost seemed to touch them, and to join the welcome shout,
When darkness fell around her, for the little match was out.
8.
Another, yet another, she has tried — they will not light;
Till all her little store she took, and struck with all her might:
And the whole miserable place was lighted with the glare,
And she dreamed there stood a little child before her in the air..
There were blood-drops on his forehead, a spear-wound in his Bide,
And cruel nail-prints in his feet, and in his hands spread wide.
And he looked upon her gently, and she felt that he had known
Pain, hunger, cold, and sorrow — ay, equal to her own.
•9.
And he pointed to the laden board and to the Christmas tree,
Then up to the cold sky, and said, " Will Gretchen come with me?"
The poor child felt her pulses fail, she felt her eyeballs swim,
And a ringing sound was in her ears, like her dead mother's hymn.:
And she folded both her thin white hands, and turned from that bright board.
And from the golden gifts, and said, " With thee, with thee, 0 Lord! "
The chilly winter morning breaks up in the dull skies
On the City wrapt in vapor, on the spot where Gretchen lies.
. 10.
In her scant and tattered garment, with her back against the wall,
She sitteth cold and rigid, she answers to no call.
They have lifted her up fearfully, they shuddered as they said,
" It was a bitter, bitter night ! the child is frozen dead."
The angels sang their greeting for one more redeemed from sin ;
Men said, " It was a bitter night; would no one let her in ? "
And they shivered as they spoke of her, and sighed. They could not see
;~Iow much of happiness there was after that misery.
Anon.*
XXVII --DEVOTIONAL THOUGHTS ON SPRING.
1. j?.ra:se the Lord, 0 my soul! Adore his holy name! For
*'ho is mightier than he, the Creator of the universe, who spread-
* A prose narrative by Andersen, the Danish poet, has furnished the
groundwork for this poem.
128
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
eth before us the feasts of the earth, and foundeth the glories of
the heavens ? Who is more inexhaustible* in goodness and com¬
passion than he, who giveth alike the happiness of the worm
and the hallelujah73 of rejoicing angels ?.
2. Praise the Lord, 0 my soul! For he is thy God, whoy
through the riches of the universe, foreshadoweth the jdys of
heaven; who giveth to the blade of grass the refreshing dew,137
and to the eye of man the tears of joy ; he is thy God and ihy
Father.
3. Praise the Lord, O my soul! For he strewed52 upon thee
the blossoms of spring, as, full of child-like innocence, thou didst
smile in thy mother's arms; and this day he surrounds thee with
his wonders, that thou mayest adore him with raptwrous love.
4. Praise the Lord, 0 my Soul !*— People and nations, princes
and principalities, change; the earth alters its form, and the
countless stars glitter and vanish : he only is immutably great,
for he liveth in majesty from everlasting to everlasting. His
compassion knoweth no change, and his love endwreth forever.
5. Ye fountains,48 shaded by blossoming scrubs; ye willow-
bordered108 brooks,146 that murmur along your pebbly pa#As; ye
rivers, whose mighty billows bear ships, laden with the riches of
the world, —join louder in the anthems to the Lord !
6. Y e woods, on green hills and mountains; ye leafy branches,
ye shrubs, laden134 with the blossoms of spring, — wave and
rustle, and reecho to your Maker the grateful warbling of birds!
7. From the gladsome valleys rise the voices of the flocks
that graze on pastures blooming with flowers in all the colors of
the rainbow. In the wilderness the joyful lion roars.
8 Praise the Lord, 0 my soul, and let all creation praise his
holy name ! Ye nations within the circle of the earth, fall upon
your knees in adoration of your Creator, and render thanks for
his inexhaustible goodness! The dead and living, man and beast,
and the spirits of brighter worlds — the whole immensity of the
universe — all stars,.all suns — proclaim: — Holy; holy is the
Lord our God, whose love endureth forever !
9. For who can behold the works of God without emotion 7
* The h in this word should be sounded. — See T 73,
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
129
Who the majesty of creation without raptwre? The world is as
a sunbeam out of Eden ; a fleeting dream of the future paradise
of bliss ! Where is the fearful skeptic,60 contending against His
reason? Let him step forth and look on nature, clad in her
festive livery, who, an eternal bride, joyous and beautiful, points
him to God. Let him step forth, and a fresh and balmy fra¬
grance from millions of blossoms will greet him and declare
that " Here there is no death; all is life, and life is from God.''
10. Doubter! if now the beauty of smiling nature hath
warmed thy heart; if now the convincing power of reality hath
phrified thy dreams; if thy reason no longer doubts what it is
too im'potent to fathom ; if thy soul longs to depend, in child¬
like innocence, upon thy Heavenly Father, — then sink down
and bury thy blushing face aend gushing tears in the flowers of
the meadow; and thy sigh — perhaps the first thou hast for
many years offered up to thy God — will be no discordant sound
in the glad anthem of nature. From the German
XXVIII. — AN INCIDENT AT SEA.
1. A vessel33 that sailed between Whitehaven, in England,
and the island of Jamaica, being on her homeward voyage,
carried, among other passengers, a female who was the mother
of an infant only a few weeks old. One beautiful afternoon,
the captain46 perceived a distant sail, and after he had gratified
his curiosity, he politely offered his spy-glass to his passenger,
that she might obtain a clear view of the object.
2. Having the baby in her arms, she wrapped the shawl about
It, and placed it on a sofa126 upon which she had been sitting.
Scarcely had she qjDplied her eye to the glass, when the helms¬
man exclaimed, " See ! see what the monkey has done!" The
reader may judge of the mother's feelings, when, on turning
round, she beheld the mis'chievous animal in the act of trans¬
porting her beloved and helpless child "apparently to the very
top of the mast!
3. The monkey was a large one, and so strong and active
that whi\Q it grasped the infant firmly with one arm, it climbed
130
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the sArouds nimbly by the other, totally unembarrassed by the
weight of its burden. One look was sufficient for the terrified
mother, and that look had well-nigh been her last; and, had it
not been for tlje assistance of those around her, she would have
fallen prostrate on the deck, where she was soon afterwards
stretched, apparently lifeless.
4. The sailors could climb almost as well as the monkey; but
the latter watched their motions narrowly; and as it ascended
higher up the mast the moment they attempted to put a foot on
the sArouds, the captain became afraid that it would drop the
child, and endeavor to escape by leaping from one mast to
another.
5. In the mean time the infant was hoard to cry; and though
many thought it was suffering pain, their fears on this point
were" speedily dissipated, when they observed the monkey imi¬
tating exactly the motions of a nurse, by dandling, soothing and
caressing, its charge, and even endeavoring to hush it to sleep.
6. From the deck the lady was conveyed to the cabin, and
gradually restored to her senses. In the mean time, the captain,
having ordered every man to conceal himself below, quietly
took his own station on the cabin-stairs, where he could see all
that passed without being seen.
7. This plan happily succeeded: the monkey, on perceiving
that the coast was elear, cautiously descended from his lofty
perch, and replaced the infant on the sofa, cold, fretful, and
perhaps frightened, but in every other respect as free from harm
as when he took it up. The humane captain had now a most
grateful task to perform: the babe was ^restored to its mother's
arms, amidst tears, and thanks, and blessings. Anon.
XXIX. — SELECT SENTENCES.
1. It is a terrible thought to remember that nothing" can be
forgotten. I have somewhere read that not an oath is uttered
that does not vibrate through all time, in the wide-spreading
current of sounds — not a prayer lisped that its record is not
also to be found stamped on the laws of nature, by the indelible
seal of the Almighty's will.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
131
2. The fountain of content must spring up in the mind; and
he who has so little knowledge of human nature as to seek hap-
piness by changing anything but his own disposition, will waste
his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he pur¬
poses to remove.
3. A man's reputation has been very aptly compared to a
sheet of white paper, which if it be once blotted can hardly
ever be made to look as spotless as before. Apologists of youth¬
ful immoralities should think of this.
4. If a man would keep both his integrity and independence
free from temptation, let him keep out of debt. Dr. Franklin
says, " It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright."
5. An old miser kept a tame jackdaw, that used to steal
pieces of money, and hide them in a hole; which the cat observ¬
ing, asked why he should hoard up those round shining things,
that he could make no use of. " Why," said the jackdaw, " my
master has a whole chest full, and makes no more use of them
than I."
6. He that never changed any of his opinions never cor¬
rected any of his mistakes; and he who was never wise enough
to find out any mistakes in himself will not be charitable
'inough to excuse what he reckons mistakes in others.
7. The expansion of mind which, rises in us at the sight of
the starry sky, the cloud-capt mountain,46 the boundless ocean,
qeems intended to direct our thoughts,-by an impressive though
indefinite feeling, to the Infinite Author of all.
8. Good sense and Christian principle must be in a very lan¬
guid state, when a disrelish or weariness of life is the predomi¬
nant feeling.
9. A profligate young fellow seeing an aged hermit go barefoot
by him, —" Father " says he, " you are in a very miserable
condition, if there is not another world." — •' True, son," said the
hermit, " but what is thy condition if there be ? "
10. Idle and indecent' applications of sentences taken from
the Scriptures,*1 is a mode of merriment which a good man
dreads for its profaneness, and a witty man disdains for its easi¬
ness and vulgarity.
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER-
11. "Supineness and effeminacy," says Dr. Rush, "have
ruined more constitutions than were ever destroyed by excessive
labors. Moderate exercise and toil, so far from prejudicing,
strengthens and consolidates the body."
12. Avarice begets more vices than Priam"1 did children; and
like Priam, survives them all. It starves its keeper, to surfeit50
those who wish him dead; and makes him submit to more mor¬
tifications to lose heaven33 than the martyr undergoes to gain it.
13. The conclusion at which I have arrived is, that without
temperance there is no health; without virtue, no order; with
out religion, no happiness; and that the sum of our duties is t®
live wisely, soberly and righteously.
XXX. — THE TWO RETURNED TOURISTS.
The following little poem, translated from the German of Grun, by Mr. C.
T. Brooks, affords an opportunity for an exhibition of the contrast between
a tame, inanimate mode of delivery and a spirited and expressive one. The
last two of the lines between quotation-marks in the third stanza should be
read in an apathetic, unimpassioned tone, as if the reader cared nothing
for the objects he was mentioning. The same lines in the fourth stanza
should be read with animation and enthusiasm, as if the reader were trans¬
ported with admiration and love of the beauties of Dature.
1. Two travellers through the gateway went
To the glorious Alpine®1 world's ascent;
The one, he followed Fashion's behest,
The other felt the glow in his breast.
2. And when the two came home again,
Their kin all clustered round the men:
'T was a buzz of questions on every side.
" And what have you seen ? do tell! " they cried
3. The one with yawning made reply :
" What have we seen ? Not much have I!
Trees, meadows, mountains, groves and streams,
Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams."
4. The other, smiling, said the same;
But, with face transfigured and eye of flame;
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133
" Trees, meadows, mountains, groves and streams
Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams ! "
XXXI.—BOUNTIFUL DESIGN OF CREATION.
1. It is a happy world, after all. The air, the earth, the water
teem with delighted existence. In a spring noon or summer
evening, on whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of 'happy
beings crowd upon my view. " The insect youth are on the
wing." Swarms of new-born flies are trying their pinions in
the air. Their sportive motions, their wanton mazes, their
gratuitous activity, their continual change of place without use
or purpose, testify their joy, and the exultation which they feel
in their lately-discovered faculties.
2. A bee amongst the flowers in spring is one of the most
cheerful objects that can be looked upon. Its life appears to be
all enjoyment, so busy and so pleased; yet it is only a specimen
of insect life, with which, by reason of the animal being half-
domesticated, we happen to be better acquainted than we are
with that of others.
3. The whole winged insect tribe, it is probable, are equally
intent upon their proper enjoyments; and under every variety
of constitution gratified, and perhaps equally gratified, by the
offices which the Author of their nature has assigned to them.
4: Suppose, then, what I have no doubt of, each individual
of the vast number to be in a state of positive enjoyment; what
a sum, collectively, of gratification and pleasure, have we here
before our view! Paley.
XXXII. — CONSIDER BOTH SIDES.
1. In the days of knight-errantry and paganism,®1 one of the
old British princes set up a statue to the Goddess of Victory, in
a point where four roads met together. In her right hand she
held a spear, and her left hand rested upon a shield; the outside
of this shield was of gold, and the inside of silver. On the
Corn or was inscribed, in the old British language., " To the god-
12
134
THE STANDABP FOURTH READER.
less ever favorable; " and on the other, "For four victories
obtained successively over the Picts, and other inhabitants of the
northern islands."
2. It happened, one day, that two knights, completely armed,
one in black armor, the other in white, arrived from opposite
parts of the country at this statue, just about the same time;
and, as neither of them had seen it before, they stopped to read
the inscription, and observe the excellence of its workmanship.
3. After contemplating it for some time, "This golden
shield," says the black knight " Golden shield ! " cried the
white knight, who was as strictly observing the opposite side,
" why, if I have my eyes, it is silver." — "I know nothing of
your eyes," replied the black knight; " but, if ever I saw a
golden shield in my life, this is one."
4. "Yes," returned the white knight, smiling, "it is very
probable, indeed, that they should expose a shield of gold in so
public a place as this ! For my part, I wonder even a silver one
is not too strong a temptation for the devotion of some people who
pass this way; and it appears, by the date, that this has been
here above three-years."
5. The black knight could not bear the smile with which this
was delivered, and grew so warm in the dispute, that it soon
ended in a challenge; they both, therefore, turned their horses
and rode back so far as to have sufficient space for their career;
then, fixing their spears in their rests, they flew at each other
with the greatest fury and impetuosity. Their shock was so
rude, and the blow on each side so effectual, that they both fell
to the ground much wounded®1 and bruised, and lay there for
some time, as in a trance.-29
6. A good Druid,®1 who was travelling that way, found them
in this condition. The Druids were the physicians of those
times, as well as the priests. He had a sovereign balsam about
him, which he had composed himself; for he was very skilful iu
all the plants that grew in the fields or in the forests: he
stanched their blood, applied his balsam to their wounds, and
brought them, as it were, from death to life again.
7 As soon as they were sufficiently recovered, he began to
the standard fourth reader.
135
inquire into the occasion of their quarrel. " Why, this man,
cried the black knight, " will have it that yonder shield is silver.'
— " And he will have it," replied the white knight, " that it is
gold." And then they told him all the particulars of the affair
8. " Ah ! " said the Druid, with a sigh, " you are both of you,
my brethren, in the right, and both of you in the wrong. Had
either of you given himself time to look at the opposite side
of the shield, as well as that which first presented itself to
view, all this passion and bloodshed might have been avoided;
however, there is a very good lesson to be learned from the evils
that have befallen you on this occasion. Permit me, therefore,
to entreat you never to enter into any dispute, for the future,
till you have carefully considered both sides of the question."
Beaumont
XXXIII. —HOME.
1. I know of no passage in classical™ literature more beautiful
or affecting than that where Xen'ophon,83 in his Anab'asis,™
describes the effect produced on the remnant of the ten thousand
Greeks, when, after passing through dangers without number,
they at length ascended a sacred mountain, and from its peaked
summit caught a sight of the sea.
2. Clashing their bucklers, with a hymn of joy they rushed
«umultuQusly for ward. Some wept with the fulness of their
delirious pleasure, others laughed, and more fell on their knees
and blessed that broad ocean. Across its blub waters, little
floating sea-birds, the memorials of their happy homes, came and
fanned their weary souls.
3. All the perils they had encountered, all the companions
ihey had lost, all the miseries they had endured, were in an
instant forgotten, and naught was with them but the gentle
phantoms of past and future joys.
4. One was again scouring across the hoof-trodden plains of
Thes'saly; another reclined beneath the flower-crowned rocks of
Arca'dia, and gazed into the dreamy eyes of her whose form,
amid battle and bivouac,™ was ever •vrith him ; a third recalled
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
that proud day when, before the streaming eyes of his overjoyed
parents,129 and amid the acclamation of all Greece, he bore off,
from amid competitors, the laurel-wreath of the Olympian®
victor.
5. 0, home ! magical, all-powerful home ! how strong must
have been thy influence, when thy faintest memory could cause
these bronzed®1 heroes of a thousand fights to weep like tearful
women! With the cooling freshness of a desert fountain, with
the sweet fragrance of a flower found in winter, you came across
the great waters to those wandering men, and benea^A the
peaceful shadow of your wings their souls found rest!
6. It is related of a Greek islander in exile, that, being taken
to the yale of Tem-pe, and called upon to admire its beauty, he
only replied, " The sea — where is it ? " Upon this incident
Mrs. Hemans has penned the following appropriate lines:
" Where is the sea ? I languish here, — where is my own blue aea,
With all fts barks in fleet career, and flags and breezes free ?
I miss that voice of waves which first awoke my childish glee ;
The measured chime, the thundering burst,—where is my own blue seat
0 ! rich your myrtle's breath may rise ; soft, soft your winds may be ;
Yet my sick heart within me dies, — where is my own blue sea?
1 hear the shepherd's mountain flute, I hear the whispering tree ;
The echoes of my soul are mute, — where is my own blue sea? "
XXXIV.—A HEBREW LEGEND.®1
1. ".You teach," said the Emperor Trajan,® to a famous rab¬
bi,® " that yoifr God is everywhere, and boast that he resides
among your nation. I should like to see him."
2. " God's presence is indeed everywhere," the rabbi replied;
" but he cannot be seen, for no mortal eye can look upon his
Bplendor."
3. The emperor had the obstinacy of power, and persisted in
his demand. " Well," answered the rabbi, "suppose we begin
by endeavoring to gaze at one of his ambassadors."
4. Trajan assented; and the rabbi, leading him into the open
air, for it was noon of the day, bade him raise his eyes to the
sun, then shining down upon the world in his meridian of glory,
the standard fourth reader.
127
The emperor made the attempt, but relinquished it. " I can¬
not," he said " the light dazzles me."
5. " If, then," rejoined the triumphant rabbi, " thou art
unable to endure the light of one of his creatures, how canst
thou expect to behold the unclouded glory of the Creator ? "
XXXV. — THE PLACE TO DIE.
1. How little recks13 it where men die, when once the moment's past
In which the dim and glazing eye has looked on earth its last;
Whether beneath the sculptured urn the coffined form shall rest,
Or, in its nakedness, return back to its mother's breast!
2. Death is a common friend or foe, as different men may hold.
And at its summons each must go, the timid and the bold ;
But when the spirit, free and warm, deserts it, as it must,
What matter where the lifeless form dissolves again to dust ?
3. 'T were sweet, indeed, to close our eyes with those we cherish near,
And, wafted upwards by their sighs, soar to some calmer sphere .
But whether on the scaffold high, or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can die is where he dies for man !
Dublin Nation.
XXXVI. — SHORT POETICAL EXTRACTS.
1. Love of Country. — Scott.
Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
" This is my own, my native land !"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned.
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand ?
If such there be, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell:
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
1^*
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To the vile dust, from whence he sprung
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
2. The Ancient Heroes of Greece. — Byron,
They fell devoted, but undying ;
The very gale their names seemed sighing :
The waters murmured of their name;
The woods were peopled with their fame;
The silent pillar, lone and gray,
Claimed kindred with their sacred clay;
Their spirits wrapt the dusky mountain,
Their memory sparkled o'er the fountain ,* —
The meanest rill, the mightiest river,
Rolled mingling with their fame forever.
Despite of every yoke she bears,
That land is glory's still and theirs.'
'T is still a watchword to the earth : —
When man would do a deed of worth,
He points to Greece, and turns to tread,
So sanctioned, on the tyrant's head:
He looks to her, and rushes on
Where life is lost, or freedom won.
8. Diversities of Judgment. — Pope.
T is with our judgments as our watches, — none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In poets as true genius is but rare,
True taste as seldom is the critic's share;
Beth must alike from Heaven derive their light, —»
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Authors are partial to their wit, 't is true;
But are not critics to their judgment, too ?
. 4. Inward Grief. — Shakspeare.
Seems,184 madam ! —nay, it is : I know not seems,
'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
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135
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspirution" of forced breath;
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'havior106 of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly ; these indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
, But I have that within which passeth show,
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
5. The Virtuous Lady in Peril. — Milton.
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience. —
0 welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings,
And thou, unblemished form of Chastity!
1 see ye visibly, and now believe
That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistering" guardian, if need were,
To keep my life and honor unassailed.
6. Wolsey's Advice to Cromwell. — Shakspeare.,
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition !
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee .
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's and truth's: then, if thou fall'st, 0 Cromwell
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
7 Against Indifference to Nature's Charms. — Beattie.
O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which nature to her votary yields!
140
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The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
The pomp of groves, the garniture of fields
All that the genial ray of morning gilds.
And all that echoes to the song of even,
All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven, —
0, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven
8. Omnipresence op the Deity. — Thomson.
Should fate command me to the furthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian11 mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles; 't is naught to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void w *ote as in the city full;
Anu where He vital breathes there must be joy.
When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey : there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ;
From seeming evil, still educing®1 good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in him, in light ineffable,
Come then, expressive Silence, muse hie praise.
XXXVII. — APPEAL TO THE MOTHER COUNTRY.
PROM THE. ADDRESS OF THE TWELVE UNITED COLONIES, JULY 8, 1775,
BY THEIR DELEGATES IN CONGRESS, TO THE INHABITANTS OF GREAT
BRITAIN.
1. Friends, countrymen, and brethren ! The once populous,
flourishing and commercial town of Boston, is now garrisoned by
an army, sent not to protect, but to enslave, its inhabitants. The
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141
civil government is overturned, and a military despotism erected
upon its ruins. Without law, without right, powers are assumed
unknown to the constitution.
2. To what are we to attribute this treatment ? " If to any
secret principle of the constitution, let it he mentioned! Let us
learn that the government we have long revered is not without
its defects; and that while it gives freedom to a part, it necessa¬
rily enslaves the rest of the empire. If such a principle exists,
why, for ages, has it ceased to operate ? Why at this time is it
called into action ?
3. Can no reason be assigned for this conduct? Or must it
be resolved into the wanton exercise of arbitrary power ? And
shall the descendants of Britons tamely submit to this? No,,
sirs! While we revere the memory of our gallant and virtuous
ancestors, we never will, we never can,189 surrender those glo¬
rious privileges, for which they fought, bled, and conquered.
4. Admit that your fleets can destroy our towns and ravage
our sea-coasts; those are inconsiderable objects — things of no
moment to men whose bosoms glow with the ardor of liberty.
We can retire beyond the reach of your navy, and, without any
sensible diminution of the luxuries of life, enjoy a luxury which
from that moment you184, will want — the luxury of being free !
5. We know the force of your arms; and, were it called forth
in the cause of justice and your country, we might dread the
exertion; but will Britons fight under the banners of tyranny ?
Will they counteract the labors, and disgrace the victories, of
their ancestors ? Will they forge chains for their posterity ?
If they descend to this unworthy task, will their swords®1 retain
their edge —their arms their accustomed vigor?
6. No! Britons can never become the instruments of oppres¬
sion, till they lose the spirit of freedom, by which alone they
are invincible! Since, then, your liberties must be the price of
your victories, your ruin of your defeat, what blind fatality
can urge you to a pursuit destructive of all that Britons hold
dear?
7. If you have no regard for the constitution that has for
agos subsisted between us — if you have forgot the wounds" we
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have received, fighting by your side for the extension of the em¬
pire,— if our commerce is an object below your considera¬
tion,— if justice and humanity, have lost their influence on your
hearts, — still motives are not wanting to excite your indignation
at the measures now pursued: your wealth, your honor, your
liberty are at stake !
XXXVIII.—POOR RICHARD'S SAYINGS.
1. If pride leads the van, beggary brings up the rear. He
that can travel well afoot, keeps a good horse. Mary's mouth
costs her nothing, for she never opens it but at others' expense.
Some men grow mad by studying much192 to knowbut who
grows mad by studying good to grow ?
2. Take this remark from Richard poor and lame, — What-
e'er 's19<i begun in anger ends in shame. The worst wheel of the
cart makes the most no?'se. lie that falls in love with himself,
will have no rivals. Against diseases, know the strongest fence
is the defensive virtue, abstinence. If you would have a faithful
servant, and one that you like, serve yourself.
8. A mob's a monster f with bsads enough, but no brains.
There is nothing humbler®1 than ambition when it is about to
climb. The discontented man finds no easy chair. When Pros¬
perity was well mounted, she let go the bridle, and soon came
tumbling out of the saddle. A little neglect may breed great
mischief; for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a
shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was lost.
4. A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun
shines. Plough®1 deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall have
corn to sell and to keep. Old boys have playthings as well as
young ones; the difference is only in the price. If you would
eep your secret from an enemy, tell it not to a friend.
5. One to-day is worth two to-morrows. What maintains one
vice, would bring up two children. ^It is foolish to lay out
money in a purchase of repentance. If you would know the
value of money, go and try to borrow some; for ho that goes a
borrowing, goes a sorrowing. Pride breakfasted with plenty
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143
dined with poverty, and supped with contempt. Fly pleasures,
and they will follow you.
6. Creditors have better memories than debtors; creditors
aro a superstitious sect, — great observers of set days and times.
Sloth makes all things difficult; industry, all easy. But, after
all, do not depend too much upon you£ own industry, and fru¬
gality, and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all
be blasted without the blessing of Heaven.
Dr. Franklin.
XXXIX. — FALSE DEFERENCE TO WEALTH.
1. I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever,
Witty and wise: — he paid a man a visit,
And no one noticed him, and no one ever
Gave him a welcome. " Strange! " cried I; " whence is it 1"
He walked on this side, then on that,
He tried to introduce a social chat;
Now here, now there, in vain he tried ;
Some formally and freezingly replied,
And some
Said, by their silence, " Better stay at home."
2. A rich man burst the door,
As Croesus rich, I'm sure !
He could not pride himself upon' his wit;
And as for wisdom, he had none of it;
He had what some think better,—he had wealth.
What a confusion! — all stand up erect;
These crowd around to ask him of his health;
These bow in eager duty and respect;
And these arrange a sofa or a'chair,
And these conduct him there.
" Allow me, sir, the honor! " — then a bow
Down to the earth. Is't possible to show
Meet gratitude for such kind condescension ?
S The poor man hung his head,
And to himself he said,
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" This is, indeed, beyond my comprehension!"
Then looking round,
One friendly face he found,
And said, " Pray tell me, why is wealth preferred
To wisdom ? " — " That's a silly question, friend ! "
Replied the other ^ " Have you never heard
A man may lend his store
Of gold or silver ore,
Rut wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ? "
Khemnitzer, translated by Bowring
XL. — TO THE RAINBOW.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky when storms begin to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy to teach me what thou art.
Still seem as to my childhood's sight, a midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight betwixt the earth and heaven.
Can all that optics"1 teach unfold thy form to please me so
As when I dreamt of gems and gold hid in thy radiant bow?
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, but words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams was woven in the sky.
When o'er the green, undeluged earth, heaven's covenant thou didst shins
How came the world's gray fathers forth, to watch thy sacred sign !
And when its yellow lustre smiled o'er mountains vet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child to bless the bow of God.
Methinks, thy jubilee to keep, the first-made anthem rang,
On earth delivered from the deep, and the first poet sang.
Nor ever shall the Muse's"' eye unraptured greet thy beam ;
Iheme of pri-meval prophecy, ber still the poet's theme !
The earth to thee her incense yields, the lark thy welcome sings,
When, glittering in the freshened fields, the snowy mushroom springs.
How glorious is thy girdle cast o'er mountain, tower and town.
Or mirrored in the ocean vast a thousand fathoms down !
As fresh in yon horizon dark, as young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark first sported in thy beam ;
For, faithful to its sacred page, heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age, that first spoke peace to man.
Campbell.
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XLI. — QUEEN ISABELLA'S RESOLVE.
isabella of spain don gomez — columbus.
Isabella. And so, Don Gomez, it is your conclusion that we
ought to dismiss the proposition of this worthy Genoese.
Don Gomez. His scheme, your majesty, seems to me fancifhl
in the extreme; but I am a plain, matter-of-fact man, and do
not see visions and dream dreams, like some.
Isa. And yet ColumbusEI has given us cogent®1 reasons for
believing that it is practicable to reach the eastern coast of
India * by sailing in a westerly direction.
Don G. Admitting that his theory®1 is correct,—namely, that
the earth is a sphere,!—how would it be possible for him to
return, if he once descended that sphere in the direction he
proposes ? Would not the coming back be all up hill ? Could
a ship accomplish it with even the most favorable wind ?
Columbus. Will your majesty allow me to suggest that if the
earth is a sphere, the same laws of adhesion®1 and motion must
operate at every point on its surface; and the objection of Don
Gomez would be quite as valid against our being able to return
from crossing the Strait of Gibraltar.
Don G. This gentleman, then, would have us believe the
monstrous absurdity that there are people on the earth who, are
our antip'o-des j87 who walk with their heads down, like flies on
the ceiling.
Col. But, your majesty, if there is a law of attraction which
makes matter gravitate to the earth, and prevents its flying off
mto space, may not this law operate at every point on the round
earth's surface ?
Isa. Truly, it so seems to me; and I perceive nothing absurd
in the notion that this earth is a globe floating or revolving in
space.
Don G. May it please your majesty, the ladies are privi¬
leged to give credence to many- wild tales which we plain, mat-
* Columbus died in the erroneous belief that it was the eastern shore of
Asia, and not, a now continent, that he had discovered.
t Pru'ti c tb" Exorcises on the twenty-third elementary sound, page 40.
12
146
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ter-ofjfact men cannot admit. Every step I take confutes*1 this
visionary idea of the earth's rotundity.®1 "Would not the blood
run into my head, if I were standing upside down? Were 1
not fearful of offending your majesty, I would quote what the
great Lactantius says.
Isa. We are not vain of our science, Don Gomez; so let ja
have the quotation.
Don G. " Is there any one so foolish," he asks, "as to believe
that there are antip'o-des with their feet opposite to ours; that
there is a part of the world in which all things are topsy-turvy;
where the trees grow with their branches downward, and where
it rains, hails and snows, upwards ? "
Col. I have already answered this objection. If there are
people on the earth who are our antip'o-des, it should be remem
bered that we are theirs also.
Don G. Really, that is the very point wherein we matter-of-
fact men abide by the assurance of our own senses. We know
that we are not walking with our heads down.
Isa. To cut short the discussion, you think that the enterprise
which the Genoese proposes is one unworthy of our serious con¬
sideration; and that his theory of an unknown shore to the
westward of us is a fallacy.
Don G. As a plain, matter-of-fact man, I must confess that
1 so regard it. Has your majesty ever seen an ambassador
from this unknown coast?
Isa. Do you, Don Gomez, believe in the existence of a world
of spirits?
Don G. I accept what the church says.
Isa. But have you ever seen an ambassador from that un¬
known world?
Do?i G. Certainly not. By faith we look forward to it.
Isa. Even so by faith does the Genoese look forward far over
the misty ocean, to an undiscovered shore.
Col. Your majesty is right;- but let it be added that I have
reasons — 0 ! most potent and resistless reasons — for the faith
that is in me: the testimony of many navigators who have
picked up articles that must have drifted from this distant coast;
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the nature of things, admitting that the earth is round; the
reports current among the people of one of the northern nations,
that many years ago their mariners had sailed many leagues
westward till they reached a shore where the grape grew abun¬
dantly ; — these and other considerations have made it (next to
faith in my Saviour) the fixed persuasion of my mind that there
is a great discovery reserved for the man who will sail patiently
westward, trusting in God's good providence, and turning not
back till he has achieved his purpose.
Don G. Then truly we should never hear of him again,
Speculation! mere speculation, your majesty! When this gentle¬
man can bring forward some solid facts that will induce us plain,
matter-of-fact men to risk money in forwarding his enterprise, it
will then be time enough for royalty to give it heed. Why,
your majesty, the very boys in the street point at their foreheads
as he passes along.
Isa. And do you bring forward the frivolity of boys, jeering
at what they do not comprehend, as an argument why Isabella
should- not :give heed to this great and glorious scheme — ay,
sir, though it should fail, still great and glorious, — urged in
language so intelligent and convincing, by this grave and earnest
man, whom you think to undervalue by calling him an adven¬
turer? Know, Don Gomez, that the " absurdity," as you style
it, shall be tested, and that forthwith.®1
Don G. Your majesty- will excuse me if I remark that I
have from your royal consort himself the assurance that the
finan'ces are so exhausted®1 by the late wars, that he cannot con¬
sent to advance the necessary funds for fitting out an expedition
of the kind proposed.
Isa. Be mine, then, the privilege! I have jewels, by the
pledging of which I can raise the amount required; and I have
resolved that they shall be pledged to this enterprise, without
any more delay.
Col. Your majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. I
will return, your majesty, — be sure I will return, — and lay at
your feet such a jewel as never queen wore yet — an impciish-
able fame—a fame that shall couple with your memory the
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benedictioos of millions yet unborn in climes yet unknown ta
civilized man. There is an uplifting presentiment in my mind
— a conviction that your majesty will live to bless the hour you
came to this decision.
Don G. A presentiment ? A plain, matter-of-fact man, like
myself, must take leave of your majesty, if his practical common
sense is to be met and superseded by presentiments 1 An ounce
of fact, your majesty, is worth a ton of presentiment.
Isa. That depends altogether upon the source of the presenti¬
ment, Don Gomez. If it come from the Fountain of all truth,
shall it not be good ?
Don G. I humbly13 take my leave of your majesty.
XLII. — THE RETURN OF COLUMBUS.
don gomez his secretary.
Don Gomez. What! what is this you tell me? Columbus
returned ? A new world discovered ? Impossible !
Secretary. It is even so, sir. A courier arrived at the palace
but an hour since with the intelligence. Columbus was driven by
stress of weather to anchor in the Tagus.13 All Portugal is in
a ferment of enthusiasm, and all Spain will be equally excited
soon. The sensation is prodigious.
Don G. 0 ! it is a trick! It must be a trick!
Sec. But he has brought home the proofs of his visit: gold
and precious stones, strange plants and animals; and, above all,
specimens of a new race of men, copper-colored, with straight hair.
Don G. Still I say, a trick! He has been coasting along the
African shore, and there collected a few curiosities, which he is
passing off for proofs of his pretended discovery.
Sec. It is a little singular that all his men should be leagued
with him in keeping up so unprofitable a falsehood.
Don G. But't is against reason — against common sense —■
that such a discovery should be made.
Sec. King John of Portugal has received him with roya.
magnificence — has listened to his accounts, and is persuaded
that they are true.
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149
Don G. Wo shall see — we shall see. Look you, sir, a plain,
matter-of-fact man, such as I, is not to be taken in by any such
preposterous®1 story. This vaunted®1 discovery will turn out no
discovery at all.
Sec. The king and queen have given orders for preparations
on the most magnificent scale for the reception of Columbus.
Don G. What delusion! Her Majesty is so credulous! A
practical, common-sense man, like myself, can find no points of
sympathy in her nature.
Sec. The Indians on board the returned vessels are said to bo
unlike any known race of men.
Don G. "Very unreliable all that! I take the common-sense
view of the thing. I am a matter-of-fact man; and do you
remember what I say,— it will all turn out a trick! The crews
may have been deceived. Columbus may have steered a south¬
erly course, instead of a westerly. Anything is probable rather
than that a coast to the westward of us has been discovered.
Sec. I saw the courier, who told me he had conversed with
all the sailors; and they laughed at the suspicion that there could
be any mistake about the discovery, or that any other than a
westerly course had been steered.
Don G. Still I say a trick! An unknown coast reached by
steering west?—Impossible! The earth a globe, and men stand¬
ing with their heads down in space ? — Folly! An ignorant sailor
from Gen'oa®1 in the right, and all our learned doctors and philos¬
ophers in the wrong ? — Nonsense! I'm a matter-of-fact man, sir.
I will believe what I can see, and handle, and understand. But
as for believing in the antip'o-des — or that the earth is round —-
or that Columbus has discovered land to the west King the
bell, sir— call my carriage — I will go to the palace and under
ceive the king.
XLIII. — RECEPTION OE COLUMBUS.
1. Ferdinand and Isabella, having been informed of the
return and discoveries of their admiral, by the messenger whom
he had despatched from Lisbon, awaited him at Barcelona"1 with
13*
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THE STANDARD TOURTH READER.
honor and munificence worthy the greatness of his services. The
Spanish nobility came from all the provinces to meet him. He
made a triumphal entry as a prince of future kingdoms.
2. The Indians,11 brought over by the squadron as a living
proof of the existence of new races of men in these newly-dis¬
covered lands, marched at the head of the procession, their bod¬
ies painted with divers colors, and adorned with gold necklaces
and pearls. The animals and birds, the unknown plants, and
the precious stones collected on those shores, were exhib¬
ited®1 in golden basins, carried on the heads of Moorish or Negro
slaves.
3. The eager crowd pressed close upon them, and wondrous
tales were circulated around the officers and companions of Co¬
lumbus. The admiral himself, mounted on a richly-caparisoned®1
charger, presented by the king, next appeared, accompanied by
a numerous cavalcade of courtiers and gentlemen. All eyes were
directed toward the man inspired of Heaven, who first had dared
to lift the veil of Ocean. People sought in his. face for a visible
sign of his mission, and thought they could discern one.
4. The beauty of his features, the thoughtful majesty of his
countenance, the vigor of youth joined to the dignity of riper
age, the combination of thought with action, of strength with
experience, a thorough appreciation of his worth, combined with
piety toward God, and with gratitude toward his sovereigns, who
awarded him the honor which he brought them as a conqueror,
made Columbus then appear (as those relate who saw him enter
Barcelona) like a prophet, or a hero of Holy Writ or Grecian
Story.
5. " None could compare with him," they say; " all felt him
to be the greatest or the most fortunate of men." Ferdinand
and Isabella received him on their throtie, shaded from the sun
by a golden canopy. They rose up before him, as though he had
been an inspired messenger. They made him sit on a level with
themselves, and listened to the solemn and circumstantial account
ef his voyages.
6. At the end of his recital, which habitual eloquence had
solored with his exuberant imagination., and impregnated with
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151
fervid enthusiasm, the king and queen, moved even to tears, fell
on their knees and repeated the " TeEI De'um," a hymn of thanks¬
giving, for the greatest conquest that the Almighty had ever yet
vouchsafed to sovereigns.
7. Couriers were instantly despatched to carry the wondrous
nows and fame of Columbus to all the courts of Europe. The
obscurity with which he had until then been surrounded changed
to a brilliant renown, filling the earth with his name. His dis¬
covery became the subject of conversation for the world. This
was in the year 1493. Lamarline
XLIV. — THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRY-TREE.
1. Did you hear of the curate®1 who mounted his mare,
And merrily trotted along to the fair ?
Of creature more tractable none ever heard ;
In the height of her speed she would stop at a word,
And again with a word, when the curate said "Hey,"
She would put forth her mettle and gallop away.
2. As near to the gates of a city he rode,
While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed,
The good man discovered, with eyes of desire,
A mulberry-tree in a hedge of wild brier;
High up on a bough,194 might have tempted a brute,
Large, glossy and black, hung the beautiful fruit.
3 The curate was hungry, and thirsty to boot:
He shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for the fruit
With a word he arrested his courser's keen speed,
Then stood up erect on the back of his steed;
On the saddle he stood, while the creature kept still,
And he gathered the fruit till he'd taken his fill.
4. " Sure, never," he said, " was a creature so rare !
How docile, how true, is this excellent mare !
See, here now I stand," and he gazed all around,
" AS safe and as steady as if on the ground;
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Ygt how had it been, if some fellow this way
Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to say Hey!"
6. He stood with his head in the mulberry-tree,
And he spoke out aloud in the height of his glee;
At the sound of his " hey ! " the mare made a push,
And down went the priest in the wild brier-bush;
He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed,
" Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be said."
Anon.
XLV.— "ALL THE DAY IDLE."
1. Wherefore13 idle — when the harvest, beckoning,
Nods its ripe tassels to the brightening sky ?
Arise and labor ere the time of reckoning,
Ere the long shadows and the night draw nigh.
2. Wherefore idle ? — Swing the sickle"7 stoutly ! —
Bind thy rich sheaves exultingly and fast!
Nothing dismayed, do thy great task devoutly —
Patient and strong, and hopeful to the last!
3. Wherefore idle ? — Labor, not inaction,
Is the soul's birthright and its truest rest.
Up to thy work ! 't is Nature's fit exaction —
He who toils humblest,®1 bravest, toils the best.
4. Wherefore idle? — Not a leaf's light rustle
But chides thee in thy vain, inglorious rest; —
Be a strong actor in the great world's bustle, —
Not a weak minion, or a pampered guest!
XLVI. — THE PIONEERS OF KENTUCKY.
1 In his peaceful habitation on the banks of the Yadkin
river, in North Carolina. Daniel Boone, the illustrious hunter,
had heard Finley, a trader, so meinorable as the pioneer,®1
describe a tracf of land west of Virginia, as the richest in
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153
North America or in the world. In May, 1769, leaving his
Wife and offspring, having Finley as his pilot, and four others as
companions, the young man of about three-and-twenty wandered
forth through the wilderness of America, " in quest of the
country of Kentucky," known to the savages as the " dark and
bloody-ground," the "middle ground" between the subject of
the Five Nations and the Cherokees.
2 After a long and fatiguing journey through mountain ranges,
the party found themselves in June on the Red river, a tribu¬
tary of the Kentucky, and from the top of an eminence sur¬
veyed with delight the beautifzd plain that stretched to the
north-west. Here they built their shelter, and began to recon¬
noitre®1 the country and to hunt.
3. All the kinds of wild beasfa that were natural to America
— the stately elk, the timid "deer, the antlered stag, the wild-cat,
the bear, the panther and the wolf — crouched among the canes,
or roamed over the rich grasses, which, even beneath the thickest
shades, sprang luxuriantly out of the generous soil.
4. The buffaloes cropped fearlessly the herbage/2 or browsed
on the leaves of the reed, and were®1 more frequent than cattle
in the settlements of Carolina herdsmen. Sorqetimes there were
hundreds in a drove, and round the salt-licks®1 their numbers
were amazing.
5. The summer in which, for the first time, a party of white
men enjoyed the brilliancy of nature near, and in the valley of
the Elkhorn, passed away in the occupations of exploring parties
and the chase. But, one by one, Boone's companions dropped
off, till he was left alone with John Stewart. They jointly found
unceasing delight in the wonders of the forest, till, one evening,
near Kentucky river, they were taken prisoners by a band of
Indians, wanderers like themselves.
6. They escaped, and were joined by Boone's brother; so that
when Stewart was soon after killed by savages, the first victim
among the hecatombs®1 of white men slain by them in their des¬
perate battling for the lovely hunting-ground, Boone still had
his brother to share vfith him the dangers and the attractions of
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
the wilderness; the building and occupying the first cottage in
Kentucky. .
7. In the spring of 1770, that brother returned to the settle¬
ments for horses and supplies of ammunition, leaving the re«
nowned hunter " by himself, without bread, or salt, or sugar, or
even a horse or dog." " The idea of a beloved wife, anxious for
his safety, tinged his thoughts with sadness but otherwise, the
cheerful, meditative man, careless of wealth, knowing the use of
the rifle, not the plough,®1 of a strong, robust frame, in the vig¬
orous health of early manhood, ignorant of books, but versed in
the forest and forest life, ever fond of tracking the deer on foot
away from men, yet in his disposition humane, generous and
gentle, was happy in the uninterrupted succession of sibanK'
pleasures."
8. One calm summer's evening, as he climbed a commanding2'
ridge, and looked out upon the remote venerable mountains, and
the nearer ample plains, and caught a glimpse in the distance of
the Ohio, which bounded the land of his affections with majes¬
tic grandeur, his heart exulted in the region he had discovered.
"All things were still." Not a breeze so much as shook a leaf.
He kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on
the loin of a buck. He was no more alone than a free among
flowers, but com'muned familiarly with the whole universe of
life. Nature was his intimate; and as the roving woodsman
leaned confidingly on her bosom, she responded to his intelligence,
9. For him the rocks and the fountains, the leaf and the
blade of grass, had life; the cooling air, laden with the wild
perfume,88 came to him as a friend; the dewj morning wrapped
him in its embrace; the trees stood up gloriously round about
him, as so many myriads of companions. All forms wore the
character of desire or peril. But how could he be afraid ? Tri¬
umphing over danger, he knezz; no fear. The perpetual howling
of the wolves by night round his cottage, or his bivouac®1 in the
brake, was his diversion; and by day he had joy in surveying
the various species of animals that surrounded him. He loved
the solitude better than the towered city or the hum of business.
10 Near the end of July, 1770, his faithful brother cams
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155
back to meet him at the old camp. Shortly after, they proceeded
together to Cumberland river, giving names to the different
waters; and he then returned to his wife and children; fixed
in his purpose, at the risk of life and fortune, to bring them, as
soon as possible, to live in Kentucky, which he esteemed a second
paradise Bancroft
XLVII. — THE CONTRAST.
1. In the parlor, singing, playing,
Round me like a sunbeam straying,
All her life with joy o'erladen,
Is a radiant little maiden.
Constant love, her cares beguiling,
Shields her from sin's dread defiling; —
Sheltered safe from worldly rudeness,
Grows192 she in her native goodness.
Every morn brings fond caressing,
Every night brings earnest blessing;
So her heart gets sweeter, purer,
And her steps in virtue surer.
2. In the street, where storms are sighing
Is a child deserted, crying ; —
Poor lost lamb ! with plaintive bleating
All my sympathy entreating.
No home's holy loves enfold her,
No protecting arms uphold her :
And the voices that should guide her
Utter only tones that chide her.
O'er her spirit's waste and blindness
Falls no ray of saving kindness ; —
Wandering thus in earth's dark places,
Sin her tender soul embraces.
3. Then I know, that radiant maiden,
All whose life "with love is laden,
Only love saves from the danger
And the fate of this lost stranger!
Plummer
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the standard fourth reader.
XLVIII. — VOLNEY BEKNER : A TRUE NARRATIVE.
part i.
1. Volney Bekner was the son of a poor Irish sailor, and
was born about the year 1748. He was taught little of what
ought to be known by those destined to live in a city; but ag
soon as he could regulate his own movements, his father taught
him to struggle with the waves, or to allow himself to be borne
away by them, laughing at the storms of the air and the fury Df
the sea.
2. You should have seen the father of Volney with his son
then about three years of age, in the water; the father support¬
ing with one arm the little child, and the latter endeavoring to
imitate the movements of his father, and to turn and re-turn
upon the water, until he would be exhausted1* with fatigue.
3. Volney Bekner soon became an indefatigable1* swimmer,
for scarcely was he five years old, when he could follow the ves¬
sel33 on which he had been brought up, for the distance of two
leagues.13 ' Thus accustomed to make a sport of the dangers of
the sea, Volney Bekner became an important personage, espe¬
cially in stormy weather.
4. None of the crew could man the yards with such rapidity:
he was always the first to ascend the mast, always the most
prompt in gliding amongst the rigging; and, if his arms were not
the strongest in executing the evolutions, his example was so
encouraging that every one seemed to redouble his emulation,
not to be conquered by the intrepidity of so young a child.
5. Moreover, Volney Bekner was often able to render great
services by himself alone. •Sometimes but a slight effort is
required to free a rope which interferes w\th the working of the
sails: he sprang with greater rapidity than a man could have
done; he made his way through places where it would have been
impossible for a man to have passed; and, quick in seizing the
word of command,29 and skilful in executing it, with a turn of
the hand Volney had repaired the mischief.
6. Submissive to all the privations of his adventurous calling,
accustomed to look dangers in the face without emotion, tl:
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157
young sailor, who was a model33 of obedience and courage, early
understood that to be worthy of attaining a rank — that is to say,
to have the right of commanding in his turn — it was not suffi¬
cient that he should inspire "those under his command with
respect, and show himself the bravest amongst them; he must
also be the best informed, in order to deserve their confidence.
7. His father could only teach him to be a brave man; and on
this point the education of Yolney Bekner was perfect. His
captain undertook to make him a well-informed man, and by the
age of twelve he had attained the rank of head of the pilot-
apprentices. He had double rations®1 and double pay. " If,"
said the commander of the vessel, " this little fellow continues
to conduct himself with the same bravery and prudence, he will,
I am sure, attain a position far above mine."
8. Then turning towards Yolney Bekner, he added, "Is it not
true, my lad, that you love glory ? " — " Yes, captain," respect
fully replied the child. — "And do you know what glory is? "
added the captain. —" It is," replied the child, " faithfully to
serve one's country, and honorably to fulfil the duties of one's
station."
XLIX. — YOLNEY BEKNER : A TRUE NARRATIVE.
PART II.
1. During a voyage from Port-au-PrineeEI to France, it hap¬
pened that the daughter of a rich American, who was on board
with her father and governess, had made her escape from the
latter, who had fallen asleep. The little gir] imprudently went
upon the deck; she played, sl?e ran about; she got her feet en¬
tangled in the ropes, fell down and rose again, laughing at the
accident; she faced the billows, that covered her with spray, and
she laughed still louder than before.
2. The sailors told her to take care, but the child foresaw no
danger; she leaned over the deck, — the vessel heaved, the littlo
American lost her balance, uttered a shriek, and disappeared
beneaLi the waters. A sailor, perceiving her fall, immediately
b a pod into the sea, plunged, and, swimming for a few fathoms,
U
153
XHE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
caught the imprudent child, and reappeared with her upon the
surface of the waves. This sailor was the father of Volney
Bekner.
B. But, in the mean time, the wind had veered,EI and al¬
though but a few minutes had elapsed since the intrep'id swim¬
mer had plunged into the water to rescue the child from inevi¬
table death, the vessel was already at a considerable distance
from him. Nevertheless he still swam on; a few efforts more
and he would restore to the arms of a despairing father, who
awaited him on the deck, the child whom he had believed lost to
him forever.
4. All at once the sailor stopped, and ceased following the
direct line; he struggled with the waves to take a contrary
direction, and shouted — "Help! help! a shark!" It was,
indeed, one of those voracious and monstrous animals, that was
coming direct towards him, and threatened to devour both the
deliverer and the child whom he held firmly pressed against his
heart.
5. The whole of the crew were assembled upon deck; they fired
at the shark, but the monster was undismayed, and continued to
pursue his double prey, which he unceasingly har'assed. The
sailor increased his speed; but the shark swam still faster, and
every moment gained upon his victim.
6. All who beheld this sight were struck with horror; the
despair of the American, who thus saw his child about to perish
before his eyes, amounted to madness: he wanted to throw him¬
self into the water, but the crew restrained him ; he offered the
whole of his fortei^ to any one who would kill the monster : no
one dared to attempt so perilous an enterprise; but at the very
moment when the unfortunate father believed himself abandoned
both by God and man, young Volney Bekner was seen in the
distance, gliding benea^ the shark, and thrusting into his body,
up to the hilt, a large and sharp sabrew with which he was
armed.
7. No one had seen him plunge into the sea; and if he was
now rec'ognized, it was by the velocity of his course through the
water; for Volney Bekner was so skilful in this kind of exercise,
'rim standard fourth reader.
150
that he seemed more like a cavalier borne uj on a fiery steed,
than a man swimming.
8. The shark, -dreadfully wounded,EI ceased to pursue the
sailor, but only to direct his fury against a new victim ; he
allowed not a moment's respite to him who had struck him. By
a generous impulse, Yolney Bekner, fearing lest the monster
might hesitate between him and his father, directed his course
away from the vessel, whilst the sailor, who still protected the
little American, gained the ship.
9. However stout a swimmer our youthful pilot might be, it
was impossible for him to maintain a lengthened contest with
his terrible enemy. When he perceived that his father had
seized the rope thrown to him, he then thought of his own safety.
Darting from right to left in obliqueEI lines, in order to embar¬
rass the enemy, who was close upon him, he succeeded in reach¬
ing a rope. " He is saved! " was shouted with enthusiasm
from the deck.
10. The rope was hastily drawn in, and already had it reached
the height11 of fifteen feet above the surface of the water, when
the shark, who had just disappeared, and had only dived to take
a more vigorous spring, darted in pursuit of the heroic boy,
caught him by the middle of the body, and snapped it in two.
Thus died, in 1760, in the twelfth year of his age, a youth as
remarkable for his wonderful daring as for the gentler virtues
of obedience, filial devotion, and a martyr-like fortitude of
spirit. From, the French of Michel Masson.
L.—THE LESSON OF THE SEASONS.
1. A pleasant story is told by Mrs. BarbauldEI of a youth
who, rejoicing in the full play of healthful life and spirits,
returned from a day of skating on the frozen pond, to tell his
father that he wished it were always winter. The wise father
made no comment on the boyish wish, but simply got him to
write it down; and soon, amid the changes of the season, and
varying occupations, all recollection of his wish had been for¬
gotten
160
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER,
2. The spring came in with its milder breezes; the leaves
began to appear, the early flowers to bloom in the garden; the
birds to build their nests, and the groves to thrill with the mel
ody of their loves. Delighted with the change, young Henry
could not help exclaiming to his father, as they walked forth
together to enjoy the awakening beauties of nature, he wished
that it were always spring. This, also, was noted down and
forgotten.
3. Summer came, with its delightful warmth and its floral beau¬
ties, and autumn followed, with its changeful harvest-fields; and
each in succession seemed to the happy boy more delightful than
all that had preceded. At length, when he gave utterance to
the wish that the season of harvest, with its joyous reaping and
its abundant fruits, should never cease, his father produced the
record of his successive wishes, and proved to him how little
capable we are of ordering that which is best for ourselves, 01
of wisely comparing the present with the past.
4. 0 Nature ! all thy seasons please the eye
Of him who sees a present Deity in all.
It is His presence that diffuses charms
Unspeakable o'er mountain, wood and stream.
To think that He, who hears the heavenly choirs,w
Hearkens complacent to the woodland song ;
To think that He, who rolls yon solar sphere,
Uplifts the warbling songster to the sky ;
To mark His presence in the mighty bow
That spans the clouds as in the tints minute
Of tiniest" flower ; to hear His awful voifee
In thunder speak, and whisper in the gale ;
To know and feel His care for all that lives ;
'Tis this that makes the barren waste appear
A fruitful field, each grove a paradise.
6. Yes ! place me 'mid far stretching woodless wilds,
Where no sweet song is heard; the heath-bell there
Would please my weary sight, and tell of Thee !
There would my gratefully uplifted eye
Survey the heavenly vault, by day, by night,
When glows the firmament from pole *v> pole ;
There would my overflowing heart exclaim,
" The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
The firmament shows forth His handiwork ! "
OHAHAMB.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
161
6. It is not requisite for us to explore those vast fields wherein
the imagination is lost in the boundlessness of creation, in order
to form some adequate conception of the attributes of the
Creator. The minu'test of his works alike proclaim " The
hand that made us is divine." The Spring discloses to us the
Bwelling seed, the bttrsting bulb, the snow-drop and the crocus
piercing through the half-melted snow, and the birds already
beginning their ingenious structures in the still leafless boughs.
7. The Summer adds new and inexhaustible®1 sources of in¬
struction. Every leaf teems with life. The air is filled with
the sounds of animated and joyous existence; the earth abounds
with proofs of Divine beneficence, wisdom and power; and
nature opens upon us in all her fulness, defying as effectually
the comprehension of all that^he discloses, as does that wider
universe to which the astronomer directs his curious gaze.
8. So it is with Autumn: rich in her abundant harvests, and
no less fruitful in abundant mental stores than in plenteous sup
plies for our bodily appetites. Last of all comes the Winter,—
the sleep of nature, — with its snows, its ice, its decay, and
withering, and death; and yet it, too, no less than all the others,
abounds in proofs of wondrous wisdom, goodness and power.
9. God is indeed manifest in all his works. We cannot shut
our eyes on the proofs, which surround us, proclaiming for all
existences a Divine Creator; for all governance, a Divine Ruler;
and for all that is, animate or inanimate, a Divine sustainer,
without whom existence becomes inconceivable, even for a
moment.
10. Behind the visible is everywhere manifest the invisible.
Nature, law and order, generation, vitality, reproduction, and
all the instincts which so wisely guide the animate creation, will
satisfy no intelligent mind as final pauses. They are but steps
in a process of reasoning by which, at length, we reach to that
great First Cause, the Alpha®1 and O-me ga,EI the beginning and
ending, the first and the last, the Almighty.
11. These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
14*
162
the standard fourth reader.
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is halm ;
Echo192 the mountains round ; the forest smiles ;
And every sense and every heart is joy.
12. Then comes thy glory in the Summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year :
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks,
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales
13. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfineu,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
14. In Winter awful Thou ! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled,
Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing,
Biding sublime, thou bid'st the world adore,
And humblest Nature with thy northern blast.
THOMSON
LI. ANECDOTE OF SIB MATTHEW HALE.
1. A* gentleman, who possessed an estate of about five him-
dxed pounds a year in the eastern part of England, had Wo
sons. The elder, being of a rambling disposition, went abroad.
After several years, his father died; when the younger son,
destroying the will that had been made in the elder brother's
favor, seized upon the estate. He gave out that his elder
brother was dead, and bribed false witnesses to attest the truth
®f this report.
2. In the course of time, the elder brother returned; but,
being in destitute circumstances, found it difficult to establish his
claims. At length he met with a lawyer who interested himself
in his cause so far as to consult the first judge of the age, Sir
Matthew Hale,EI Lord Chief Justice, in regard to it. The
judge satisfied himself as to the justice of the claims of the
elder brother, and then promised his assistance..
3. The cause came to trial at Chelmsford, in Essex. On the
appointed day, Sir Matthew Hale disguised himself in the clothes -
of an honest miller whom he had met on his way, and, thus
equipped, entered the county hall where the cause was to be
tried. Here he found out the plaintiff,®1 and, entering into eon
THE STANDARD .FOURTH READER.
163
versation with him, inquired what were his prospects; to which
the plaintiff replied, " My cause is in a very precarious situa¬
tion, and if I lose it I am ruined for life."
4. "Well, honest friend," replied the pretended miller, "will
you take my advice? Every Englishman has the right and
privilege to take exception to any one juryman through the
whole twelve; now, do you insist upon your privilege, without
giving a reason why, and, if possible, get me chosen in place of
some one whom you shall challenge,®1 and I will dp you all the
service in my power."
5. The plaintiff shook the pretended miller by the hand, and
promised to follow his advice; and so, when the clerk®1 called
over the names of the jurymen, he objected to one of them. The
judge on the bench was much offended at this libe?-ty. " What
do you mean," he asked, " by taking exception to that gentle¬
man ? " — "X mean, my lord," said the plaintiff, " to assert my
privilege as {in Englishman, without giving a reason why."
6. The judge had been highly bribed; and, in order to con •
eeal it by a show of candor, and having confidence in the supe¬
riority of his party, he said, "Well, sir, whom would you wish
to have in place of him you have challenged ? " After a short
time spent in looking round upon the audience, " My lord,"
. -said the plaintiff, " I will choose yonder miller, if you please."
Accordingly the supposed miller was directed to take his place
m the jury.
7. As soon as the clerk of the court had administered the'
usual oath to all, a little, dexterous fellow came into the apartment,
and slipped ten golden guineas into the hand of every one of the
jurymen except the miller, to whom he gave but five. " How
much have you got ? " whispered the miller to his next neighbor.
- " Ten pieces," said the latter. — The miller said nothing ; the
cause was opened by the plaintiff's counsel, and all the scraps
of evidence that could be adduced in his favor were brought
forward.
8. The younger brother was provided with a great number of
witnesses and pleaders, all plentifully bribed, like the judge.
The witnesses deposed®' that they were in the same country
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
where the brother died, and had seen the burial of his mortal
remains. The counsellors pleaded upon this accumulated evi¬
dence, and everything went with a full tide in favor of the
younger brother. The judge summed up the evidence with great
gravity and deliberation. — " And now, gentlemen of the jury,"
said he, " lay your heads together, and bring in your verdict as
you shall deem just."
9. They waited but a few minutes; and then, supposing that
all were determined in favor of the younger brother, the judge
Baid: " Gentlemen, are you all agreed ? and who shall speak
for you ?" — " We are, I believe, all agreed," replied one; "our
foreman shall speak for us." —" Hold, my lord," replied the
miller; " we are not all agreed." — " Why ? " said the judge,
in a very surly tone, " what's the matter with you ? What
reasons have you for disagreeing ? "
10. " I have several reasons, my lord," replied the miller ;
" the first is, they have given to all these gentlemen, of the jury
ten broad pieces of gold, and to me but five; which, you know,
is not fair. Besides, I have many objections to make to the false
reasonings of the pleaders, and the contradictory evidence of
the witnesses." Upon this, the miller began a discourse, which
discovered such penetration of judgment, such a knowledge of
law, and was expressed with such manly and energetic eloquence,
that it astonished the judge and the whole court.
11. As the speaker was going on with his powerful demon¬
strations, the judge, in great surprise, stopped him. " Where
did you come from, and who areEI you? " — "I came from
Westminster Hall," replied the miller; "my name is Matthew
Hale; I am Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. I have
observed the iniquity of your proceedings this day; therefore,®1
come down from a seat which you are nowise worthy to hold.
You are one of the corrupt parties in this nefarious business.
I will come up this moment, and try the cause over again."
12. Accordingly Sir Matthew went up, with his miller's dress
and hat on, began the trial anew, and subjected the testimony
to the most searching scrutiny. He made the elder brother's
title to the estate clear and manifest, from the contradictory
the standard fourth reader.
1Gb
evidence of the witnesses, and the false reasoning of the pleaders;
unravelled all the sophistry®1 of the latter to the very bottom,
and gained a complete victory in favor of truth and justice.
Anon.
LII. — THE COTTAGER AND HIS LANDLORD.
A peasant to his lord paid yearly court,
Presenting pippins of so rich a sort,
That he, displeased to have a part alone,
Removed the tree, that all might be his iwn.
The tree, too old to travel, though before
So fruitful, withered, and would yield no more.
The squire, perceiving all his labor void,
Cursed his own pains, so foolishly employed;
And, " 0," he cried, " that I had lived content
With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant1
My avarice has expensive proved to me,
And cost me both my pippins and my tree."
CoWPER, from the LATIN OF MlLTOK
LIU. — FROM AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL.
I hate long arguments verbosely®1 spun;
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done.
Once on a time, an emperor, a wise man,
No matter where, in China cr Japan,
Decreed that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,
Convicted once, should ever after wear
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare.
The punishment importing this, no doubt,
That all was naught within, and all found out.
O happy Britain ! we have not to fear
Sucn hard and arbitrary measure here;
jlilse, — could a law like that which I relate
Once have the sanction of our triple state, —
166
the standard fourth reader.
Some few, that I have known in days, of old,
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold, —
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow,
Might traverse England32 safely to and fro,
An honest man, close-buttoned to the chin,
Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within!
Cowper.
LIV. TOO LATE TO DISPARAGE AMERICA.
1. It is too late to disparage®1 America. Accustomed to look
with wonder on the civilization of the past, upon the unblest
glories of Greece and of Rome, upon mighty empires that
have risen but to fall, the English mind has never fixed itself on
the grand phenom'enonEI of a great nation at school. Viewing
America as a fro'ward®1 child that has deserted its home and
abjured®1 its par'ent, we have ever looked upon her with a
callous®1 heart, and with an evil eye, judicially blind to her
progress.
2. But how she has gone on de-vel'oping the resources of a
region teeming with vegetable life ! How she has intrenched
herself amid noble institutions, with temples enshrined in reli¬
gious toleration, with universities of private bequest and public
organization, with national®1 and unshackled schools, and with
all the improvements which science, literature and philan'thropy
demand from the citizen or from the state !
o. Supplied from the Old World with its superabundant life
the Anglo-Saxon®1 tide has been carrying its multiplied popula*
1 ion to the West, — rushing onward through imper'vious®1 for¬
ests, levelling their lofty pines, and converting the wilderness
into abodes of populous plenty, intelligence and taste. - Nor is
this living flood the destroying scourge which Providence some¬
times lets loose upon our species. It breathes in accents which
'are our own. It is instinct with English life; and it bears on
its snowy crest the auro'ral®1 light of the East, to gild the dark¬
ness of the West with the purple radiance of salvation, of
knowledge, and of peace.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
167
4. In the arts which contrib'ute to domestic comfort and
national aggran'dizement, the American States will sustain no
unfavorable comparison with Europe. Their railroads supply
the necessities of the traveller in all directions. Their steam
boats, on river or ocean, are unrivalled. Their telegraphio
.ines, superior in cheapness and utility to ours, have been car¬
ried for thousands of miles into regions where the iron pathway
h as not been able to penetrate.
5. And what parallel shall we find to the mineral and agri¬
cultural wealth of this country ? Her empire of coal, her king¬
dom of cotton and of corn, her regions of gold and of iron,
mark out America as the centreEI of civilization, as the empo¬
rium1" of the world's commerce, as the gran'ary and store-house
out of which the kingdoms of the East will be clothed and fed;
and, we greatly fear, as the asylum in which our children will
take refuge when the hordes" of Asia and the semi-barbarians
of Eastern Europe shall again darken and desolate the West.
6. Though dauntless in her mien, and colossal in her strength,
she displays upon her banner the star of peace. Shedding its
radiance upon us, let us recip'rocate the celestial light! And,
strong and peaceful ourselves, we shall have nothing to fear
fi om her power, but everything to learn from her example.
North British Review.
LY. — LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG.
[A true story, showing the lamentable effects of hasty wrath.J
* 1.
The spearmen heard the bugle sound, and cheerily smiled the morn.;
And many a brach,EI and many a hound, attend Llewellyn's horn.
And still he blew a louder blast, and gave a louder cheer ;
" Come, Gelert! 70 why art thou the last Llewellyn's horn to hear ?
0 I where does faithful Gelert roam, the flower of all his. race ?
So true, so brave,— a lamb at home, a lion in the chase ! "
That day Llewellyn little loved the chase of hart or hare;
And scant and small the booty proved, for Gelert was not there.
2.
Unplaased Llewellyn homeward hied, when, near the portal seat,
Hi« truant Gelert he espied, bounding his lord to greet
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But when he gained the castle-door, aghast the chieftain stood ;
Ihe hound was smeared with goutsEI of gore; his lips and fangs ran blood !
Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise ; unused such looks to meet,
His favorite checked his joyful guise, and crouched, and licked his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn passed (and on went Gelert too),
And still, where'er his eyes were cast, fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!
3.
O'erturned his infant's bed he found, the blood-stained cover rent;
And all around the walls and ground with recent blood besprent.®1
He called his child ; no voice replied ; he searched with terror wild ;
Blood ! blood ! he found on every side, but nowhere found his child !
" Death-hound ! by thee my child's devoured ! " the frantic father cried;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword he plunged in Gelert's side.
His suppliant, as to earth he fell, no pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell passed heavy o'er his heart.
4.
Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, some slumberer wakened nigh:
What words the par'ent's joy can tell, to hear his infant cry !
Concealed beneafA a mangled heap, his hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep, his cherub boy he kissed !
Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread ; but the same couch beneath
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead, tremendous still in death !
Ah ! what was then Llewellyn's pain ! for now the truth was clear ;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain, to save Llewellyn's heir.193
5.
Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe ! " Best of thy kind, adieu !64
The frantic deed that laid thee low, this heart shall ever rue ! "
And now a noble tomb they raise, with costly sculpture decked ;
And marbles, storied with his praise, poor Gelert's bones protect.
Here never could the,spearmen pass, or forester, unmoved ;
Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
And here he hung his horn and spear, and oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear poor Gelert's dying yell.
W. R. Spencer.
LVI.— SEEKING AND FINDING.
tutor and pupils.
Tutor. Well, boys, although school is ended, the rain is
pouring in such torrents that you must wait a while. Suppose
we occupy the time in talking about your plans and wishes for
the future. — What is it your ambition to become, Charles ?
THE STANDARD V0URTH READER.
169
Charles. I wish to be a great merchant; — to have ships in
all parts of the world — to have a splendid house in the city,
and another in the country by the sea-shore, with a plenty of
horses, a green-house, and a bowling-alley.
Tutor. Truly a modest young man in your desires! But let
me, understand you: do you wish to be a merchant that you may
have his opportunities of activity, or is it riches mainly that you
covet, and that you would like to have, independently of your
occupation as a merchant ?
Charles. I would prefer being a merchant, because he has
the best chance of becoming rich.
Tutor. Enough; I think I understand you now. — Well
Paul, what would you like to be ?
Paul. A great scholar, sir. I would like to know many lan¬
guages and sciences — to be a great philosopher, in short.
Tutor. A man may be a great scholar without being a great
philosopher. A scholar deals in a knowledge, of facts; a philos¬
opher, in a knowledge of the reasons of things.
Paul. I would like to know both the facts and the reasons
for them.
Tutor. Bravo !11 Prepare, then, for a life of constant study
and meditation. — And how is it with you, Arthur? How do
your wishes tend?
Arthur. I would be a great statesman, sir, like Webster or
Clay; only I would be President of the United States, which
neither of them was.
Tutor. Ho I understand that you would be a great statesman
rather than be President, or vi-ce 'versa? You hesitate. By the
Latin words vi-ce versa, I mean the opposite way, the reverse.
Arthur. I would be a successful statesman, sir.
Tutor. Do you mean successful as to worldly advancement,
or successful as to actual ability and intellectual achievement ?
Arthur. 1 mean successful as to worldly advancement.
Tutor. I am sorry to hear the confession. — Well, B-obert,
what is likely to be your aim ?
Robert. I would be a popular author, sir, and write bookl
that should delight and improve mankind.
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Tutor. A laudable ambition; only remember that a popular
author may often be a superficial®1 and inferior author. An
author" who aims at enduring fame, and would influence genera¬
tions unborn, must often give up all hope of present popularity,
and write books that are slow in winning their way to a profit¬
able circulation.
Robert. Well, sir, I would be successful in the highest sense
of the word. I would have the consciousness of having written
for a permanent fame, rather than a present fleeting popularity.
Tutor. The choice is honorable to you.—And what would
you be, John ?
John. An artist, sir; a great painter, worthy to have his paint
ings hung by the side of those of Titian, and Reynolds, and Allston.
Tutor. A high ambition, and a worthy one! But look out
for years of labor, many failures, many disappointments, before
your triumph. — And now, Henry, let me hear from you.
Henry. I hope to be an extensive farmer, sir: to have any
number of acres under cultivation; several hundred cows; sev¬
eral thousand sheep; and horses and colts without number.
Tutor. A little extravagant; but the life of an active, intel¬
ligent farmer, is one that offers as fair a prospect for health and
happiness as any in the whole circle of human occupations.
— And how is it with your inclination, George ?
George. Above all things, I would be a great orator.
Tutor. And would you show your talents in the pulpit, or at
the bar, or in the political assembly ?
George. I have not decided that point yet, sir. But I would
delight in being esteemed the most eloquent man of my time.
Tutor. Would you simply be esteemed eloquent, .or would
you have your eloquence an instrument of good in overcoming
mis'ohievous errors, and insuring hospitality for great truths ?
George. I have not got far enough to decide on that sir.
Tutor. Eloquence without principle is but armed injustice.
The orator whose only aim is reputation and effect may be a
popular, but never a great orator. — Well, Benjamin Franklin,
we come to you the last, as you are the young'est. What do
you hope to be ?
THE STANDARD WORTH READER.
17*
Benjamin. A great general, sir, like Hannibal, Csosar and
Napoleon Bonaparte.
Tutor. Indeed ! I did not dream that we had a man of such
immense martial ambition among us. You would gain great
victories, I suppose ?
Benjamin. I would like to have the whole world at war with
me, conquer every nation in succession, and then whip them all
together.
Tutor. Really, I do not see how we are to provide for your
case. Our country is happily at peace now, and likely to remain
so. What would your great namesake say to such an ambition ?
He hated war, as, indeed, all good men must. We will hope
that as you grow older you will see cause to alter your views,
and aspire to a more tranquil and honorable career.
And now, boys, let me tell you that it will not be so difficult
and improbable as you may imagine for you to attain in life
precisely what you aim at. A steady, eager perseverance, the
vigilant pursuit of all our opportunities, the exercise of an
average degree of common sense and sagacity, will generally
lead to the attainment of what we have earnestly at heart The
sacred words, " Seek, and ye shall find," are almost as true of
worldly success as of spiritual and heavenly.
But let me warn you of one thing : you must not complain i£
when you have earned the one prize you set out for, you find
yourselves destitute of other things, that may then seem better
and more important. For instance, Charles wishes to be rich;
he can become rich, no doubt, by giving his entire time and
thoughts to that one object; but let him not repine if, when h«
has attained to wealth, he find himself destitute of those tastes
and resources which alone can point to its rational enjoyment.
Let him*not complain of an utter mental and spiritual barren¬
ness ;* a soul which cannot see beyond the hori'zon of the counting-
room ; an enthusiasm which can only be roused at the eight of
money-bags.
Another — it is Paul, I believe — hopes to be a great philos¬
opher. When he has accomplished himself so far as to deserve
the name, he will not murmur if his neighbor— an uneducated.
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TUB STANDARD FOURTH READER.
illiterate man, with a stunted mind and a closed heart—should roll
oy him in a splendid carriage, while he (Paul) is obliged to trudge
along the highway on foot. Each made his choice, and each has
his compensation. Unless the philosopher would change his
mind, as well as his worldly condition, for the rich man's, he has
no business to complain of his lot, or to suppose that the rich
man is better off.
By pursuing a certain course of political action, and trimming
his sails according to the shifting breezes of popular favor, Ar¬
thur, who aspires to mere success, independent of merit, if he
do not rise to be president, may come pretty near it; for, alas!
our presidents now-a-days are not always selected because of
their preeminent virtue and ability, as were Washington and
others. But Arthur must not complain if he find himself, when
at the height®7 of his political ladder, despised by good men and
true, his conscience stained and seared, and his self-respect van¬
ished. He will have selected his prize, and won it. Let him
not covet the prizes of other people.
I might go on, and illus'trate my meaning by reference to what
the rest of you have said. But the shower is over, and I must
end. The true course is this: first seek to be good, devout,
moral, intelligent, generous and just; and then, whatever mode
of life you may choose, you may be pretty sure to avoid its
dangers, at the same time that you may reap from it all the ben¬
efits that a reasonable man should aspire to. You may be com¬
fortably rich, without being sensual, selfish and mentally defi¬
cient ; famous, without losing your uprightness; learned, without
cultivating the mind at the expense of the heart.
To Robert, who aspires to be a great author, I would recall
a little incident in the life of the most successful author of his
day, Sir Walter Scott.®1 A few minutes before he sank into the
state of unconsciousness which preceded his death, he called his
son-in-law and biographer, Lockhart, to his bed-side, and said :
" Lockhart, I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear,
be a good man, — be virtuous, be religious, — be a good man.
Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie
here." Oslxn-ne,
the standard fourth reader.
LVII.— THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.
1. 'T was morn — the rising splendor rolled
On marble towers and roofs of gold ;
Hall, court and gallery, below,
Were crowded with a living flow;
Egyptian, Arab, Nubian, there,—
The bearers of the bow and spear,
The hoary priest, the Chaldee®1 sage,
The slave, the gemmed and glittering page —
Helm,154 turban and tiara,EI shSne
A dazzling ring round Pharaoh's®1 throne.
2. There came a man — the human tide
Shrank backward from his stately stride :
His cheek with storm and time was tanned ;
A shepherd's staff29 was in his hand ;
A shudder of instinctive fear
Told the dark king what step was near ;
On through the host the stranger came,
It parted round his form like flame.
3. He stooped not at the foot-stool stone,
He clasped not sandal, kissed not throne;
Erect he stood amid the ring,
His only words — " Be just, 0 king!"
On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high,
A fire was in his sullen eye;
Yet on the chief of Israel
No arrow of his thousands fell;
All mute and moveless as the grave
Stood chilled the satrap®1 and the slave.
4. " Thou 'rt come," at length the monarch spoke,
Haughty and high the words outbroke :
" Is Israel weary of its lair,
The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare ?
Take back the answer to your band :
Go, reap the wind! go, plough®1 the sand!
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f
Go vilest of the living vile,
To build the never-ending pile,
Till, darkest of the nameless dead,
The vulture on their flesh is fed
"What better asks the howling slave
Than the base life our bounty gave ? "
5 Shouted in pride the turbaned peers,
XJpclashed to heaven the golden spears.
'< King! thou and thine are doomed! — Behold!'
The prophet spoke — the thunder rolled!
Along the pathway of the gun
Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun.
" Yet there is time," the prophet said:
He raised his staff — the storm was stayed :
" King ! be the word of freedom given :
What art thou, man, to war with Heaven ? "
6. There came no word — the thunder broke!
Like a huge city's final smoke; —
Thick, lurid, stifling, mixed with flame,
Through court and hall the vapors came.
Loose as the stubble in the field,
Wide flew the men of spear and shield;
Scattered like foam along the wave,
Flew the proud pageant," prince and slave :
Or, in the chains of terror bound,
Lay, corpse-like," on the smouldering" ground.
" Speak, king! — the wrath is but begun ! —
Still dumb ? — then, Heaven, thy will be done 1"
7* Echoed from earth a hollow roar
Like ocean on the midnight shore !
A sheet of lightning o'er them wheeled,
The solid ground beneath them reeled;
In dust sank roof and battlement;
Like webs the giant walls were rent;
the standard fourth reader.
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Bed, broad, before bis startled gaze
The monarch saw his Egypt blaze.
Sltill swelled the plague — the flame grew pale-
Burst from the clouds the charge of hail
With arrowy keenness, iron weight,
Down poured the ministers of fate;
Till man and cattle, crushed, congealed,
Covered with death the boundless field.
8. Still swelled the plague — uprose the blast,
The avenger, fit to be the last:
On ocean, river, forest, vale,
Thundered at once the mighty gale.
Before the whirlwind flew the tree,
BeneaZA the whirlwind roared the sea;
A thousand ships were on the wave —
Where areEI they ? — ask that foaming grave '.
Down go the hope, the pride of years,
Down go the myriad mariners;
The riches of earth's richest zone
Gone ! like a flash of lightning, gone!
9 And, lo ! that first fierce triumph o'er,
Swells ocean on the shrinking shore;
Still onward, onward, dark and wide,
Engulfs the land the furious tide.
Then bowed thy spirit, stubborn king,
Thou serpent, reft of fang and sting;
Humbled154 before the prophet's knee,
He groaned, " Be injured Israel free ! "
10. To heaven the sage upraised his wand;
Back rolled the deluge from the land ;
Back to its caverns sank the gale ;
Fled from the noon the vapors pale;
Broad burned again the joyous sun :
The hour of wrath and death was done.
Rev. Geo. Csoiii
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LVIII. — THE HISTORY OF PRINCE ARTHUR.
1. At two-and-thirty years of age, in the year 1200, John
became King of England. His pretty * little nephew,® Arthur,
had the best claim to the throne ; but John seized the treasure,
and made fine promises to the nobility, and got himself crowned
at Westminster within a few weeks after his brother Richard's
death. I doubt whether the crown could possibly have been put
upon the head of a meaner coward, or a more detestable villain,
if the country had been searched from end to end to find him
out.
2. The French king, Philip, refused to acknowledge the right
of John to his new dignity, and declared in favor of Arthur.
You must not suppose that he had any generosity of feeling for
the fatherless boy; it merely suited his ambitious schemes to
oppose the King of England. So. John and the French king
went to war about Arthur.
3. He was a handsome boy, at that time only twelve years
old. He was not born when his father, Geoffrey,® had his brains
trampled out at the tournament;® and, besides the misfortune
of never having known a father's guidance and protection, he
had the additional misfortune to have a foolish mother (Con¬
stance by name), lately married to her third husband. She took
Arthur, upon John's accession, to the French king, who pre¬
tended to be very much his friend, and made him a knight,® and
promised him his daughter in marriage ; but who cared so little
about him in reality, that, finding it his interest to make peace
with King John for a time, he did so without the least consider¬
ation for the poor little prince, and heartlessly sacrificed® all his
interests.
4. Young Arthur, for two years afterward, lived quietly •
and in the course of that time his mother died. But the French
king, then finding it his interest to quarrel with King John
again, again made Arthur his pretence,® and invited the orphan
* Practise the Exercises , on the seventh elementary sound, commencing
page 35.
TILE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
177
boy to court. " You know your rights, prince,' said the French
king, " and you would like to be a king. Is it not so ?." —
" Truly," said Prince Arthur, " I should greatly like to be a
king! " —" Then," said Philip, " you shall have two hundred
gentlemen who are knights of mine, and with them you shall go
to win back the provinces belonging to you, of which your uncle,
tho usurping King of England, has taken possession. I mySelf
meanwhile, will head a force against him in Normandy."
5. Prince Arthur went to attack the town of Mirebeau,*1
because his grandmother, Eleanor, was living there, and because
his knights said, " Prince, if you can take her prisoner, you will
be able to bring the king, your uncle, to terms! " But she was
not to be easily taken. She was old enough by this time —
eighty; but she was as full of stratagem as she was full of
years and wickedness. Receiving intelligence of young Arthur's
approach, she shut herself up in a high tower, and encouraged
her soldiers to defend it like men. Prince Arthur with his little
army besieged the high tower. King John, hearing how matters
stood, came up to the rescue with his184 army. So here was a
strange family party! The boy-prince besieging his grand¬
mother, and his uncle besieging him!
6. This position of affairs did not last long. One summer
night, King John, by treachery, got his men into the town, sur¬
prised Prince Arthur's force, took two hundred of his knights,
and seized the prince himself in his bed. The knights were put
in heavy irons,77 and driven away in open carts, drawn by bul¬
locks, to various dungeons, where they were most inhumanly
treated, and where some of them were starved to death. Prince
Arthur was sent to the castle of Falaise.
7. One day, while he was in prison at that castle, mournfully
thinking it strange that one so young should be in so much
trouble, and looking out of the small window in the deep, dark
wall, at the summer sky and the birds, the door was softly
opened, and he saw his uncle, the king, standing in the shadow
of the archway, looking very grim.
8. "Arthur," said the king, with his wicked eyes more on the
Btone floor than on his nephew,®1 " will you not trust to the gen-
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
tleness, the friendship, and the truthfulness, of jour loving
uncle ? " — "I will tell my loving uncle that," replied the boy,
" when he does me right. Let. him restore to me my kingdom
of England and then come to me and ask the question." The
king looked at him and went out. " Keep that boy close pris¬
oner," said he to the warden of the castle. Then the king took
secret counsel with the worst147 of his nobles, how the prince was
to be got rid of. Some said, " Put out his eyes and keep him in
prison, as Robert of Normandy was kept." Others said, " Have
him stabbed." Others, " Have him hanged." Others, " Have
him poisoned."
9. King John, feeling that in any case, whatever was done
afterward, it would be a satisfaction to his mind to have those
handsome eyes burnt out, that had looked at him so proudly,
while his own royal eyes were blinking at the stone floor, sent
certain ruffians to Falaise to blind the boy with red-hot irons.
But Arthur so pathetically entreated them, and shed such pit¬
eous tears, and so appealed to. Hubert de Bourg, the warden of
the castle, who had a love for him, and was a merciful, tender
man, that Hubert could not bear it. To his eternal honor, he
prevented the torture from being performed; and, at his own
risk, sent the savages away.
10. The chafed and disappointed king bethought himself of
the stabbing suggestion next; and, with his shuffling manner and
his cruel face, proposed it to one William de Bray. "I am a
gentleman, and not an executioner," said William de Bray, and
left the presence with disdain. But it was not difficult for a
king to hire a murderer in those days. King John found one
for his money, and sent him down to the castle of Falaise. " On
what errand dost thou come ? " said Hubert to this fellow. — " To
dispatch young Arthur," he returned. — " Go back to him who
pent thee," answered Hubert, " and say that I will do it! "
11. King John, very well knowing that Hubert would never do
it, bu£ that he evasively sent this reply to save the prince or
gain time, dispatched messengers to convey the young prisoner
to the castle of Rouen." Arthur was soon forced from the kind
Hubert,—of whom he had never stood in greater need thav
the standard fourth reader.
179
then, — carried away by night, and lodged in his new prison
where, through his grated window, he could hear the deep waters
of the river Seine21 rippling against the stone wall below.
12. One dark night, as he lay sleeping, dreaming, perhaps, of
rescue by those unfortunate gentlemen who were -obscurely suf¬
fering and dying in his cause, he was roused, and bidden by his
jailer to come down the staircase to the foot of the tower- He
hurriedly dressed himself, and obeyed. When they came to the
bottom of the winding-stairs, and the night air from the river
blew upon their faces, the jailer trod upon his torch, and put it
out. Then Arthur, in the darkness, was hurriedly drawn into a
solitary boat; and in that boat he found his uncle and one other
man.
13. He knelt to them, and prayed them not to murder him.
Deaf to his entreaties, they stabbed him, and sunk his body in
the river with heavy stones. When the spring morning broke,
the tower-door was closed, the boat was gone, the river sparkled
on its way, and never more was any trace of the poor boy
beheld by mortal eyes. Dickens.
LIX.— DANGEROUS EFFECTS OF FANCY.
1. Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains,
Winning from Reason's hand the reins !
Pity and woe ! for such a mind
Is soft, contem'plative, and kind :
And woe to those who train such youth,
And spare to press the rights of truth,
The mind to strengthten and anneal,M
While on the stithyEI glows the steel!
i 0 ! teach him, while your lessons last,
To judge the present by the past;
Remind him of each wish pursued,
How rich it glowed with promised good;
Remind him of each wish enjoyed,
How soon his hope's possession cloyed :
180 the standard fourth reads*.
•
Tell him, we play unequal game,
Whene'er we shoot by Fancy'^ aim;
And ere*1 he strip him for her race,
Show the conditions of the chase.
3. Two sisters by the goal are set,
Cold Disappointment and Regret:
One disenchants the winner's eyes,
And strips of all its worth the prize;
While one augments its gaudy show,
More to enhance the loser's woe.
The victor sees his fairy gold
Transformed, when won, to drossy mould;
But still the vanquished mourns his'loss,
And rues, as gold, that glittering dross.
Scorr
LX. — MISCELLANEOUS EXTRACTS FROM WASHINGTON'S
WRITINGS.
1. Born in a land of liberty; having early learned its value;
having engaged in the perilous conflict to defend it; having, in
a word, devoted the best years of my life to secure its perma¬
nent establishment in my own country; my anxious recollec¬
tions, my sympathetic feelings, and my best wishes, are irresist¬
ibly attracted, whensoever in any country I see an oppressed
nation unfurl the banners of freedom.
2. . . The name of American, which belongs to you in your
national*1 capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriot¬
ism, more than any appellation derived from local discrimina
tions, With slight shades of difference, you have the same
religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have,
in a common cause, fought and triumphed together. The
independence and liberty you possess are the work of jornt
counsels83 and joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and
successes.
3. . . This government, this offspring of our choice, uninfluenced
THE STAKDARD FOURTH READER.
181
and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature delib¬
eration, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of
its powers uniting security with energy, and containing within
itself a provision for its own amendment, has a just claim to
your confidence and your support. Respect for its authority,
compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties
enjoined by the fundamental maxims of liberty.
4. . . My policy, in our foreign transactions, has been to cul¬
tivate peace with all the world; to observe the treaties with
pure and absolute faith; to check every deviation from the line
of impartiality; to explain what may have been misapprehended,
and correct what may have been injurious to any nation; and,
having thus acquired the right, to lose no time in acquiring the
ability to insist upon justice being done to ourselves.
5. . . A slender acquaintance with the world must convince
every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion®1 of the
attachment of friends; and that the most liberal professions of
good-will are very far from being the surest marks of it. I
should be happy if my own experience had afforded fewer exam
pies of the little dependence to be placed upon them.
6. . . There is no truth more thoroughly established than
that there, exists, in the economy and course of nature, an indis'-
soluble union between virtue and happiness, between duty and
advantage, between the genuine maxims of an honest and mag¬
nanimous policy and the solid rewards of public prosperity and
felicity.
7. . . Let us unite in imploring the Supreme Ruler of na¬
tions to spread his holy protection over the United States; to
turn the machinations®1 of the wicked to the confirming of our
constitution; to enable us, at all times, to' root out internal sedi¬
tion, and put invasion to flight; to perpetuate to our country
that prosperity which His goodness has already conferred, and
to verify the anticipations of this government being a safeguard
of human rights.
8. . . In looking forward to that awfnZ150 moment when I must
bid adieu84 to sublunary®1 things, I anticipate the consolation of
leaving our country in a prosperous condition. And while the
16
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curtain of separation shall be drawing, my last breath will, I
trust, expjpe in a prayer for the temporal and eternal felicity of
those who have not only endeavored to gild the evening of my
days with unclouded serenity, but extended their desires to my
happiness hereafter, in a brighter world.
9. . . Observe good faith and justice towards all nations;
cultivate peace and harmony wi^A all. Religion and morality
enjoin this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not
equally enjoin it ? Can it be that Providence has not connected
the permanent felicity of a nation with it»virtue? The experi¬
ment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles
human nature.
10. . . Conscious integrity has been my unceasing support;
and, while it gave me confidence in the measures 1 pursued, the
belief of it, by acquiring to me the confidence of my fellow-citizens,
insured the success which those measures have had. This con¬
sciousness will accompany me in my retirement. Without it
public applause could be viewed only as a proof nf public error
and felt as the upbraiding of personal demerit.
LXI. — THE BITTER GOURD.
1. Lokman the Wise (therefore the good — for wise
Is but sage good, seeing with final151 eyes)
Was slave once to a lord, jealous though kind,
Who, piqued13 sometimes at the man's master mind,
Grave him, one day, to see how he would treat
So strange a grace, a bitter, gourd151 to eat.
2. With simplest reverence, and no surprise,
The sage received what stretched the donor's eyes:
And, piece by piece, as though it had been food
To feast and gloat on, every morsel chewed :
And so stood eating, with his patient beard,
Till all the nauseous favor disappeared.
8. Yexed and confounded, and disposed to find
Some ground of scorn on which to ease his mind,
" Lokman! exclaimed the master, ' in Heaven's name
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How can a slave himself become so tame ?
Have all my favors been bestowed amiss ? •
Or could not brains like thine have saved thee this ?
4. Calmly stood Lokman still, as Duty stands, —
" Have I received," he answered, " at thy hands
Favors so sweet they went to my heart's root,
And could I not accept one bitter fruit ? "
5. " 0! Lokman," said his lord (and, as he spoke,
For very love his words in softness broke),
" Take but this favor yet: be slave no more;
Be, as thou art, my friend and counsellor;
0 ! be ; nor let me quit thee, self-abhorred; —
'T is I that am the slave, and thou the lord ! "
Hunt.
LXII. — JAFFAR :BI AN EASTERN TRADITION.
1. Jaffar', the Bar'mec-ide,EI the good vizier,EI
The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer, —1
Jaffar' was dead, slain by a doom unjust!
And guilty Ha'roun, sullen with mistrust
Of what the good and e'en the bad might say,
Ordained that no man living, from that day,
Should dare to speak his name, on pain of death: —
All Araby and Persia held their breath.
2. All but the brave ]\Iondeer. He, proud to show
How far for love a grateful soul could go,
And facing death for very scorn and grief
(For his great heart wanted a great relief),
Stood forth in Bagdad daily in the square,
Where once had stood a happy house; and there
Harangued the tremblers at the scimitar
On all they owed to the divine Jaffar'.
/
3. " Bring me the man! " the caliphEI cried. — The man
Was brought, was gazed upon. The mutes began
To bind his arms. " Welcome, brave cords! " cried ho;
" From bonds far worse Jaffar' delivered me*
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From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears,
Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;
Restored me, loved me, put me on a par
With his great self. — How can I pay Jaffar'?'
4. Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate-
Might smile upon another half as great,
And said: " Let worth grow frenzied, if it will;
The caliph's judgment shall be master still.
Go; and, since gifts thus move thee, take this gem,
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,
And hold the giver as thou deemest fit."
t>. " Gifts! " cried the friend. He took; and, holding it
High toward the heaven, as though to meet his star,
Exclaimed, " This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar'!"
Hunt
LXIII. — A BOAT RACE, AND WRECK OF A BOAT.
JL. One gusty day, now stormy and now still,
I stood apart upon the western hill,
And saw a race at sea: a gun was heard,
And two contending boats at length appeared:
EcfUal a while ; then one was left behind,
And for a moment had her chance resigned,
When, in that moment, up a sail they drew —
Not used before — their rivals to pursue.
2. Strong was the gale! in hurry now there came
Men from the town, their thoughts, their fears, the same
And women, too! affrighted maids and wives,
All deeply feeling for their sailors' lives.
The strife continued: in a glass we saw
The desperate efforts, and we stood in awe,
When the last boat shot suddenly before,
Then filled and sank, and could be seen no more!
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8. Then were there piercing shrieks — a frantic flight —
All hurried — all in tumult and affright!
A gathering crowd from different streets drew near;
All ask, all answer — none attend, none hear !
One boat is safe; and, see ! she backs her sail
To save the sinking. — Will her aid avail ?
4. 0 ! how impatient on the sands we tread, —
Th<? wild winds roaring o'er the uncovered head
Of many a woman, who, with frantic air,
Repels each comforter, and will despair.
They know not who in either boat is gone,
But think the father, husband, lover, one.
5. And who is she apart ? She dares not come
To join the crowd, yet cannot rest at home:
With what strong interest looks she at the waves,
Meeting and clashing o'er the seamen's graves!
T is a poor girl betrothed — a few hours more,
And hi will be a corpse upon the shore!
Crabbe.
LXIV. — LIFE AT SEA.
1. We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a
distance. At sea, everything that breaks the monotony®1 of the
surrounding expanse attracts attention. It proved to be the
mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; for
there were®1 the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the
crew had listened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being
washed off bv the waves. There was no trace by which the
name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently
drifted about foF many months; clusters of shell-fish had fast¬
ened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides.
2. But where, thought I, is the crew ? Their struggle has
long been over; they hrve gone down amidst the roar of the
tempest; their bones lie whitening among the caverns of the
deep. Silence, oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them,
and no one can tell the story of their end What sighs have
been wafted after that ship! what prayers offered, up at the
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deserted fireside of home! How often has the mistress, the
wife, the mother, pored over the daily news, to catch some casual
intelligence of this rover of the deep ! How has expectation
darkened into anxiety, anxiety into dread, and dread into des¬
pair ! Alas! not one memento may ever return for love to
cherish. All that may ever be known is, that she sailed from
her port, " and was never heard of more."
3. The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave* rise to xfiany dis¬
mal anecdotes. This was particularly the ease in the evening,
when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look
wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of those sud¬
den storms that will sometimes break in upon the serenity of a
summer voyage. As we sat in the cabin, round the dull light
of a lamp, that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had
his tale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck
with a short one related by the captain.
4. "As I was once sailing," said he, "in a fine, stout ship,
across the banks of Newfoundland,EI one of those heavy fogs which
prevail in those parts rendered it impossible for us to see far
ahead, even in the day-time; but at night the weather was so
thick that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length
of the ship. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant
watch forward to look out for fishing-smacks-, which are accus¬
tomed to lie at anchor on the banks.
5. " The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were
going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch
gave the alarm of ' A sail ahead!' It was scarcely uttered
before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, at anchor,
with her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and
had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just amidships.
The force, the size apd weight, of our vessel, bore her down
•below the waves; wc passed over her, and were hurried on our
course.
6. " As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a
glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, rushing from her
cabin; they just started from their beds to be swallowed shriek
ing by the waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with
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the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of
all further hearing. I shall never forget that cry! It was some
time before we could put the ship about, she was under such
headway. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the
place where the smackEI had anchored. We cruised about for
several hours in the dense fog. We fired signal-guns, and lis¬
tened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors; but all was
silent—-"we never saw or heard anything of them more."
Irving.
LXV. —' THE RESOLVE OF REGULUS.
Reg'ulus, a Roman consul, having been defeated in battle and taken pris¬
oner by the Carthaginians, was detained in captivity five years, and then
sent on an embassy to Rome to solicit peace, under a promise that he would
return to Carthage if the proposals were rejected. These it was thought
he would urge in order to obtain his own liberty ; hut. he urged contrary
and patriotic measures on his countrymen, and then, having carried his
point, resisted the persuasions of his friends to remain in Rome, and
returned to Carthage, where a martyr's death awaited him. Some writers
say that he was thrust into a cask covered over on the inside with iron
spikes, and thus rolled down hill. The following scene presents Regulus
just as he has made known to his friends in Rome his resolution to return
to Carthage.
regulus sertorius.
ISertorius. Stay, Roman, in pity ! — if not for thy life,
For the sake of thy country, thy children, thy wife.
Thy captors of Carthage vouchsafed thee release,
Not to urge Rome to war but to lead her to peace.
Thou return'st to encounter their anger, their rage ; —
No mercy expect for thy fame or thy age !
Regulus. To my captors one pledge, and one only, I gave:
To return, though it were to walk into my grave!
No hope I extended, no promise I made,
Rome's senate and people from war to dissuade.
If the vengeance of Carthage be stored for me now,
I have reaped no dishonor, have broken no vow.
Sert. They released thee, but dreamed not that thou wouldst fulfil
A part that would leave thee a prisoner still:
They hoped thy own danger would lead thee to sway
The councils of Rome a far different way ;
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"Would induce thee to urge the conditions they crave,
If only thy freedom, thy life-blood, to save.
Thought shudders the torment and woe to depict
Thy merciless foes have the heart to inflict!
Remain with us, Reg'ulus ! do not go back !
No hope sheds its ray on thy death-pointing track. —
Keep faith with the faithless? — The gods will forgive
The balking of such. 0 ! live, Regulus, live !
Reg. With the consciousness fixed in the core of my heart
That I had been playing the perjurer's part ?
With the stain ever glaring, the thought ever nigh,
That I owe the base breath I inhale to a lie ?
O, never ! let Carthage infract®1 every oath,
Be false to her word and humanity both,
Yet never will I in her infamy share,
Or turn for a refuge to guilt from despair !
Sert. 0 ! think of the kindred and friends who await
To fall on thy neck, and whAhold®1 thee from fate ;
0 ! think of the widow, the orphans to be, —
And let thy compassion plead softly with me.
Reg. O, my friend! thou canst soften, but canst not subdue
To the faith of my soul I must ever be true.
If my honor I cheapen, my conscience discrown,
All the graces of life to the dust are brought down ;
All creation to me is a chaos"1 once more —
No heaven to hope for, no God to adore! —
And the love that I feel for wife, children, and friend,
Has lost all its beauty, and thwarted its end.
Sert. Let thy country determine.
Reg. My country ? Her will,
Were I free to obey, would be paramount*1 still!
1 go to my doom for my country alone ;
My life is *my country's — my honor, my own !
Sert. O, Regulus ! think of the pangs in reserve!
Reg. What menace should make me from probity swerve ?
Sert. Refinements of pain will these miscreants find
To daunt and disable the loftiest mind.
Reg. And 'tis to a Roman thy fears are addressed !
Sert. Forgive me. I know thy unterrified breast.
Reg. Thou know'st me but human — as weak to sustain
As thyself, or another, the searchings of pain
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This flesh may recoil, and the anguish they wreak
Chase the strength from my knees, and the hue from my cheek;
But the body alone they can vanquish and kill;
The spirit immortal shall smile at them still! —
Then let them make ready their engines of dread,
Their spike-bristling cask, and their torturing bed .
Still Regulus, heaving no recreant breath,
Shall greet as a friend the deliverer Death !
Their cunning in torture and taunt shall defy,
And hold it a joy for his country to die!
Original.
lxyi. — ON PUNS.
1. I have mentioned puns. They are, I believe, what I have
denominated them — the wit of words. They are exactly the
same to words that wit is to ideas, and consist in the sudden38
discovery of relations in language.
2. A pun, to be perfection in its kind, should contain two
distinct meanings: the one, common and obvious; the other,
more remote: and in the notice which the mind takes of the
relation between these two sets of words, and in the surprise
which that relation excites, the pleasure of a pun consists.
3. Miss Hamilton, in her book on education, mentions the
instance of a boy so very neglectful that he never could be
brought to read the word " patriarchs; " but whenever he met
with it he pronounced it " partridges." A friend of the writer
observed to her that it could hardly be considered a mere piece
of negligence; for it appeared to him that the boy, in calling
them partridges, was " making game " of the patriarchs.
4. Now, here are two distinct meanings contained in the same
phrase: for to make game of the patriarchs is to laugh at them,
or to make game of them is, by a very extravagant and laugh¬
able sort of ignorance of words, to rank them among pheasants,
partridges, and other such delicacies, which the law takes under
its protection, and calls " game ; " and the whole pleasure de¬
rived from this pun consists in the sudden discovery that two
such different meanings are referable to one form of expression.
5. I have very little to say about puns; they are in very bad
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repute, and so they ought to be. The wit of language is ss
miserably inferior to the wit of ideas, that*it is very.deservedly
driven out of good company.
6. Sometimes, indeed, a pun makes its appearance, which
seems, for a moment, to redeem its species; but we must not be
deceived by them: it is a radically bad race of wit. By unre¬
mitting persecution, it has been at last got under, and driven into
cloisters — from wkenee it must never again be suffered to emerge
into the light of the world. Rev. Sydney Smith.
LXVII.—THE MAID OF ORLEANS.
1. Joan of Arc, surnamed the Maid of Orleans, from her
heroic defence of that city, was born about the year 1411, in
the little hamlet of Domremy, near the river Meuse, in France,
where her house is.still preserved as a national" relic. Her
parents were humble" and honest peasants.
2. At that time the kingdom of France was nothing more
than a province conquered by the English, who treated the in¬
habitants with great severity. The young and unfortunate King
of France, Charles the Seventh, beheld, day by day, his posses¬
sions taken from him, and his people persecuted.
3. The calamitous state of the nation was a subject of great
concern, even117 in the little, obscure village where Joan dwelt; and
in her prayers she never forgot France and its rightful monarch.
It chanced that a prophecy was current that a virgin should rid
France of its enemies; and this prophecy seems to have been
realized by its effect upon the mind of Joan.
4. Such was her enthusiasm, such her perseverance, that, after
many difficwZties and rebuffs, she gained ac'cess to Charles the
Seventh, and induced him to give her the rank of a military
commander, and allow her to go to raised the siege of Or'le-ans.
She assumed a military cos'tume, and, on the 3d of May, 1429
actually entered the besieged city at the head of a convoy88 of
* To " raise a siege " is to cause a besieging army to relinquish thei/
attempt to take a city by that mode of attack.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READEtt.
191
provisions and munitions of war, which her panic-stricken en©
mies dared not attack.
5. A few days later, in an attack on the English intreneh-
mentsf1 she rushed, armed only with her standard, towards1®
them, seized the first ladder, and planted her colors on the ram¬
parts.*1 An arrow struck her in the shoulder, and she fell to
the ground: the English raised a shout of triumph, and the
French fell back discouraged.
6. Joan, perceiving that victory was about to turn in favor
of the enemy, tore, with her own hand, the arrow from her deep
wound,®1 sprang from the ground, rallied her soldiers, and pen¬
etrated with them into the English intrenchments.
7. " Thus," says an historian, " that famous siege, which had
lasted seven months, — during which all the efforts of the chiv¬
alry13 of France had only succeeded in repelling a few assaults,
— was raised, in a few hours, by the courage of a her'oine of
seventeen. A week after the arrival of Joan of Arc, the enemy
had fled from the walls of the delivered city."
8. Other successes followed this. Wherever Joan presented
herself, the enemy fled before her. The fortunes of Charles the
Seventh were retrieved. The 14th of July, 1429, having as¬
sisted at the ceremony of his coronation, she exclaimed, when it
was over,Now I shall not regret to die! " Having liberated
her country, she wished to retire to her native village, to " sorve
her father and mother in keeping their sheep; " but to this the
king would not consent. She was prevailed upon to continwe
her martial career.
9. Scarcely had a year elapsed since the glorious day on
which she had delivered Orleans, when the courageous girl,
having remained till the very last while the French were retreat¬
ing from the siege of Compiegne,* saw herself surrounded by a
troop of Burgun'dian archers. By parrying their blows, and
receding step by step as she fought, she at last succeeded in
gaining the foot of the ramparts. One step more, and she would
have entered the town.
* Pronjunced Kom-pe-an'.
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
10. But, together from jealousy, or bad management, or treach¬
ery, those who guarded the entrance into the city closed the
gate, the drawbridge was immediately raised, and Joan was a
prisoner. She was delivered over to the English by the Burgun-
dian leader, for a sum of money; and the English, ashamed of
having been conquered by a young girl, thought to efface the
memory of their defeats by accusing her of witchcraft.
11. Joan asserted her innocence of this cruel charge.
" Were I condemned," she said, " were I to behold the fire kin¬
dled, the wood prepared, the executioner ready to tie me to the
stake, — were I even in the midst of the flames, — I would say
only what I have already said, and maintain it until death. I
submit with resignation to whatever torments you have to
inflict. I know not if I have more to suffer: but my trust is in
6od."
12. Fearing lest she might be torn by the people from their
grasp, her cowardly and ever infamous judges condemned her to
death. It was on the 81st of May, 1431, — that is to say,
when Joan was verging on her twentieth year, — that, on a friv¬
olous and wicked charge of her-esyw and witchcraft, she was led
to the stake in the old market-place at Rouen.EI Eight hundred
English soldiers escorted her.
13. A stupendous pile had been erected. The magistrate
commanded the executioner to take Joan, and place her on the
pile. The English soldiers, seeing that she spoke with her con¬
fessor, lost all patience, and exclaimed, "Do you intend to
make us dine here ?" They then seized her themselves, and
tied her to the stake, at the same time calling upon the execu¬
tioner to apply his torch from below. He did so, and the flames
began to- crackle.
14. An intrep'id priest was standing by Joan, and he lin¬
gered, offering her religious consolation, as the smoke ascended.
Even in that dreadful moment, the hero'ic girl seemed to think
more of another's safety than of her own mortal anguish so near.
She begged the priest to go down, but to continue " to speak
pious words " to her from his station below.
15. The last audible utterance from the lips of Joan was the
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193
sacred name oi Jcbus. The assistants, unable to restrain their
tears, exclaimed, " She is innocent! She is truly a Chris¬
tian ! " A secretary of the English monarch, being present, said,
weeping, to one of the judges, "You have ruined us; for they
are burning a holy creature, whose soul is in the handfe of God."
Her ashes were scattered to the winds. Her memory is
immvrtal. From the French
LXVIII. — THE PLANTING.
A PARABLE.®1
" 1 iiaid to my little son, who was watching, with tears, a tree he had
'auWi, * Let it alone; it will grow while yon are sleeping !'"
1. "Plant it safe, thou little child !
Then cease watching and cease weeping :
Thou hast done thy utmost part;
Leave it with a quiet heart, —
It will grow while thou art sleeping."
2. " But, 0 father ! " says the child,
With a troubled face, close creeping,
" How can I but think and grieve,
When the fierce winds come at eve,
And snows beat—and I lie sleeping?
8. " I have loved my linden so !
In each leaf seen future floweret:
Watched it day by day with prayers,
Guarded it with pains and cares,
Lest the canker should devour it.
I. " 0, good father ! " says the child,
" If I come in summer's shining,
And my linden-tree be dead,
How the sun will scorch my head,
Where I sit forlorn and pining!
5. " Rather let me, evermore
Through this winter-time watch keeping,
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Bear the cold, and storms, and frost,
That my treasure be not lost —
Ay, bear aught but idle sleeping."
6. Sternly said the father, then:
" Who art thou, child, vainly grieving ?
Canst thou send the balmy dews,
Or the rich sap interfuse,
That one leaf shall bwrst to leafing ?
7 " Canst thou bid the heavens restrain
Natural tempests for thy praying?
Canst thou bend one tender shoot ?
Stay the growth of one frail root ?
Keep one blossom from decaying?
8. " Plant it; consecrate with prayers;
It is safe 'neath His184 sky's folding
Who the whole earth compasses,
Whether we watch more or less —
His large eye all things beholding." —
9. If his hope, tear-sown, that child
Garnered safe with joyful reaping,
Know I not; yet, unawares,
Oft this truth gleams through my prajers,
" It will grow while thou art sleeping ! "
LXIX. — THE PET! LANT MAN.
mr. grim michael cousin mart.
Cousin Mary. More breezes ? What terrible thing has hap¬
pened now, Cousin * Grim ? What's the matter ?
Grim. Matter enough, I should think! I sent this stwpid
fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet; and he has
brought me two rights, instead of a right and left.
Cousin. What a seriou3 calamity ! But perhaps he thought
it was but right to leave the left.
* See the Exercises under the eighteenth elementary sound, page 38.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
19.0
Grim None of your jokes, if you please! This is nothing
to laugh at.
Cousin. So it would seem, from the expression on your face
— rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a frenzy
about.
Michael. That's right, miss; give him a piece of your mind!
He's the crossest little man I have met with in the new country.
You might scrape old Ireland with a fine-tooth comb, and not
find such another.
Grim. How dare you, you rascal! — how dare you talk to me
in that style ? I '11 discharge you, this very day!
Michael. I'm thinking of discharging you, if you don't tak*1
better care of that sweet temper of yours.
Grim. Leave the room, sir!
Michael. That I will, in search of better company, saving
the lady's presence. [Exit.
Grim. There, cousin! there is a specimen of my provoca¬
tions ! Can you wonder at my losing my temper ?
Cousin. Cousin Grim, that would be the most fortunate thing
that could befall you.
Grim. What do you mean ?
Cousin. I mean, if you could only lose that temper of yours,
it would be a blessed thing for you; though I should pity the
poor fellow who found it.
Grim. You are growing satirical, in your old age, Cousin
Mary.
Cousin. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth: your ill temper
makes you a nuisance to yourself and everybody about you.
Grim. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be
complimentary!
Cousin. No, I am getting to be candid. I have passed a
week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this after¬
noon ; but before I go I mean to speak my mind.
Grim. It seems to me that you have spoken33 it rathei
freely already.
Cousin. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Michael's
bringing the wrong boots, to justify your flying into a rage, and
Delinking a? if your life had b*en threatened ?
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking
blunders!
Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders T
Did n't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for
Souchong ? * Did n't you send a carriage for me to the cars half
an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after great
trouble ? And did I roar at you, when we met, because you
had done these things ?
Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded
to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely
you should make a distinction between any such little oversight
of mine and the stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your
orders.
Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction.
You are both human ; only, as you have had the better education,
and tho greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part is
much the more culpable.
Grim. Thank you ! Go on.
Cousin. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked
potato, or a burnt mutton-chop -appens to fall to your lot at the
dinner-table, what a tempest follows! One would think you had
been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven to despair. Your
face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of the meal. Your poor
wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your children feel timid and
miserable.* Your guest feels as if she would like to see you held
under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked.
Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and
the driver has put on your baggage.
Cousin. I have hir'ed that carriage by the hour, and so am
in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose,
that it is constitutional, and not to be controlled. A selfish,
paltry, miserable excuse ! I have turned down a leaf in Dr
Johnson's works, and will read what he says in regard to tem¬
pers like yours.
Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson ! Cousin, 1
cannot endure it! Dr. Johnson is a bore !
* See Exercises under the eleventh elementary sound, page 37
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
197
Cousin 0,yes! to evil-doers, —but to none else. Hear him .
1 There is in the world a class of mortals known, and contentedly
Known, by the appellation of passionate men, who imagine them¬
selves entitled, by this distinction, to be provoked on every
slight occasion, and to vent their rage in ve'hement and fierce
vociferations, in furious menaces, and licentious reproaches."
Grim. That will do.
Cousin. Men of this kind, he tells us, are often pitied rather
than censured, and are not treated with the severity which their
neglect of the ease of all about them might justly provoke. But
he adds : " It is surely not to be observed without indignation,
that men may be found of minds mean enough to be satisfied
with this treatment; wretches who are proud to obtain the
privilege of madmen, and "
Grim. I will hear no more ! Have done 1
Cousin. So the shaft went home! I am not sorry.
Grim. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of
insulting a man in his own house!
Cousin. So, when at a loss for a vindication, you reproach
me with being an old maid! Cousin, it does not distress me
either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, however,
remark that the manhood that can charge against a woman her
single state, either as a matter of ridicule or reproach, is not
quite up to my standard.
Grim. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon ! But am I indeed
the petulant, disagreeable fellou), you would make me out ?
Cousin. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large
things; but, 0! consider that trifles make up a good portion of
the sum of life; and so " a small unkindness is a great
offence." Why not be cheerful, sunny, genial, in little things?
Why not look on the bright side? why not present an unruf¬
fled frorit to petty annoyances? why not labor — ay, labor —
to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting from
yourself such a frame of mind upon them ?
Life is short, at the best; why not make it cheerful ? Do you
know that longevity®1 is promoted by a tranquil, happy habit of
thought and temper? Do you know that cheerfulness, like
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merej, is twice blessed; blessing "him that gives, and him that
takes " ? Do you know that good manners, as well as good
sense, demand that we should look at objects on their bright
side ? Do you know that it is contemptible selfishness in you to
shed gloom and sorrow over a whole family by your moroseness
and ill-humor?
Grim. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have lis¬
tened to your cutting remarks will prove to you, I hope, that,
notwithstanding my angry retorts, I am afraid there is much
truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to ask.
Send away your carriage; stay a week longer — a month — a
year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly temper of mine
— and I give you my word that I will set about the cure of it
in earnest.
Cousin. You should have begun earlier — in youth, when the
temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great changes.
But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a while, just to
see if you are serious in your wish for a reformation, and to help
you bring it about.
Grim. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and
reformed thieves; and why may not a petulant temper be
reformed, by a system of total abstinence from all harsh, unkind
moods and expressions ? Come, we will try. Osborne.
LXX. — WOODHULL.
General Nathaniel Woodhull was born at Mastic, Long Island, in 1722,
and was engaged in several gallant actions during the war of the American
Revolution. At the time of the invasion of Long Island by the royal forces,
in 1776, he was overtaken at Jamaica, with two or three companions, by
a detachment of the seventeenth regiment of Eritish dragoons, and the-
seventy-first regiment of infantry. He gave up his sword, in token of sur¬
render ; but the subordinate officer, who first approached, ordered him to
say, " God save the king !': This Woodhull refused to do ; for which the
officer struck him severely over the head with his sword ; and of the effects
of the wound Woodhull died.
I 'T was when Long Island's heights beheld the king's invading horde,
That, by out-numbering foes compelled, our chief gave up his sword.
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Then spoke the victor : " Now from me no mercy shall you wring,
' Unless, base rebel, on your knee, you cry, ' God save the king !'
With reverent, but undaunted tone, then Woodhull made reply
" No king I own, save one alone, the Lord of earth and sky !
2. " But far from me the wish that ill your monarch should befall;
So freely, and with right good will, I '11 say, God save us all ! "
Shouted192 the foeman, " Paltering slave! repeat, without delay,
' God save the king," nor longer brave the fury that can slay "
But Woodhull said, " Unarmed I hear ; yet threats cannot appall:
Ne'er passed these lips the breath of fear, and so — God save us all."
S " Then, rebel,88 rue thy stubborn will," the ruffian victor cried ;
"This weapon shall my threat fulfil ; so perish in thy pride ! "
Rapid as thought the murderous blow fell on the prisoner's head ;
With warrior rage he scanned his foe, then, staggering, sank and blew'1
But anger vanished with his fall ; his heart the wrong forgave:
Dying, he sighed, " God save you all, and me, a sinner, save ! "
LXXI. — A PLEASANT SURPRISE.
1. A young man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a uni¬
versity, took a walk one day with a professor, who was com¬
monly called the student's friend, such was his kindness to the
young men it was his office to instruct. While they were walk-
>ng together, and the professor was seeking to lead the conversa¬
tion to grave subjects, they saw a pair of old shoes lying in
their path, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who
was at work close by, and who had nearly finished his day's
task.
2. The young student turned to the professor, saying, " Let us
play the man a trick; we will hide his shoes, and conceal our¬
selves behind those bushes, and watch his perplexity when he
cannot- find them." — " My dear friend," answered the professor,
" we must never amuse ourselves- at the expense of the puor.
But you are rich, and you may give yourself a much greater
pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a dollar into each
shoe, and then we will hide ourselves."
3. The student did so, and then placed himself, with the pro«
lessor, behind the bushes close by, through which they could
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easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he
might express. The poor man had soon finished his work, and
came across the field to the path, where he had left his coat and
shoes. While he put on the coat, he slipped one foot into one
of his shoes ; but, feeling something hard, he stooped down and
found the dollar. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his
countenance. He gazed upon the dollar, turned it around, and
looked again and again; then he looked around him on all sides,
but could see no one.
4. Now he put the money in his pocket, and proceeded to put
on the other shoe ;• but how great his surprise when he found
the other dollar ! His feelings overcame him; he saw that the
money was a present; and he fell upon his knees, looked up to
heaven, and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he
spoke of his wife sick and helpless, and his children without
bread, whom this timely bounty from some unknown hand
would save from perishing.
5. The young man stood there deeply affected, and tears filled
his eyes. " Now," said the professor, " are you not much better
pleased than if you had played your intended trick ? " — " 0,
dearest sir," answered the youth, "you have taught me a lesson
now that I will never forget! I feel now the truth of the words,
which I never before understood, ' It is better to give than to
receive.' We should never approach the poor but with the wish
to do them good." From the German.
LXXII. — FALSEHOODS OF EXAGGEKATION.
1. Besides the falsehoods which people designedly speak,
there is a kind which springs from negligence, hastiness, or a
warm imagination. Br. Samuel Johnson was of opinion that
most lying arises from indifference about the truth, rather than
from a wish to deceive. People are not sufficiently anxious to be
correct; they say anything that comes uppermost, or what they
think will please, without reflecting whether it be strictly true
or not. It is a common error of tradesmen, from a desire to
please, or worse reasons, to promise to have work done at a par-
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fcicular time, when they are not sure of their ability to do so or
know positively that they are not able.
2. Many persons also, either from heedlessness or design, saj
what they think will create surprise, without supposing that
they are doing any harm. Perhaps there is some truth in what
they say, but it is so much magnified or exaggerated, with the
view of exciting wonder, that it has the character and effect of
falsehood. Such people are in the habit of using the words
" vast, immense, grand, splendid, magnificent, superb, tremen¬
dous," and others of that nature, when words of a more simple
meaning should be employed.
3. " Father," said a boy, one day, " I saw an immense number
of dogs — five hundred, I am sure — in our street, last night."
— "Surely not so many?" said his father. — "Well, there
were one hundred, I'm quite sure."— " It could not be," said the
father; " I don't think there are a hundred dogs in the village."
— " Well, sir, it could not be less than ten : this I am quite cer¬
tain of." — "I will not believe you saw even ten," said the
father; " for you spoke as confidently of seeing five hundred as
of seeing this smaller number. You have contradicted yourself
twice already, and now I cannot believe you." — "Well, sir,''
said the disconcerted boy, " I saw at least our Dash and another
one."
4. This is an example of erroneous reporting through eager¬
ness to make out a wonderful case, For the same reason, an
uneducated man, who had been in the West Indies, hearing some
one speak of the sun rising at midsummer about four in the
morning, said, " O, that is nothing to what he does in Jamaica,
I have seen him rise there between two and three." This man
did not know that that was impossible, and that we must go
towards the poles, and not towards the tropics, in order to see
the sun rise very early.
5. It is common, too, to hear people say that they have not
been so warm all their lives ; that some one's gown is the pret¬
tiest they ever saw; or that they never were so happy as at
Mrs. Smith's party; when it is obvious that they are alleging
what it is utterly impossible for them to be quite sure of,
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A little real respect for truth, and desire to follow it at all times,
aided by a little reflection on the meaning of the words we are
about to utter, would save us from falsehoods of this kind.
6. There is yet another species of falsehood, which consists hi
saying one thing but meaning another; this ought to be at all
times avoided, the same as positive lying. Persons who resort
to this mean practice think that, because they do not lie in the
words which they use, they do not commit any actual sin or
crime. But this is a mere delusion. The lie is committed by
the attempt to convey a false or wrong meaning, for the purpose
of misleading; and such a mode of speaking is therefore both
deceitful and sinful.
7. In the whole business of the world, truth is of great im¬
portance. We should not only observe it in everything relating
:o ourselves and our neighbors, but we should seek to ascertain
it, and hold fast by it, in all things. If we study history, we
should endeavor to get the books of best authority. If we cul¬
tivate science, we should make sure that we receive nothing
which is not satisfactorily proved. Nothing but good testimony
can prove the truth of an event; and nothing but experiment,
and a careful observation of facta, can prove the truth of any¬
thing in science.
8. We should allow no opinion to rest in our minds unless we
are certain, and have taken pains to make ourselves conscien¬
tiously certain, that it is right, and not founded in error. Every
wrong opinion, or supposition of what is false, tends to do harm
in the world; while everything we know for truth, and every
opinion and sentiment that we know to be rightly founded, tends
to the good of mankind. Chambers.
LXXIII. — SHORT POETICAL EXTRACTS.
1. Time not to be Recalled.
Mare that swift arrow, how it cuts the air, —
How it out-runs the following eye!
Use all persuasions now, and try
If thou canst call it back, or stay it there.
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That way it went, but thou shalt find
No track is left behind.'
Fool! 't is thy life, and the fond archer thou!
Of all the time thou 'st shot away
I '11 bid thee fetch but yesterday,
And it shall be too hard a task to do.
Besides repentance, what canst find
That it hath left behind ?
2. Reasons for Humility. — Beattze.
One part, one little part, we dimly scan,
Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream.,
Yet dare arraign®1 the whole stupendous plan,
If but that little part incon'gruous®1 seem;
Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem.
Oft from appar'ent ill our blessings rise :
0 ! then renounce that impious self-esteem
That aims to trace the secrets of the skies;
For thou art but of dust, — be humble and be wise.
3. The Penalty of Eminence. — Byron.
• He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow:
He who surpasses or subdwes mankind
Must look down on the hate of those below.
Though high above the sun of glory glow,
And far benea^/i the earth and ocean spread,
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow
Contending tempests on his naked head,
And thus reward the toils that to those summits led.
4. Benevolence. — Beattie.
From the low prayer of Want and plaint of Woe,
0 never, never turn away thine ear!
Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,
Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear!
To others do (the law is not severe,)
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What to thyself thou wishest to be done j
Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,
And friends and native land; — nor these alone;
All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own.
5. Solitude. — Byron.
There is a pleasurejn the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its ro.v •
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What 1 can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
6 Humble and Unnoticed Virtue.—Hannah More.
0 my son!
The ostentatious virtues which still press
For notice and for praise; the brilliant deeds
Which live but in the eye of observation —
These have their meed®1 at once; but there's a joy
To the fond votaries of fame unknown, —
To hear the still small voice of conscience speak
In whispering plaudit to the silent soul.
Heaven notes the sigh afflicted goodness heaves,
Hears the low plaint by human ear unheard,
And from the cheek of patient Sorrow wipes
The tear, by mortal eye unseen, or scorned.
7. Farewell. — Barton.
Nay, shrink not from the word " Farewell,"
As if't were friendship's final knell!
Such fears may prove but vain ;
So changeful is life's fleeting day,
Where'er we sever, Hope may say
We part to meet again !
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Even the last parting earth can know
Brings not unutterable woe
To souls that heavenward soar;
For humble®1 faith, with steadfast eye,
Points to a brighter world on high,
Where hearts, that here at parting sigh.
May meet — to pant no more !
LXXIV. — HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.
mr. h. steward.
Mr. H. Ha ! Steward, how are you, my old boy ? How do
things go on at home ?
Steward. Bad enough, your honor, the magpie's dead.
Mr. H. Poor Mag! so he's gone. How came he to die ?
Stew. Over-ate himself, sir.
Mr. H. Did he, indeed ? a greedy villain ! Why, what did he
get he liked so well ?
Stew. Horse-flesh, sir ; he died of eating horse-flesh.
Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh ?
Stew. All your father's horses, sir. (
Mr. H. What! are they dead, too ?
Stew. Ay, sir ; they died of over-work.
Mr. II. And why were they over-worked, pray ?
Stew. To carry water, sir.
Mr H. To carry water ! and what were they carrying water
for?
Stew. Sure, si? to put out the fire.
Mr. H. Fire ! vhat fire ?
Steio. 0, sir, your father's house is burned down to the
ground.
Mr. H. My father's house burned down! and how came it
get on fire ?
Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
Mr. H. Torches ! what torches ?
Steiv. At your mother's fuperal.
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Mr. II. Alas ! my mother dead ?
Stew. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it!
Mr. II. After what ?
Stew. The loss of your father.
Mr. H. My father gone, too ?
Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he
heard of it.
Mr. H. Heard of what ?
Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your honor.
Mr. H. What! more miseries ? more bad news ? No! you
can add nothing more !
Stew. Yes, sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is lost
and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir,
to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to
hear the news. Anonymous.
LXXV.—THE DESTINY OF MAN.
1. The solicitudes, the afflictions, the aspirations of this life,
are a proof that Man, less contented here than the brute, has
another destiny. If our end were here, if we had nothing after
this life to expect, — if here were our country, our final home, and
the only scene of our felicity, — why does not our present lot fill
the measure of our happiness and our hopes ?
2. If we are born only for the pleasures of the senses, why do
not these pleasures suffice ? Why do they always leave such a
void of weariness and dejection in the heart? If man have no
higher destiny than that of the beast, why should not his exist¬
ence, like the beasf's, flow on without a care, without «an inqui-.
etude, without a disgust, in the felicity of the senses and of the
flesh ?
3. If man may hope for a temporal181 happiness only, why
docs he find it nowhere, permanently, on the earth ? Whence
comes it that riches only bring disquiet; that. honors speedily
lose, their charm ; that pleasures fatigue ; and that knowledge
confounds him, and, far from satisfying, piques®1 his curiosity 1
Whence is it that all these things collectively cannot fill the 5m«
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207
mensity of his desires, but still leave him something to long
for?
4. All other creatures seem happy, after their nature, in their
situation.' The beasts of the field ruminate®1 without envying the
destiny of man, who inhabits cities and sumptuous palaces. The
birds rejoice amid the branches and in the air, without thinking
if there are creatures better off than they on the earth.
5. Throughout the domain of nature all are happy, all in their
element, save only man; and he, in his best estate, is a stranger
to absolute content; he only is a prey to his desires, is the sport
of his anxieties, finds his punishment in his hopes, becomes sad
and wearied in the midst of his pleasures, and finds nothing here
below on which his heart can steadily repose.
Massillon
LXXVI. — CONQUERING WITH KINUNESS.
1. I once had a neighbor—a clever®1 man—who came to me,
one day, and said, " Esquire White, I want you to come and get
your geese away." —" Why," said I, " what are my geese
doing ? " — " They pick my pigs' ears when they are eating, and
drive them away ; and I will not have it." — " What can I do ? "
said I. — "You must yoke them." — " That I have not time to
do now," said I. " I do not see but they must run." — " If you
do not take care of them, I shall," said the shoemaker, in anger.
" What do you say, Esquire White ?"— " I cannot take care of
them now, but will pay you for all damages." — " Well," said
he, " you will find that a hard thing, I guess."
2. So off he went, and I heard a terrible squalling among the
geese. The next news was, that three of them were missing.
My children went, and found them terribly mangled, and dead,
and thrown into the bushes. " Now." said I, " all keep still, and
.et me punish him." In a few days, the shoemaker's hogs broke
into my corn. I saw them, but let them remain a long time. At
last I drove them all out, and picked up the corn which they
had torn down, and fed them with it in the road. By this
time the shoemaker came up, in great haste, after thsm.
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3. " Have you seen anything of iny hogs ?" said he. — " Yes,
sir, you will find them yonder, eating some dorn which they tore
down in my field." — " In your field ? " — " Yes, sir," said I
" hogs love corn, you know, — they were made to eat." — " How
much mischief have they done ? " — " O, not much," said I. —
Well, off he went to look, and estimated the damage to be equal
to a bushel and a half of corn. " 0, no," said I, " it can't be."
— " Yes," said the shoemaker, " and I will pay you every cent
of the damage." — "No," replied I, "you shall pay me nothing
My geese have been a great trouble to you."
4. The shoemaker blushed, and went home. The next winter,
when we came to settle, the shoemaker determined to pay me
for my corn. " No," said I, " I shall take nothing." After
some talk, we parted; but in a few days I met him on the road,
and we fell into conversation in the most friendly manner. But
when I started on he seemed loth to move, and I paused. For
a moment both of us were silent. At last he said, " I have
something laboring on my mind."—" Well, what is it?" —
" Those geese. I killed three of your geese, and I shall never
rest until you know how I feel. I am sorry." And the tears
came into his eyes.
5. " 0 well," said I, "never mind; I suppose my geese were
provoking." I never took anything of him for it; but when
my cattle broke into his fields, after this, he seemed glad, be¬
cause he could show how patient he could be. " Now," said
I to my children, " conquer yourselves, and you can conquer with
kindness where you can conquer in no other way." Anon.
LXXVII,—HORATIUS OFFERS TO DEFEND THE BRIDGE.
1. Then outspake brave Horatius,®1 the captain of the gate :
" To every man upon the 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 ?
2. " 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 strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three ;
Now, who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me? '
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B Then outspake Spurius Lartius ; a Ramnian bold was he:
"Lo I I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."
And outspake strong Herminius ; of Titian blood was he :
" I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee "
4. " 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 quarrels spared neither land nor gold,
^or son nor wife, nor limb nor life, in the brave days of old.
Macaulav
LXXVIII. — GOOD ADVICE.
1. Ye who would save your features florid,
Lithe limbs, bright eyes, unwrinkled forehead,
From age's devastation horrid,
Adopt this plan; —
'T will make, in climate cold or torrid,
A hale old man.
2. Avoid in youth luxurious diet;
Restrain the passions' lawless riot;
Devoted to domestic quiet,
Be wisely gay;
So shall ye, spite of age's fiat,Er
Resist decay.
3. Seek not in Mammon's®1 worship pleasure,
But find a far superior treasure
In books, friends, music, polished leisure :
The mind, not sense,
Make the sole scale by which ye measure
Your opulence.
4. This is the solace, this the science, —
With trust in God, life's best appliance,—
That disappoints not man's reliance,
Whate'er his state;
But challenges, with calm defiance,
Time, fortune, fate.
H. Smith
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LXXIX. —■ ALL HIS WORKS PRAISE HIM.
1. In that beautiful part of Germany which borders on the
Rhine, there is a noble estate, as you travel on the western bank
of the river, which you may see lifting its ancient towers on the
opposite side, above the grove of trees about as old as itself.
2. About forty years ago, there lived in that castle a noble
gentleman, whom we shall call Baron Mansberg. He had only
one son, who was not only a comfort to his father, but a blessing
to all who lived on his father's land.
3. It happened, on a certain occasion, that, this young man
being from home, there came a French gentleman to the castle,
who was a flippant, shallow assailant of that faith in Deity
which all good men entertain. He began talking of sacred
things in terms that chilled the old baron's blood; on which the
baron reproved him, saying, "Are you not afraid of offending
God, who reigns above, by speaking in such a manner ? "
4. The gentleman (if gentleman we ought to call him) said
he knew nothing about God, for he had never seen him. The
baron this time did not notice what the gentleman said; but the
next morning he conducted him about his castle grounds, and
took occasion first to show him a very beautiful picture that
hung on the wall. The gentleman admired the picture very
much, and said, " Whoever drew this picture knows very well
how to use the pencil."
5. " My son drew that picture," said the baron.—" Then
your son is a clever®1 man," replied the gentleman. The baron
then went with his visitor into the garden, and showed him many
beautiful flowers, and plantations of forest trees. " Who has
the ordering of this garden ? " asked the gentleman. — " My
son," replied the baron; " he knows every plant, I may say
from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop®1 on the wall." — " In¬
deed !" said the gentleman ; " I shall think very highly of him,
soon."
6. The bar on then took him into the village, and showed him
a small, neat cottage, where his son had established a school
and where he ?aused all young children who had lost their par -
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ents to be received and nourished at his own expense. The
children in the house looked so innocent, and so happy, that the
gentleman was very much pleased, and when he returned to the
castle he said to the baron, " What a happy man you are, to
have so good a son ! "
7. " How do you know I have so good a son ? " — " Because I
have seen his works; and I know that he must be good and
clever, if he has done all that you have shown me:' — "But
you have not seen him.' —" No, but I know him very well,
because I judge of him by his works."
8. " True," replied the baron; " and in this way I judge of
the character of our Heavenly Father. I know, by his works,
that he is a being of infinite wisdom, and power, and goodness."
The Frenchman felt the force of the reproof, and was careful
not to offend the good baron any more by his remarks.
From, the German.
LXXX. PETER THE GREAT AND THE DESERTER.
The following scene is founded on an incident in the life of Peter the
Great, CzarEi of Russia,ei who in 1697 went to Holland to learn the art of
ship-building. He assumed the disguise and name of a common workman,
was employed in the ship-yards at Saardam, and received wages like a com¬
mon ship-carpenter.
Peter. (Disguised as a carpenter.) Well, before I quit this
place, I may let you into my secret.
Stanmitz. And do you think of leaving us ?
Pet. I have now been absent from my native country a
twelvemonth. I have acquired some knowledge of ship-build¬
ing,— the object for which I came here, — and it is time 1
should return home.
Sta. Our master, Yon Block, will be sorry to lose you, be¬
cause you are the most industrious fellow; in the yard; and I
shall be sorry, because — because, Peter, I like you.
Pet. And I don't dislike you.
Sta. Peter, I think I may venture to tell you a secret.
Pet. Why, surely you have done nothing to be ashamed of?
Sta. No, not ashamed; but I'm considerably afraid. Know,
then, that T was born at Moscow,
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Pet. Well, there is no crime in being born at Moscow,
besides, that was no fault of yours.
Sta. That's not it. Listen ! It happened, one day, that a
party of soldiers halted near my mother's hut; the commanding
officer presently cast an eye at me, and was so amazingly taken
with my appearance, that he requested I'd make one of his
company. I was about to decline; but he assured me that the
Czar®1 Peter (our namesake, you know), having particular occa¬
sion for my services, would take it as an offence if I refused the
invitation ; so he forthwith" clapped a musket on my shoulder,
and marched me off.
Pet. Ay,48 you were enlisted.
Sta. Enlisted ! why, I can't say but I was. Now, I was always
an independent sort of fellow, fond of my own way, and could n't
stomach being ordered about against my inclination.
Pet. (Aside.EI) So, so ! This fellow is a deserter!
Sta. I put up with it a long while, though; till, one bitter
cold morning in December, just at three o'clock, I was roused
from my comfortable, warm sleep, to turn out and mount guard
on the bleak, blustering corner of a rampart," in the snow. It
was too bad, was n't it ?
Pet. I don't doubt, you would rather have been warm in
bed.
Sta. Well, as I could n't keep myself warm, I laid down my
musket and began to walk; then I began to run, and — will
you believe it ? — I did n't stop running till I found myself five
leagues away from the outposts !
Pet. So, then, you are a deserter !
Sta. A deserter! You call that being a deserter, do you?
Well, putting this and that together, I should n't wonder if I
were a deserter.
Pet. Do you know, my dear fellow, that if you are discov¬
ered you will be shot ?
Sta. I've some such idea. Indeed, it occurred to me at the
time; so, thinking it hardly worth while to be shot for being so
short a distance, as only five leagues away from my post, I made
the best of my way to Saardam; and here I am.
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Pet. This is an awkward affair, inlecd, and if the burgo-
masterw were informed of it however, be assured your
secret is safe ji my keeping.
Sta. I don't doubt you, for I suspect you 're in a similar
scrape yourself.
Pel. I ? — Ridiculous'
Sta. There's something very mysterious about you, at any
rate. But, I say — you will keep my secret J
Pet. O ! trust me for that.
Sta. Because, if it should get to the ears of any of the agents
of the Czar, I should be in rather a bad fix, you know.
Pet. The Czar shall know no more about it than he does
now, if I can help it; so don't be afraid. He himself, they say,
is rather fond of walking away from his post.
Sta. Ha, ha ! Is he ? Then he has no business to complain
of me for running away, — eh ?
Pet. You must look out for him, though. They say he has a
way of finding out everything. Don't be too sure of your
secret.
Sta. Come, now; he's in Russia," and I'm in Holland; and
I don't see where's the danger, unless you mean to blab.
Pet. Eellow-workman, do you take me for a traitor ?
Sta. Not so, Peter; but, if I am ever taken up here as a
deserter, you will have been the only one to whom I have told
my secret.
Pet. A fig for the Czar !
Sta. Don't say that — he's a good fellow, is Peter the Czar;
and you '11 have to fight me if you say a word in his dispraise.
Pet. 0! if that's the case, I '11 say no more.
Anon.
LXXXI. — SCENERY OF THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.
1. It has been the fashion, with travellers, to talk of the
scenery of the Mississippi as wanting grandeur®1 and beauty.
Most certainly, it has neither. But there is no scenery on earth
more striking. The dreary and pestilential solitudes, untrod-
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den, save by the foot of the Indian jw the absence of all living
objects, save the huge alligators, which float past, apparently
asleep, on the drift-wood, and an occasional vulture, attracted
by its impure prey on the surface of the waters; the trees, with
a long and hideous drapery of pendent®1 moss, fluttering in the
wind ; and the giant river, rolling onward the vast volume of its
dark and turbid waters through the wilderness, form the features
Df one of the most dismal and impressive landscapes on which
the eye of man ever rested.
2. Rocks and mountains would add nothing of sublimity to
the Mississippi. Pelion®1 might be piled on Ossa, Alps on
Andes, and still, to the heart and perceptions of the spectator,
the Mississippi would be alone. It can brook no rival, and it
finds none. No river in the world drains so large a portion of
the earth's surface. It is the traveller of five thousand miles,
more than two thirds of the diam'eter of the globe. The imag¬
ination asks, whence come its waters, and whither tend they ?
They come from the distant regions of a vast continent, where
the foot of civilized man has hardly yet been planted. They flow
into an ocean yet vaster, the whole body of which acknowledges
their influence.
3. Through what varieties of climate have they passed ? On
what scenes of lonely and sublime magnificence have they gazed !
In short, when the traveller has asked and answered these
questions, and a thousand others, it will be time enough to con¬
sider how far the scenery of the lower Mississippi would be
improved by the presence of rocks and mountains. He may
then be led to doubt whether any great effect can be produced
oy a combination of objects of discordant character, however
grand in themselves.
4. The prevailing character of the Mississippi io that of
solemn gloom. I have trodden the passes of Alp and Apennine,
yet never felt how awful a thing is nature, till I was borne on
its waters, through regions desolate and uninhabitable. Day
after day, and night after night, we continued driving right
downward to the south; our vessel, like some huge demon of
the wilderness, bearing fire in her bosom, ard canopying the
eternal forest with the smoke of her nostrils.
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213
5. The navigation of the Mississippi is not unaccompanied
by danger, arising from what are called planters and sawyers
These are trees firmly fixed in the bottom of the river, by which
vessels are in danger of being impaled.®1 The distinction is, that
the former stand upright in the water, the latter lie with their
points directed down the stream.
6. The bends or flexures of the Mississippi are regular in a
degree unknown in any other river. It often happens that the
isthmus®1 which divides different portions of the river gives way.
A few months before my visit to the south, a remarkable case of
this kind had happened, by which forty miles of navigation had
been saved. The opening thus formed was called the new cut.
Even the annual changes which take place in the bed of the
Mississippi are very remarkable. Islands spring up and disap¬
pear ; shoals suddenly present themselves, where pilots have
been accustomed to deep water; in many places, whole acres are
swept away from one bank and added to the other; and the
pilot assured me that in every voyage he could perceive fresh
changes.
7- Many circumstances contribute to render these changes
more rapid in the Mississippi than in any other river. Among
these, perhaps the greatest is the vast volume of its waters,
acting on alluvial11 matter, peculiarly penetrable. The river,
when in flood, spreads over the neighboring country, in which it
has formed channels, called bayous.™ The banks thus become so
saturated with water, that they can oppose little resistance to
the action of the current, which frequently sweeps off large
portions of the forest.
8. The immense quantity of drift-wood is another cause of
change. Floating logs encounter some obstacles in the river,
and become stationary. The mass gradually accumulates; the
water, saturated with mud, deposits a sediment; and thus an
island is formed, which soon becomes covered with vegetation.
About ten years ago, the Mississippi was surveyed by order of
the government; and its islands, from the confluence®1 of the
Missouri to the sea, were numbered. I remember asking the
pilot the name of a very beautiful island, and the answer was,
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five-hundred-and-seventy-three, the number assigned to it in the
hydrographicalKI survey,88 and the only name by which it was
known.
9. One of the most striking circumstances connected with
this river-voyage was the rapid change of climate. Barely ten
days had elapsed since I was traversing mountains almost im¬
passable from snow. Even the level country was partially
covered with it, and the approach of spring had not been heralded
by any symptom of vegetation. Yet, in a little more than a
week, I found myself in the region of the sugar-canes.
10. The progress of this transition was remarkable. During
the first two days of the voyage, nothing like a blossom or a
green leaf was to be seen. On the third, slight signs of vegeta¬
tion were visible on a few of the ha,rdier trees. After passing
Memphis, all nature became alive. The trees which grew on
any little eminence, or which did not spring immediately from
the swamp, were covered with foliage; and, at our wooding-
times, when I rambled through the woods there were a thousand
shrubs already bursting into flower. On reaching the lower
regions of the Mississippi, all was brightness and verdure.
Summer had already begun, and the heat was even disagreeably
intense. Col. Hamilton.
LXXXII. — REMARKABLE STORY OE AN ALBATROSS.
1. The al'batross is a web-footed bird of large size, that fre¬
quents88 the Southern Ocean, and is seen in the neighborhood of
Cape Horn. It often weighs upwards of twenty pounds, and
ordinarily measures from ten to eleven feet (sometimes even
more) in its extent of wing. It varies in color according to age
and season; but is generally more or less tinged with gray
above, the rest of the plumage being white.
2. At sea, its vast extent of wing, its graceful evolutions, its
power, displayed even in the tempest, when the wind lashes the
waves into foam, have elicited the highest admiration from
voyagers. Now, high in the air, it sweeps in wide circles, —
anonEI it descends with the utmost impetuosity, plunges into the
water, and, instantly rising, soars aloft with itts finny prey.
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3. It harass'es the flying-fish which the bonl'to®1 or the al'bi-
coreBI is chasing, or sails round the vessel and picks up the offal
thrown overboard. It rises and descends as if some concealed
power guided its motions, without any apparent exertion of
muscular energy; and it breasts the gale, or mounts high above
the stormy vapors, with prodigious power, and a lordly ease.
4. A remarkable but well-attested story was recently commu¬
nicated by an officer of the 83d British regiment in India to
a friend in Montreal. While the division to which the officer
belonged was on its way to India, being at the time a short
distance eastward of "Cape Horn, one of the men was severely
flogged for some slight offence. Maddened at the punishment
the poor fellow was no sooner released than, in the sight of a 11
his comrades®1 and the ship's crew, he sprang overboard.
5. There was a high sea running at the time, and, as the man
swept on astern, all hope of saving him seemed to vanish. He
struggled with the waves, as if the desire for life had overcome
his sudden frenzy, the moment he found himself in the water.
His case seemed desperate; he shrieked for succor. There
seemed no possibility of saving him; when all at once an alba¬
tross was seen to poise himself over the spot where the soldier
was struggling amid the boiling waves, and then to make a bold,
smooth swoop towards him, with an almost imperceptible
motion.
6. What was the amazement of the crowd of spectators on
deck at discovering that the drowning soldier had caught hold
of the bird! He kept his hold firmly, and the power of the bird
was sufficient to sustain him afloat until a boat from the vessel
was lowered and rowed to his rescue. But for the assistance
thus afforded by the bird, no power on earth could have saved
the soldier, as, in consequence of the tremendous sea running,
a long time elapsed before the boat could be manned and got
down; and all this time the man was clinging to the albatross,
whose flutterings and struggles to escape bore him up.
7. Who after this should despair ? A raging sea — a drown¬
ing man — an albatross; what eye could see safety under such
circumstances?—or, can we venture to call this chance? Is it not
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218
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rather a lesson intended to stimulate Faith and Hope, and teach
us never to despair; since in the darkest moment, when the waves
dash and the winds roar, and a gulf seems closing over our heads,
there may be an albatross near.
LXXXIII.— THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST CLESAR.
portia lucius — soothsayer.®1
Portia. I prythee,®1 boy, run to the senate-house ;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:
Why dost thou stay ?
Lucius. To know my errand, madam.
Por. I would have had thee there, and here again,
Ere®11 can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. —
0 constancy, be strong upon my side!
Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue !
1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
How hard it is for women to keep counsel! —
Art thou here yet ?
Luc. Madam, what should I do 7
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else ?
And so return to you, and nothing else ?
Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
For he went sickly forth. And take good note
What Caesar doth, wh'at suitors press to him.
Hark, boy ! what noise is that ?
Luc. I hear none, madam.
Por. Prythee, listen well;
1 heard a bustling rumor, like a fray,
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Por. {To a Soothsayer.) Come hither, fellow:
Which way hast thou been ?
Soothsayer. - At mine own house, good ady.
Por. What is't o'clock ?
Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady.
Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol ?
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218
Sooth. Madam, not yet; I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
Por, Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not ?
Sooth. That I have, lady; if it will please Caesar
To be so good to Caesar as to hear me,
I shall beseech him to befriend himself.
Por. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him 7
Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.
Good-morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:
The throng that follows Caesar at the heels,
Of senators, of praetors,®1 common suitors,
Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:
[ '11 get me td a place more void, and there
Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. [Exit.
Por. I must go in. — Ah me! how weak a thing
The heart of woman is! 0, Brutus!
The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise !
Sure, the. boy heard me: — Brutus hath a suit.
That Caesar will not grant. — 0 ! I grow faint.
Bun, Lucius, and commend me to my lord:
Say, I am merry; come to me again,
And bring me word what he doth say to thee. [Exeunt.
Shakspeare
LXXXIV.—THE INFINITUDE OF CREATION.
1. If we extend our views from the solar system to the starry
heavens, we have to penetrate, in our imagination, a space which
the swiftest ball that was ever projected, though in perpetual
motion, would not traverse in ten hundred thousand years. In
those trackless regions of immensity we behold an assemblage
of resplendent globes, similar to the sun in size and in glory, and
doubtless accompanied with a retinue of worlds, revolving, like
our own, around their attractive influence.
2. The immense distance at which the nearest stars are known
to be placed proves that they are bodies of a prodigious size,
not inferior to our own sun; and that they shine, not by reflected
rays, but by their own native light. But bodies encircled with
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such refulgent splendor would be of little use in the economy of
Jehovah's empire, unless surrounding worlds were cheered by
their benign influence. Every star is therefore concluded to be
a sun, no less spacious than ours, surrounded by a host of plan¬
etary globes, which revolve around it as a centre, and derive
from it light, and heat, and comfort.
3. Nearly a thousand of these luminaries may be seen in a
clear winter night by the naked eye; so that a mass of matter
equal to a thousand solar systems, or to thirteen hundred and
twenty millions of globes of the size of the earth, may be per¬
ceived, by every common observer, in the canopy of heaven.
.But all the celestial orbs which are perceived by the unassisted
sight do not form the eighty-thousandth part of those which
may be descried by the help of optical®1 instruments.
4. Br. Herschel has informed us that, when exploring the
most crowded parts of the milky-way, with his best glasses, he
has had fields of view which contained no less than five hundred
and eighty-eight stars, and these, too, continued for many min¬
utes ; so that " in one quarter of an hour's time there passed
no less than one hundred and sixteen thousand stars through the
field of view of his telescope."
5. It has been computed that nearly one hundred millions of
stars might be perceived by the most perfect instruments, were
all the regions of the sky thoroughly explored. And yet all
this vast assemblage of suns and worlds, when compared with'
what lies beyond the utmost boundaries of human vision, in the
immeasurable spaces of creation, may be no more than the
smallest particle of vapor to the immense ocean.
6. Here, then, with reverence, let us pause and wonder ! Over
all this vast assemblage of material existence God presides.
Amidst the diversified objects and intelligences it contains, he is
eternally and essentially present. At his Almighty fiatEI it
emerged from nothing into existence; and by his unerring wis¬
dom all its complicated movements are perpetually directed.
Surely that man is little to be envied who is not impressed, b^
such contemplations, with a venerable and overwhelming sense
£>f Creative Power. Dick.
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221
LXXXV. — THE INVENTION OF PRINTING.
john gutenberg*1 — rupert, an usurer.
Rupert. Friend John, what's wanted now ? Ah! I can guess ;
T is the old story — money!
John. Master Rupert,
I bring you good security.
Rup. What's this ?
A family ring — solid, and set with diamonds .
John. Let me have fifty flor'ins on the pledge.
Rup. That's twenty more than I can well afford —
But you shall have the money.
John. Recollect,
I shall redeem the ring.
Rup. When, John ?
John. As soon
As I have per'fected my great invention.
Rup. Ah! John, that great invention, much I fear,
Will come to naught. Take to some honest trade —
Leave dreaming o'er thy scheme of movable types
For multiplying copies of a book.
Should'st thou succeed, the copyists who now
Derive their living from their manuscripts
Will persecute thee—make it out (who knows?)
That thou hast dealt in magic.
John. Let them murmur!
Think, Master Rupert, of the good locked up
In this invention. Look upon this book :
It is the- book of books, the Bible. Know'st thou
How long it takes a writer to complete
A copy such as this?
Rup. A year, perhaps.
John. As long as that. Now, by this plan of mine,
After the types are set, ten thousand copies
Might be struck off, and by a single man,
Within less time than now is given to make
A single copy.
19*
222
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Rup.
John, thy wits are wandering.
Thou 'rt but a dreamer.
John.
I can make it plain
To any mechanician, what I say
Is but the sober truth. Ay, Master Kupert,
The day will come when this same book, which now
Few men are rich enough to own, will be
So multiplied and cheap, that every peasant
Can own it, il he chooses.
Rup. John, go home;
Tell thy good wife to put thee straight to bed.
And send for a physician. I shall hear
Of a brain fever next..
John. The day will come.
I may not live to see it: — after years
Of penury and struggle, I may fall
Into the grave unnoticed — but the spark,
Kindled by me, shall grow to be a light
Unto the nations ; — and religion, freedom,
Science and education, all shall date
An epoch* from the day when here, in Mentz,
I, poor John Gutenberg, the small mechanic,
Produced my movable types, but could not win,
From rich or learned, words of cheer or help.
Rup. 'T is for posterity thou 'rt laboring, then !
Now, listen to a word of common sense :
Posterity will nothing do for thee.
Posterity will put upon thy back
No coat to shield thee from the winter's cold.
Posterity will give no single meal,
Though thou wert starving. Why shouldst thou, then,
Labor for such an ingrate as this same
Yain, unrequiting herd — posterity?
John. The noble giver finds his solace in
The act of giving — in the consciousness,
* See Exercises under the twenty-ninth elementary sound, page 41
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
223
He has conferred upon his fellow-men
A certain blessing : — should requital come,
'T will be, like all good things, acceptable; —
But not for that — not even for gratitude,
Did he confer his boon: and so he quails not,
Should disappointment and'ingratitude
Pursue him to the grave.
Rup. John, thou'rt a riddle.
Where, then, is thy reward for all thy pains 7
John. My friend, the little good that we can do,
In our short so'journ here, will not alone
Shed comfort on this transitory life
But be (such is my faith) a joy hereafter !
Osborne
LXXXVI. — THE BIRD-CATCHER.
A little boy was once told he could catch a bird by dropping salt on its
.Ail. The following lines were written on seeing him try the experiment.
1. Gently, gently, yet, young stranger,
Light of heart and light of heel!
Ere the bird perceives its danger,
On it slyly steal.
Silence ! — ah ! your scheme is failing —
No : pursue your pretty prey;
See, your shadow on the paling
Startles it away.
2. Caution! now you 're nearer creeping,
Nearer yet — how still it seems!
Sure, the winged creature's sleeping,
Wrapt in forest-dreams !
Golden sights that bird is seeing —
Nest of green, or mossy bough;
Not a thought it hath of fleeing j
Yes, you '11 catch it now.
3. How your eyes begin to twinkle 1
Silence, and you '11 scarcely fail,
224
the standard fourth reader
Now stoop down and softly sprinkle
Salt upon its tail.
Yes, you have it in your tether,
Never more to skim the skies;
Lodge the salt on that long feather —
Ha ! it flies ! it flies.!
4. Hear it — hark! among the bushes,
Laughing at your idle lures !
Boy, the self-same feeling gushes
Through my heart and yours.
Baffled sportsman, childish Mentor,®
How have I been — hapless fault! —
Led, like you, my hopes to centre
On a grain of salt!
5. On what captures I've been counting,
Stooping here, and creeping there,
All to see my bright hope mounting
High into the air !
Thus have children of all ages,
Seeing bliss before them fly,
Found their hearts but empty cages,
And their hopes — on high !
Laman Blanckard.
LXXXVII.—THE MAN IN THE BELL.
1. In my younger days, bell-ringing was much more in fash¬
ion among the young men than it is now. Some fifty years
ago, about twenty of u3, who dwelt in the vicinity of the ca-the'-
dral,w formed a club which used to ring every peal that was
called for. But my bell-ringing practice was shortened by a
singular accident, which not only stopped my performance, but
made even the sound of a bell terrible to my ears.
2. One Sunday I went with another into the belfry to ring
for noon prayers, but the second stroke we had pulled showed us
that the clapper of the bell we were at was muffled. The rem¬
edy was easy. "Jack," said my companion, "step up to the
THE STANP4RD FOURTH READER.
225
loft, and cut off the hatfor the way we had of muffhng was
by tying a piece of an old hat, or of cloth (the former was pre*
ferred), to one side of the clapper, which deadened every second
toll.
3. I complied, and, mounting into the belfry, crept as usual
into the bell, where I. began to cut away. The hat had been
tied on in some more complicated manner than usual, and I was
perhaps three or four minutes in getting it off; during which
time my companion below was hastily called away and his place
supplied by a brother of the club, who, knowing that the time
had come for ringing for service, and not thinking that any one
was above, began to pull.
4. At this moment I was just getting out, when I fblt the bell
moving; I guessed the reason at once — it was a moment of
terror; but, by a hasty and almost convulsive effort, I succeeded
in jumping down, and throwing myself on the flat of my back
under the bell. The room in which it hung was little more
than sufficient to contain it, the bottom of the bell coming within
a couple of feet of the floor of lath. As I lay it was within an
inch of my face. I had not laid myself down a second when the
ringing began. It was a dreadful situation.
5. Over me swung an immense mass of metal, one touch of
which would have crushed me to pieces; the floor under me was
principally composed of crazy laths, and if they gave way 1
should be precipitated to the distance of about fifty feet upon
a loft, which would, in all probability, have sunk under the
impulse of my fall, and sent me to be dashed to atoms upon the
marble floor of the chancel, a hundred feet below.
6. Every moment I saw the bell sweep within an inch of my
face; and my eyes — I could not close them, though to look at
the object was bitter as death — followed- it instinctively in its
os'cillating®1 prog'ress until it came back again. It was in vain
that I said to myself it could come no nearer at any futtire
swing than it did at first; every time it descended, I endeavored
to shrink into the very flocr to avoid being buried under
the down-sweeping mass • and then, reflecting on the danger of
pressing too weightily on my frail support, I would cow'er up
again as far as I dared.
226
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
7. The roaring of the bell confused my intellect, and my fancy
Boon began to teem with all sorts of Strange and terrifying ideas.
The bell pealing above, and opening its jaws with a hideous
clamor, seemed to me at one time a ravening monster, raging to
devour me; at another, a whirlpool ready to suck me into its
bellowing abyss. I often thought that I was in a hurricane at
sea, and that the vessel in which I was embarked tossed under
me with the most furious ve'hemence.
8. I trembled lest reason should utterly desert me; lest, when
utterly deprived of my senses, I should rise ; — to do which I
was every moment tempted by that strange feeling which calls
on a man whose head is dizzy from standing on the battlement
of a lofty castle to precipitate himself from it — and then death
would be instant and tremendous. When I thought of this, I
became desperate. I caught the floor wkA a grasp which drove
the blood from my nails; arid I yelled with the cry of despair.
9. I called for help, I prayed, I shouted; but all the efforts
of my voice were, of course, drowned in the bell. As it passed
over my mouth it occasionally echoed my cries, which mixed not
with its own sound, but preserved their distinct character. Per¬
haps this was but fancy. To me, I know, they then sounded as
if they were the shouting, howling, or laughing of the fiends *
with which my imagination had peopled the gloomy cave which
swung over me. . r
10. In twenty minutes the ringing was done. Half of that
time passed over me without power of computation, — the
other half appeared an age. When the bell stopped, I was
roused a little by the hope of escape. I did not, however, decide
on this step hastily, but, putting up my hand with the utmost
cautipn, I touched the rim. Though the ringing had ceased, it
was still tremulous from the sound, and shook under my hand,
which instantly recoiled as from an electric jar.
11. A quarter of an hour probably elapsed before I again
dared to make the experiment, and then I found it at rest. 1
determined to lose no time, fearing that I might have lain then
already too long, and that the bell for evening service would
* Seo the Exercises under the fifth elementary sound, page 35
■*THi STANDARD FQDRTH READER.
227
catch me. This dread stimulated me, and I slipped out with
the utmost rapidity, and arose. I stood, I suppose, for a minute,
looking with silly wonder on the place of my imprisonment, and
penetrated with joy at escaping.
12. I then rushed down the stony and irregular" stair with
the velocity of lightning, and arrived in the bell-ringer's room.
This was the last act I had power to accomplish. I leaned
against the wall, motionless and deprived of thought, in which
posture my companions found me, when, in the course of a
couple of hours, th'ey returned to their occupation.
* Blackwood,''s Magazine
LXXXVIII. —CASABIANCA.*
^ The boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled , .
The flame that lit the battle's wreck shone round him o'er the dead ,
Yet beautiful and bright he stood, as born to rule the storm, —
A creature of heroic blood, a proud though child-like form !
2. The flames rolled on — he would not go without his father's word ;
That father, faint in death below, his voice no longer heard,
ife called aloud— " Say, father, say, if yet my task is done ! "
He knew not that the chieftain lay unconscious of his son.
3 " Speak, father ! " once again he cried, " if I may yet be gone !
And —but the booming shots replied, and fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath, and in his waving hair ;
And looked from that lone post of death in still, yet brave despair!
4. He shouted yet once more aloud, " My father ! must I stay? "
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, the wreathing fires made
way.
They wrapped the ship in splendor wild, they caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child like banners in the sky.
5. Then came a bwrst of thunder sound ! — The boy — 0 ! where was he ?
Ask of the winds, that far around with fragments strewed the sea,
With mast and helm and pennon fair, that well had borne their part —
But the noblest thing that perished there was that young faithful heart.
Mrs. Hemans.
• Casabianca, a boy about thirteer years old, son to the admiral of the
Orient, remained at his post in the battle of the Nile after the ship had
taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned. He perished in the explw-
gion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.
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LXXXXX.—HASTE NOT—REST NOT.
il. " Without haste ! without rest!"
Bind the motto to thy breast!
Bear it with thee as a spell;
Storm or sunshine, guard it well
Heed not flowers that round thoe bloom, -
Bear it onward to the tomb !
2. Ilaste not — let no thoughtless deed
Mar fore'er4 the spirit's speed;
Ponder well and know the right,
Onward, then, with all thy might;
Haste not — years can ne'er atone
For one reckless action done!
8. Best not! — life is sweeping by.
Go and dare before you die;
Something mighty and sublime
Leave behind to conquer time;
Glorious't is to live for aye®1
When these forms have past away.
4. "Haste not! — rest not! " Calmly wait;
Meekly bear the storms of fate;
Duty be thy polar guide;
Do the right, whate'er betide !
Haste not! — rest not! Conflicts past,
God shall crown thy work at last!
From the German of Goethe.
XC. THE CONSUMMATE GLORY OF WASHINGTON.
1. This is the consum'mate glory of Washington : a trium*
phant warrior where the most sanguine had a right to despair;
a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a cause wholly untried
but a warrior whose sword®1 only left its sheath when the first
law of our nature commanded it to be drawn, and a ruler who.
having tasted of supreme power, gently and unostentatiously
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desired that the cup might pass from hinq nor would suffer more
to wet his lips than the most solemn and sacred duty to his
country and his God required.
2. To his latest breath did this great patriot maintain the
noble character of a captain the patron of peace, and a states
/nan the friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs
the sword which he had worn in the war for liberty, and charged
them "never to take it from the scabbard but in self-defence, or
in the defence of their country and her freedom; " and^com¬
manded that " when it should be thus drawn they should never
sheathe it nor ever give it up, but prefer falling with it in their
hands to the relinquishment thereof," — words the majesty and
simple eloquence of which are not surpassed in the oratory of
Athens and Rome.
3. It will be the duty of the historian and the sage in all ages
to let no occasion pass of commemorating this illustrious man;
and, until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress
which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be derived
from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington.
Lord Brougham.
XCI. THE RETORT.
1. One day, a rich man, flushed with pride ahd wine, —
Sitting with guests at table, all quite merry, —
Conceived it would be vastly fine
To crack a joke upon his secretary.
" Young man," said he, " by what art, craft or trade,
Did your good father earn his livelihood ? " —
" He was a saddler, sir," the young man said,
" And in his line was always reckoned good." —
* A saddler, eh ? and had you stuffed with Greek,
Instead of teaching you like him to do !
And pray, sir, why did not your father mako
A saddler, too, of you ? "
At this each flatterer, as in duty bound,
The joke applauded — and the laugh went round.
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2. At length, the secretary, bowing low,
Said (craving pardon if too free he made),
" Sir, by your leave, I fain" would know
Your father's trade." —
" My father's trade ? — Why, sir, but that's too bail;
My father's trade ! — Why, blockhead, art thou mad !
My father, sir, was never brought so low.
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." —-
" Indeed ! excuse the liberty I take,
But, if your story's true,
How happened it your father did not make
A gentleman of you ? " Anon„
XCII. — THE DREAM OF SOCRATES.
1. The day when Soc'ra-tes * was to drink the hemlock"
had come. Early in the morning his beloved disciples assem¬
bled around him; with chastened sorrow they stood about the
couch of the philosopher ; some of them were weeping. Then
the wise martyr lifted up his head, and said : " Why this mourn¬
ful silence, my beloved ? I will tell you of a cheerful thing, a
dream which I dreamed last night." — " Couldst thou sleep
and even dream of joyous things ? " said the good Apollodo'rus •
" I could not close my eyes."
2. Then Socrates smiled, and said : " What would my past
life be worth,39 if it could not even sweeten134 my last sleep?
Dost thou not think, Apollodorus, that I have devoted it to
celestial love ? " Several voices, tremulous with grateful emo¬
tion, answered this question. Apollodorus could reply only by
silence and fast-flowing tears. ^
3. " Know, then," said Socrates, " that to him who devotes
Ais life to her service she sends down the lovely Graces."
Secretly and invisibly they beautify his hours—be they hours of
joy or hours of suffering — with heavenly33 lustre," and surround
them with ambrosial11 fragrance. But, above all, the sweet
sisters are busy about him in the last hour of his life; for this
* See an account of Socrates, page 111.
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231
is the most serious of all, and hath greatest need of the heavenly
light. Thus the last hour of the day is the most beautiful; the
beams of evening brighten it like a stream of glory from
Elysium.®1
4. " I dreamed I saw a beautify youth entering my prison.
On his countenance were visible that serene gravity and calm
composure which justly befit a divine form. In his right hand
he held a burning torch, that spread a rosy lustre, like evening
light, over the darkness of my prison. The more cheering and
sweet this brightness and the aspect of the youth were to me,
the more miserable and dreary the night of my prison appeared.
5. " Slowly the divine youth lowered the torch. But me-
thought I seized his. arm, and cried : ' What wouldst thou do ?'
— He answered : ' I extinguish the torch.' —' 0, no !' implored
I; ' it spreads a sweet light through the darkness of my prison.
But he smiled and said : ' It is the torch of terrestrial life.
Thou needest it no longer; for so soon as it is extinguished
thy bodily eye will close forever, and thou wilt rise hand in
nand with me to a higher world, where a pure eternal lustre will
surround thee. How couldst thou, then, feel the want of tha
self-consuming earthly torch ? '
6. " 1 0, then turn the torch !' cried I, and awoke. I was alone
in the night of my dungeon. Alas ! I grieved that all had been
a dream. But, behold, here comes the cup which will realize
it." The jailer entered with the boy who carried the cup of
poison. The voice of weeping and lamentation arose among the
disciples of Socrates, and even the jailer wept.
From the German of Krummathet.
XCIII. — THE JUVENILE CULPRIT.
1. A culprit, from the stony prison brought,
Stands at the solemn, stern judicial bar;
A thief of many seasons, — traced and caught,
The plunder in his gripe. With mouth ajar
He strives to look untouched by evil thought,
But his eye steals around for friends afar.
the standard fourth reader.
2. "Who owns the boy ? "* No answer " Eight years old? "
" His tenth offence, sir." — " Well, what has he done ? " —
" Cut off this watch, these seals." — " He's very bold:
Where is his daily living earned, or won ? " —
" In the streets, both night and day, sir, hot or cold." -—
" Where are the poor child's par'ents ? " — " He has none."
B. None—none! Nopar'ent! Like the cuckoo's®1 young,
Cast on the lap of chance, for life, for bread;
Amongst the starved and sinful roughly flung;
By felons taught; by nightly plunder fed !
Help, angels ! who his birth-day carol sung, -
Teach him, or take him quickly to the dead !
Household Words.
XCIV.—DUTIES OP THE AMERICAN CITIZEN.
1. Let us cherish, fellow-citizens, a deep and solemn convic¬
tion of the duties which have devolved upon us. This lovely
land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the dear
purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to pre¬
serve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and generations to
come, hold us responsible for this sacred trust.
2. Our fathers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious
paternal voices; posterity calls out to us from the bosom of the
future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes — all, all con¬
jure®1 us to act wisely and faithfully in the relation which we
sustain. We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us;
but by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of
every good principle and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy
the blessing through our day, and to leave it unimpaired to our
children.
3. Let us feel deeply how much of what we are, and of what
we possess, we owe to this liberty, and these institutions of gov-
* Here is supposed to commence a conversation between the judge and the
police-officer who has brought before him the juvenile culprit. The reader
Mil imitate the supposed tones of voice of the two characters ; the one
tone being that of authoritative inquiry, the other that of deferential reply.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
233
erwment. Nature has indeed, given us a soil which yields
bounteously to the hands of industry; the mighty and fruitful
ocean is before us, ancf the skies over our heads shed health and
vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized men,
without society, without knowledge, without morals, without
religious culture 7 and how can these be enjoyed, in all their
extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise
institutions and a free government 7
4. Fellow-citizens, there is not one of us, there is not one of
us here present, who does not at this moment, and at every
moment, experience in his own condition, and in the condition
of those most near and dear to him, the influence and the benefit
of this liberty, and these institutions.
5. Let us, then, acknowledge the blessing, let us feel it deeply
and powerfully; let us cherish a strong affection for it, and
resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers
— let it not have been shed in vain ; the great hope of posterity
— let it not be blasted. Daniel TV ebster.
XCV. — THE MERRY MONARCH.
The following account of Charles the Second is a specimen of what is
called irony. The word is from the Greek, and signifies a mode of speech
in which the meaning is contrary to the words. When we say of a noto¬
riously indolent youth, " He*is wearing himself out with hard work," there
is irony in the remark. It cannot be called false, because the spirit or
intent is true, although the form is pot. Irony does not aim at deception ;
it is, however, a rather dangerous weapon. Language, as a general rule,
shouid be true in the letter, as well as the spirit.
1. There never were such profligate times in England as
under Charles the Second. TVhenever you see his portrait, with
bis swarthy, ill-looking face and great nose, you may fancy him
in his court at Whitehall, surrounded by some of the very
worst147 vagabonds in the kingdom (though they wereEI lords and
ladies), drinking, gambling, indulging in vicious conversation,
smd committing every kind of profligate excess.
2. It has been a fashion to call Charles the Second " The
Merry Monarch." Let me try to give you a general idea of
mjuic of the merry things that were done in the merry days wher
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this merry gentleman sat upon his merry throne in merry
England.32
3. The first merry proceeding was, of course, to declare that
he was one of the greatest, the wisest, and the noblest kings
that ever shone,®1 like the blessed sun itself, on this benighted
earth. The next merry and pleasant piece of business was for
the parliament,®1 in the humblest®1 manner, to give him one
million two hundred thousand pounds a year.
4. Then, General Monk being made Earl of Al-bemarle, and a
few other royalists similarly rewarded, the law went to work to
see what was to be done to those persons (they were called Reg¬
icides®1) who had been concerned in making a martyr of the late
king. Ten of these were merrily executed; that is to say, six
of the judges, one of the council, Colonel®1 Hacker and another
officer who had commanded the Guards, and Hugh Peters, a
preacher who had preached against the martyr with all his
heart.
5. These executions were so extremely merry, that every hor¬
rible circumstance which. Cromwell had abandoned was revived
with appalling cruelty. Still, even so merry a monarch could
not force one of these dying men to say that he was sorry for
what he had done. Nay, the most memorable thing said among
them was, that if the thing were to do again, they would do it.
6. Sir Harry Vane, who had furnished the evidence against
Strafford, and was one of the most staunch * of the republicans,
was also tried, found guilty, and ordered for execution. When
he came upon the scaffold on Tower Hill, after conducting his
own defence with great power, his notes of what he had meant
to say to the people were torn away from him, and the drums
Were ordered to sound lustily and drown his voice.
7. For the people had been so much impressed by what the
regicides had calmly said with their last breath, that it was the
custom now to have the drums and trumpets always under the
Bcaffold, ready to strike up. Yane said no more than this: "It
* The av of this word has the first elementary sound. Bee Exercises
page 34.
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is a bad cause which cannot bear the words of a dying man''
and bravely died.
8. These merry scenes were succeeded by another, perhaps
even merrier. On the anniversary of the late king's death, the
bodies of Oliver Cromwell, Ireton and Bradshaw, were torn out
of their graves in Westminster Abbey, dragged to Tyburn,
hanged there on a gallows all day long, and then beheaded.
9. Imagine the head of Oliver Cromwell set upon a pole to
be stared at by a brutal crowd, not one of whom would have
dared to look the living Oliver in the face for half a moment
Think, after you have read of this reign, what England was
under Oliver Cromwell, whose body was torn out of its grave,
and under this merry monarch, who sold it, like a merry Judas
over and over again. Dickens.
XCVI. — THE MODERN PUFFING SYSTEM.
from an epistle to samuel rogers, esq.
1. Unlike those feeble gales of praise
Which critics blew in former days,
Our modern puffsEI are of a kind
That truly, really, "raise the windEI;"
And since they've fairly set in blowing,
We find them the best " trade-winds " going.
2. What steam is on the deep — and more
Is the vast power of Puff on shore;
Which jumps to glory's future tenses
Before the present even commences,
And makes " immortal " and " divine " of ufl
Before the world has read one line of us.
3. In old times, when the god^ of song
Drove his own two-horse team along,
Carrying inside a-bard or two
Booked for posterity " all through," -—
* See Apollo, in the Explanatory Index.
236
the standard tourth reader
Their luggage, a few close-packed rhymes
(Like yours, my friend, for after-times),—
So slow the pull to Fame's abode,
That folks oft slumbered or the road;
And Homer's®1 self, sometimes, they say.
Took to his night-cap on the way.
4 But, now, how different is the story
With our new galloping sons of glory,
Who, scorning all such slack and slow' time
Dash to posterity in no' time!
Raise but one general blast of Puff
To start your author — that's enough.
5. In vain the critics, set to watch him,
Try at the starting-post to catch him :
He's off — the puffers carry it hollow? —
The critics, if they please, may follow.
Ere they've laid down their first positions
He's fairly blown through six editions !
6. In vain doth Edinburgh * dispense
Her blue and yellow pestilence
(That plague so awful, in my time,
To young and touchy sons of rhyme); —
The Quarterly, at three months' date,
To catch the Unread On#, comes too late;
And nonsense, littered in a hurry,
Becomes " immortal,'' spite of Murray,t
Moore.
XCVII. — THE FUTURE OP AMERICA.
1. Among the first colonists from Europe to this part of
America, there were some, doubtless, who contem'plated the
distant consequences of' their undertaking, and who saw a great
futurity; but, in general, their hopes were limited to the enjoy-
» An allusion to the Edinburgh Review, the Edinburgh edition of which
has blue covers, backed with yellow.
i Murray, the publisher of the London Quarterly Review,
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
231
ment of a safe asylum from tyranny, religious and civil, and tc
respectable subsistence by industry and toil. A thick veil hid
our times from their view.
2. But the prog'ress of America, however slow, could not but,
at length, awaken genius, and attract the attention of mankind.
In the early part of the next century, Bishop Berkeley,EI who,
it will be remembered, had resided, for some time, in Newport
in Rhode Island, wrote his well-known " Yerses on the Prospec
of Planting Arts and Learning in America."
3. The last stanza of this little poem seems to have been
produced by a high poetical inspiration :
"Westward the course of empire takes its way ;
The first four acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama51 with the day,
Time's noblest offspring is the last."
4. This extraordinary®1 prophecy may be considered only as
the result of long foresight and uncommon sagacity; of a fore¬
sight and sagacity stimulated, nevertheless, by excited feeling and
high enthusiasm. So clear a vision of what America would
become was not founded on square miles, or on existing num¬
bers, or on any vulgar laws of statistics.®1
5. It was an intuitive®1 glance into futurity; it was a grand
conception, strong, ardent, glowing; embracing all times since
the creation of the world, and all regions of which that world
is composed; and judging of the future by just analogy®1 with
the past. And the inimitable" im'age-ry and beauty with which
the thought is expressed, joined to the conception itself, render
it one of the most striking passages in our language.
6. On the day of the declaration of independence, our illus¬
trious fathers performed the first act in this drama; an act in
real importance infinitely exceeding that for which the great
English poet invoked
" A Musera of fire,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene."
7. The Muse inspiring our fathers was the genius of Liberty,
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all on fire with the sense of oppression and a resolution to throw
it off; the whole world was the stage, and higher characters than
princes trod it; and — instead of monarchs — countries, and
nations, and the age, beheld the swelling scene. How well the
characters were cast, and how well each acted his part, and what
emotions the whole performance excited, let history now and
hereafter tell. Webster.
XCVIII. — VERSES ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS
AND LEARNING IN AMERICA.
1. The Muse," disgusted at an age and clime
Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time,
Producing subjects worthy fame; —
In happy climes, where, from the genial sun
And virgin earth, such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone,
And fancied beauties by the true; —
In happy climes, the seat of innocence,
Where nature guides and virtue rules;
Where men shall not impose, for truth and sense,
The pedantry®1 of courts and schools.
t
2. There shall be sung another golden age, —
The rise of empire and of arts, —
The good and great inspiring epic®1 rage, —
The wisest heads and noblest hearts !
Not such as Europe breeds in her decay; —
Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay, —
By future poets shall be sung.
Westward the course of empire takes its way;
The first four acts already p^st,
A fifth shall close the drama®1 with the day, —
Time's noblest offspring is the last!
George Berkeley
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XCIX.—THE TYRANT OF SWITZERLAND.
scene first.
(A mountain, with mist.— Gesler seen descending, with a hunting
staff.)
Gesler. Alone — alone ! and, every step, the mist
Thickens around me! On these mountain tracks
To lose one's way, they say, is sometimes death.
What; ho ! Holloa! — No tongue replies to me
0 Heaven, have mercy on me ! Do not see
The color of the hands-I lift to you!
Let me not sink! Uphold ! Have mercy — mercy !
{He falls withfaintness. — Albert enters, almost breathless from the
fury of the storm.)
Albert. I '11 breathe upon this level, if the wind
Will let me. Ha ! a rock to shelter me !
Thanks to it. —A man! and fainting. Courage, friend!
Courage? — A stranger that has lost his way —
Take heart — take heart: you are safe. How feel you now ?
Ges. Better.
Alb. You have-lost your way upon the hills ?
Ges. I have.
Alb. And whither would you go ?
Ges. To Altorf.
Alb. I '11 guide you thither.
Ges. You are a child.
Alb. I know the way; the track I've come
Is harder far to find.
Ges. The track you have come! — "What mean you ? Sura
1T ou have not been still further in the mountains ?
Alb. I have travelled from Mount Faigel.
Ges. No one with thee ?
Alb.» No one but He.
Ges. Do you not fear these storms ?
Alb. He's in the storm.
Ges. And there are torrents, too,
That must be crossed
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Alb. He's by the torrent, too.
Ges. You are but a child.
Alb. He will be with a child.
Ges. You are sure you know the way ?
Alb 'T is but to keep the side of yonder stream.
Ges But guide me safe, I '11 give thee gold.
Alb I '11 guide thee safe without.
Ges. Here's earnest®1 for thee. Here — I '11 double thai,
tea,*1 triple it — but let me see the gate of Altorf.
Why do you refuse the gold ? Take it.
Alb. No.
Ges. You shall.
Alb. I will not.
Ges. Why ?
Alb. Because
I do not covet it; — and though I did,
It would be wrong to take it as the price
Of doing one a kindness.
Ges. Ha !.— who taught thee that ?
Alb. My father.
Ges Does he live in Altorf?
Alb. No; in the mountains.
Ges. How — a mountaineer ?
He should become a tenant of the city:
He would gain by it.
Alb. Not so much as he might lose by it.
Ges. What might he lose by it ?
Alb. Liberty.
Ges. Indeed! He also taught thee that ?
A lb. He did.
Ges. His name?
Alb. This is the way to Altorf, sir.
Ges. I would know thy father's name.
Alb. The day is wasting — we have for to go.
Ges. Thy father's name, I say!
Alb. I will not tell it thee.
Ges. Not tell it me! Why ?
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241
Mb. You may be an enemy of bis.
Ges. May be a friend.
Alb. May be; but should you be
An enemy — although I would not tell you
My father's name, I would guide you safe to Altorf.
Will you follow me ?
Ges. Never mind thy father's name;
What would it profit me to know it 1 Thy hand;
We are not enemies.
Alb. I never had an enemy.
Ges. Lead on.
Mb. Advance your staff
As you descend, and fix it well. Come on.
Ges. What! must we take that steep ?
Alb. 'T is nothing! Come,
I '11 go before. Never fear — come on! come on!
[Exeunt.
C. — THE TYRANT OF SWITZERLAND
SCENE SECOND.
(The Gate of Altorf. — Enter Gesler and Albert.)
Albert. You are at the gate of Altorf.
Gesler. Tarry, boy!
Alb. I would be gone; I am waited for.
Ges. Come back;
Who waits for thee ? Come, tell me; I am rich
And powerful, and can reward.
Alb. 'T is close
On evening; I have far to go; I'm late.
Ges. Stay! I can punish, too.
Boy, do you know me ?
Alb. No.
Ges. Why fear you, then,
To trust me with your father's name ? — Speak.
Alb. Why do you desire to know it ?
Ges. You have served me,
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And I would thank him, if I chanced to pass
His dwelling.
Alb. 'T would not please him that a service
So trifling should be made so much of.
Ges. Trifling ! You have saved my life
Alb. Then do not question me,
But let me go.
Ges. When I have learned from thee
Thy father's name. What, ho ! (Knocks.)
Soldier. (Within.) Who's there ?
Ges. Gesler.
Alb. Ha, Gesler!
Ges. (To soldiers.) Seize him ! Wilt thou tell me
rhy father's name ?
Alb. No.
Ges. I can bid them cast thee
Into a dungeon ! — Wilt thou tell it now ?
Alb. No.
Ges. I can bid them strangle thee! — Wilt tell it ?
Alb. Never.
Ges. Away with him !
CI. — THE TYRANT OF SWITZERLAND.
scene third.
(Gesler.— William Tell in chains and guarded.)
Gesler. Why speakest thou not ?
Tell. For wonder!
Ges. Wonder?
Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man!
Ges. What should I seem ?
Tell. A monster !
Ges. Ha ! Beware — think on thy chains !
Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me dowH
Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up,
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride
Of telling thee, usurper to thy teeth,
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Thou art a monster! — Think upon my chains f
[low came they on me ?
Ges. .barest thou question me ?
Tell. Barest thou not answer ?
Ges. Do I hear ?
Tell. Thou dost.
Ges. Beware my vengeance!
Tell. Can it more than kill ?
Ges. Enough — it can do that.
Tell. No, not enough :
It cannot take away the grace of life, —
Its comeliness®1 of look that virtue gives;
Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
Its rich attire of honorable deeds;
Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues
It cannot lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
Or with polluted finger tarnish it I
Ges. But it can make thee writhe!
Tell. It may.
Ges. And groan!
Tell. It may ; and I may cry
Go on, though it should make me groan again.
Ges. Whence comest thou ?
Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn
What news from them ?
Ges. Canst tell me any ?
Tell. Ay! they watch no more the avalanche."
Ges. Why so ?
Tell. JBecause they look for thee. The hurricane
Comes unawares upon them; from its bed
The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.
Ges. What do they then ?
Tell. Thank Heaven it is not thou !
Thou hast perverted nature in them.
There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but
The thought of thee doth wither to a curse!
244
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Ges, Tha* 's right! I'd have them like their hills,
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt them
Ever so much.
Tell. But they do sometimes smile.
Ges. Ay! - - when is that ?
Tell. Wheu they do talk of vengreance.
Ges. Vengeance! Dare tney taiJc of that?
Tell. Ay, and expect it too.
Gts. From whence ?
Tell. From Heaven!
Ges. From Heaven?
Tell. And their true hands
Ave lifted up to it on every hill
For justice on thee ! J. S. Rnowles.
C1I. — CONFESSIONS OF A BASHFUL MAN."
part first.
1. You must know that in my person I am tall and thin
with a fair complexion, and light flaxen hair; but of such
extreme sensibility to shame, that, on the smallest subject of
confusion, my blood all rushes into my cheeks. Having been sent
to the university, the consciousness of my unhappy failing made
me avoid society, and I became enamored of a college life. But
from that peaceful retreat I was called by the deaths of my
father and of a rich uncle, who left me a fortune of thirty
thousand pounds.
2. I now purchased an estate in the country; and my com¬
pany was much courted by the surrounding families, especially
by such as had marriageable daughters. Though I wished to
accept their offered friendship, I was forced repeatedly to excuse
myself, under the pretence of not being quite settled. Often,
when I have ridden or walked with full intention of returning their
visits, my heart has failed me as I approached their gates, and
I have returned homeward, resolving to try again the next day.
Determined, however, at length to conquer my timidity, I
accepted of an invitation to dine with one, whose open, easy
manner left me no room to doubt a cordial welcome.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
245
3. Sir Thomas Friendly, who lives about two mileo distant, if
El baronet, with an estate joining to that I purchased. He has
two sons and five daughters, all grown up, and living, with their
mother and a maiden sister of Sir Thomas's, at Friendly Hall.
Conscious of my unpolished gait, I have, for some time past,
taken private lessons of a professor, who teaches " grown gentle¬
men to dance ; " and though I at first found wondrous difficulty
in the art he taught, my knowledge of the mathematics was of
prodigious use in teaching me the equilibrium of my body, and
the due adjustment of the centre of gravity to the five positions.
4. Having acquired the art of walking without tottering, and
learned to make a bow, I boldly ventured to obey the baronet's
invitation to a family dinner, not doubting but my new acquire¬
ments would enable me to see the ladies with tolerable intre¬
pidity ; but, alas ! how vain are all the hopes of theory, when
unsupported by habitual practice!
5. As I approached the house, a dinner-bell alarmed my fears,
lest I had spoiled the dinner by want of punctuality. Impressed
with this idea, I blushed the deepest crimson, as my name was
repeatedly announced by the several livery-servants, who ushered
me into the library, hardly knowing what or whom I saw. At
my first entrance, I summoned up all my fortitude, and made
my new-learned bow to Lady Friendly ; but, unfortunately, in
bringing back my left foot to the third position, I trod upon the
gouty toe of poor Sir Thomas, who had followed close at my
heels, to be the nomenclatorE1 of the family.
6. The confusion this occasioned in me is hardly to be con¬
ceived, since none but bashful men can judge my distress.
The baronet's politeness, by degrees, dissipated my concern ;
and I was astonished to see how far good breeding could e. dile
him to suppress his feelings, and to appear with perfect ease
after so painful an accident.
7. The cheerfulness of her ladyship, and the familiar chat
of the young ladies, insensibly led me to throw off my reserve
and sheepishness, till, at length, I ventured to join the conversa¬
tion, and even to start fresh subjects. The library being richly
furnished with books in elegant bindings, I conceived Sir
21*
246
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Thomas to be a man of literature, and ventured . e give my opin¬
ion concerning the several editions of the Greek classics, in
which the baronet's opinion exactly coincided with my own.
8. To this subject I was led by observing an edition of Xen-
ophon83 in sixteen volumes, which (as I had never before heard
of such a thing) greatly excited my curiosity, and I rose up to
examine what it could be. Sir Thomas saw what I was about,
and, as I supposed, willing to save me trouble, rose to take down
the book; which made me more eager to prevent him, and, hastily
laying my hand on the first volume, I pulled it forcibly; but,
lo! instead of books, a board, which, by leather and gilding, had
been made to look like sixteen volumes, came tumbling down,
and unluckily pitched upon a wedgwoodEI inkstand on the table
under it.
9. In vain did Sir Thomas assure me there was no harm; I
saw the ink streaming from an inlaid table on the Turkey carpet,
and, scarce knowing what I did, attempted to stop its prog'ress
with my cambric handkerchief. In the height of this confusion,
we were informed that dinner was served up ; and I, with joy
perceived that the bell, which at first had so alarmed my fears,
was only the half-hour dinner-bell.
CIII. — CONFESSIONS OF A BASHFUL MAN.
part second.
1. In walking through the hall, and suite" of apartments, to
the dining-room, I had time to collect my scattered senses, and
was desired take my seat betwixt Lady Friendly and her eldest
daughte: at the table. Since the fall of the wooden Xenophon,
my iace had been continually burning like a firebrand; and I
was just beginning to recover myself, and to feel comfortably
cool, when an unlooked-for accident rekindled all my heat and
blushes.
2. Havi ng set my plate of soup too near the edge of the table,
in bowing to Miss Dinah, who politely complimented the pat¬
tern of my waistcoat, I tumbled the whole scalding contents into
my lap. In spite of an immediate supply of napkins to wipe the
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
217
3urface of my clothes, my black silk dress was not, stout enough
to save ne from the painful effects of .his sudden fomentation,
and for some minutes I seemed to be in a boiling cauldron; but.
recollecting how Sir Thomas had disguised his torture when I
trod upon his toe, I firmly bore my pain in silence, amidst the
stifled giggling of the ladies and the servants.
8. I will not relate the several blunders which I made during
the first course, or the distress occasioned by my being desired
to carve a fowl, or help to various dishes that stood near me;
spilling a sauce-boat, and knocking down a salt-cellar: rather
let me hasten to the second course, where fresh disasters over
whelmed me quite.
4. I had a piece of rich, sweet pudding on my fork, when
Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble me for a pigeon that
stood near me. In my haste, scarce knowing what I did, 1
whipped the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burning coal. It
was impossible to con'eal my agony; my eyes were starting
from their sockets. At last, in spite of shame and resolution, 1
was obliged to vaj,op the cause of torment on my plate.
5. Sir Thomas and the ladies all compassionated my misfor¬
tune, and each advised a different application. One recom¬
mended oil, another water; but all agreed that wine was best
for drawing out fire; and a glass of sherry was brought me from
the sideboard, which I snatched up with eagerness; but, 0!
how shall I tell the sequel ?
6. Whether the butler by accident mistook, or purposely
designed to drive me mad, he gave me the strongest brandy; with
which I filled my mouth, already flayed and blistered. Totally
unused to every kind of ardent spirits, with my tongue, throat
and palate, as raw as beef, what could I do ? I could not swal¬
low ; and, clapping my hands upon my mouth, the liquor
Bquirted through my fingers like a fountain, over all the dishes
and I was crushed by bursts of laughter from all quarters. In
vain did Sir Thomas reprimand the servants, and Lady Friendly
chide her daughters; for the measure of my shame and their
diversion was not yet complete.
7. To relieve me from the intolerable state of perspiration
248
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which this accident had caused, without considering what I did,
I wiped my face with that ill-fated handkerchief, which was still
wet from the consequences of the fall of Xenophon, and covered
all my features with streaks of ink in every direction. The
baronet himself could not support the shock, but joined his lady
in the general laugh; while I sprang from the table in despair,
rushed out of the house, and ran home in an agony of confusion
and disgrace which the most poignant * sense of guilt could not
have excited. Anon.
CIV. — HELPS TO BEAD.
1. A certain artist — I've forgot his name —
Had got for making spectacles a fame,
Or 44 Helps to Read," — as, when they first were sold
Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ;
And, for all uses to be had from glass,
His were allowed, by readers, to surpass.
2. There came a man into his shop, one day : —
44 Are you the spectacle contriver, pray ? " —
44 Yes, sir," said he, " I can in that affair
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair."—
44 Can you ? Pray do, then." — So, at first he chose
To place a youngish pair upon his nose;
And — book produced,t to see how they would fit —
Asked how he liked 'em. — 44 Like 'em ? Not a bit 1" —
ft. " Then, sir, I fancy — if you please to try —
These in my hand will better suit your eye." —
" No, but they don't." — " Well, come, sir, if you please,
Here is another sort; we '11 e'en try these;
Still somewhat more they magnify the letter:
Now, sir ? " — " Why, now — I'm not a bit the Letter!
41 No ! here, take these that magnify still more;
How do they fit ? " — " Like all the rest before."
* See Exercises under the eighteenth elementary sound, page 38.
t An elliptical form of expression ; meaning, " a book being produced.*
tee V 194, page £8.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER
249
4, In short, they tried a whole assortment through,
But all in vain, for none of 'em would do.
The operator, much surprised to find
So odd a ease, thought, sure the man is blind :
" What sort of eyes can yours be, friend ? " said he.—
" Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see."—•
" Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball;
Pray, let me ask you, can you read at all ? " —
5. " No, you great blockhead! if I could, what need
Of paying you for any Helps to Bead ? " —
And so he left the maker in a heat,
Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat.
Dr. Byrom.
CV. — THE FALLS OF NIAGARA IN WINTER.
1. The river Niag'ara takes its rise in the western extremity
of Lake Erie, and, after flowing about thirty-four miles, empties
itself into Lake Ontario. It is from half a mile to three miles
broad; its course is very smooth, and its depth considerable
The sides above the cataract are nearly level; but below the
falls the stream rushes between very lofty rocks, crowned by
gigantic trees. The great body of water does not fall in one
complete sheet, but is separated by islands, and forms three
distinct falls.
2. One of these, called the Great Fall, or, from its shape, the
Ilorse-shoe Fall, is on the Canadian side. Its beauty is consid¬
ered to surpass that of the others, although its heightEI is con¬
siderably less. It is said to have a fall of one hundred and
sixty-five feet; and in the hotel, which is about three hundred
yards from the fall, the concussion of air caused by this immense
cataract is so great, that the window-frames, and, indeed, the
whole house, are continually in a tremulous motion; and in
winter, when the wind drives the spray in the direction of the
buildings, the whole scene is coated with sheets of ice.
3. The great cataract is seen by few tourists®1 in its winter
garb. I had seen it several years before in all the glories of
autumn, its encircling woods, happily spared by the remorseless
250
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hatchet, and tinted with the brilliant hues peculiar to the Amer-
can " Fall." Now the glory had departed ; the woods were still
there, but were generally black, with occasional green pines;
benea^A the gray trunks was spread a thick mantle of snow, and
from the brown rocks enclosing the deep channel of the Niagara
river hung huge clusters of icicles, twenty feet in length, like
silver pipes of giant organs. The tumultuous rapids appeared to
descend more regularly than formerly over the steps which
distinctly extended across the wide river.
4. The portions of the British, or Horse-shoe Fall, where the
waters descend in masses of snowy whiteness, were unchanged
by the season, except that vast sheets of ice and icicles hung on
their margin; but where the deep waves of sea-green water roll
majestically over the steep, large pieces of descending ice were
frequently descried on its surface. No rainbows were now
observed on the great vapor-cloud which shrouds forever the
bottom of the Fall; but we were extremely fortunate to see
now plainly what I had looked for in vain at my last visit, the
water-rockets, first described by Captain Hall, which shot up
with a train of vapor, singly, and in flights of a dozen, from the
abyss near Table Bock, curved towards the east, and b?trst and
fell in front of the cataract.
5. Vast masses of descending fluid produce this singular effect
by means of condensed®1 air acting on portions of the vapor into
which the water is com'minuted®1 below. Altogether the appear¬
ance was most startling. The broad sheet of the American Fall
presented the appearance of light-green water and feathery
spray, also margined by huge icicles. As in summer, the water
rushing from under the vapor-cloud of the two falls was of a
milky whiteness as far as the ferry, when it became dark and
interspersed with floating masses of ice. Here, the year before,
from the pieces of ice being heaped and crushed together iu
great quantities, was formed a thick and high bridge of ice, com¬
pletely across the river, safe for passengers for some time; and
in the middle of it a Yankee speculator had erected a shanty for
refreshments.
6. Lately, at a dinner-party, 1 heard a staff-officer15' of talent
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251
but woo was fond of exciting wondei by his narratives, propose
to the company a singular wager, —a bet of one hundred pounds
that he would go over the Falls of Niagara and come out alive
at the bottom. No one being inclined to take him up. after a
good deal of discussion as to how this perilous feat was to be
accomplished, the plan was disclosed.
7. To place on Table Rock a crane, with a long arm reaching
over the water of the Horse-shoe Fall; from this arm would
hang, by a stout rope, a large bucket or cask; this would be
taken up some distance above the Fall, where the mill-race®1
slowly glides towards the cataract; here the adventurer would
get into the cask, men stationed on the Table Rock would haul
in the slack of the rope as he descended, and the crane would
swing him clear from the cataract as he passed over. Here is a
chance for aDy gentleman sportsman to immortalize himself!
Sir James Alexandef
CVI. —r THE BELL OF SAFETY.
1. A tourist®1 in Saxony relates that while visiting a silver
mine twelve hundred feet benea^A the surface of the earth, he
became conscious of the sweet, melancholy sound of a bell,
which, at intervals of a minute, would toll dreamily through the
air. " That is the bell of safety," said the guide. — " Does it
jound a warning?" asked the stranger.
2. " No ; the reverse," replied the guide ; " its silence gives
the warning The bell is acted upon by a large water-zMeel
immediately below. By means of this wheel, and of others at
greater dep^s, the whole drainage of this mine is effected. If,
by any means, these water-wheels should cease to act, the bell
would cease to sound, and the miners would hasten up to the
light of day, lest the place where they are working should be
flooded."
3. Fivery few minutes, the haggard toiler, deep in the earth,
pauses to listen to the " still, small voice " of the bell: for such
it seems, as its muffled peals re-ver'ber-ate through the subterra¬
nean®1 gallories. As his ear catches its reassuring tones, ha
isesumpq his work" with a more cheerful will.
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4. In our moral life, amid the perils to which we are every
day exposed, is there no " bell of safety " to inform us when all
is well ? Ah, yes ! the conscience — would we but listen for its
report — would ever be to us a bell of safety; — in our times of
doubt and temptation warning us, by its unresponding silence,
when to escape to the pure light of heaven for refuge and
relief; but sounding on, with its silvery tones of approval and
good cheer, so long as the moral faculties should do their work
aright, neither flooded by passion nor disordered by sin.
5. But to avail ourselves of that " bell of safety " we must
often * pause and listen. If its sound can be heard above all
the din of the world, all the bustle79 and business of life, we may
feel secure. Should we listen for the approval of that little
monitor, and listen in vain, there is but one course for us then ;
— instant escape to the pure upper air of penitence and devo¬
tion — to the reassuring light of heaven — to the Christian'
rock of refuge and of strength ! Osborne.
CVII. — THE PEN.
from the greek.
1. I was a useless thing, a lonely reed! f
No blossom hung its beauty on the weed.
Alike in summer's sun and winter's gloom,
I sighed no fragrance and I bore no bloom.
No cluster wreathed me, — day and night I pined
On the wild moor, and withered in the wind !m
2. At length a wanderer found me. From my side
He smoothed the pale, decaying leaves, and dyed.
My lips in Helicon !M From that high hour
I spoke ! My words were flame and living power!
And there was sweetness round me, — never fell
Eve's sweeter dez^s upon the lily's bell.
I shone ! — night died ! — as if a trumpet called,
Man's spirit rose, pure, fiery, disenthralled!
* See the Exercises under the eighteenth elementary sound, page 39
♦ The pens of the aneient Greeks were made of reeds.
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253
3 Tyrants of earth ! ye saw your light decline,
When I stood forth a wonder and a sign.
To me, the iron sceptre*1 was a wand ;w
The roar of nations pealed at my command;
To me, the dungeon, swordEI and scourge, were vain.
T smote the smiter, and I broke the chain :
Or, towering o'er them all, wi^Aout a plume,
I pierced the purple air, the tempest's gloom ;
Till bwrst the Olympian*1 splendors on my eye,
Stars, temples, thrones, and gods, — Infinity !
Rev. Geo. Croit.
CVIII.— AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR.
1. I cannot, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation on
misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous and
tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation: the
smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and aw¬
ful crisis. It is ngw necessary to instruct the throne in the
language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion
and darkness which envelop it, and display, in its full danger
and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors.
2. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their in
fatuation ? Can parliament be so dead to their dignity and duty,
as to g've their support to measures thus obtruded and forced'
upon them ? — measures, my lords, which have reduced this late
flourishing empire to scorn and contempt! " But yesterday
and Britain might have stood against the world; now, none so
poor to do her reverence."
3. The people, whom we at first despised as rebels,88 but whom
we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied
with every military store, have their interest consulted, and their
ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy — and minis¬
ters do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The
desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man
more highly esteems and honors the British troops than I do. J -
know their virtues and their valor; I know they can achieve
254
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anything but impossibilities ; and I know that the conquest of
British America is an impossibility.
4. You cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America.
What is your present situation there? We do not know the
u 01 st ; but we know that in three campaigns we have done
nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense,
accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the sham¬
bles" of every German despot: your attempts will be forevu
vain and im'potent — doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary
aid on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable resent¬
ment, the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the
mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their
possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an
American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was
landed in my country I never would lay down my arms —
never, never, never !
5. But, my lords, who • is the man that, in addition to the
disgraces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize
and associate to our arms the tomahawl^ and scalping-knife
of the savage ? — to call into civilized alliance the wild and
.inhuman inhabitant of the woods ? — to delegate to the mer¬
ciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the
horrors of this barbarous war against our brethren ? My lords,
these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. But,
my lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on
the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of
morality; " for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk,
" to use all the means which God and nature have put into
our hands."
6. I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles
confessed ; to hear them avowed in this house, or in this country
My lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your atten¬
tion. but I cannot repress my indignation — I feel myself
impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon, as members of
this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrh
ble barbarity! —" That God and nature have put into our
hands ! " What ideas of God and nature that noble lord may
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255
entertain, I know not; but 1 know that such detestable princi¬
ples are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity.
7. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of Hod and nature
to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! to the cannibal
savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking the blood of
his mangled victims ! Such notions shock every precept of
morality every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor.
Thcsb abominable principles, and this more abominable avovval
of them, demand the most decisive indignation.
Lord Chatham.
CIX SHORT POETICAL EXTRACTS.
1. Immortality of the Soul. — Beattie.
Shall I be left forgotten in the dust,
When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ?
Shall Nature's voice, to Man alone unjust,
Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live ?
Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive
With disappointment, penury, and pain ?
No ! Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive;
And Man's majestic beauty bloom again,
Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign,
2. Sonnet.®1 — Anon.
The honey-bee that wanders all day long
The field, the woodland, and the garden o'er,
To gather in his fragrant winter store,
Humming in calm content his quiet song,
Sucks not alone the rose's glowing breast,
The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips,
But from all rank and noisome weeds he sips
The single drop of sweetness ever pressed
Within the poison chalice. Thus, if we
Seek only to draw forth the hidden sweet
In all the varied human flowers we meet,
In the wide garden of Humanity,
And, like the bee, if home the spoil we bear,
Hived in our hearts it turns to nectar there.
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3. Description of Lord Chatham. — Cowper
In him Demos'thenes was heard again ;
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain ;
She clothed him with authority and awe,
Spoke from his lip^, and in his looks gave law
His speech his form, his action, full of grace,
And all his. country beaming in his face,
He stood, as some inimitable hand
Would strive to make a Paul or TullyBI stand.
No sycophant®1 or slave, that dared oppose
Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose;
And every venal®1 stickler®1 for the yoke
Felt himself crushed at the first word he spoke.
4. The Soul. :— Montgomery.
There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found.
And, while the mouldering®1 ashes sleep
Low in the ground,
The soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image, freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine,
A star of day !
The sun is but a mark of fire,
A transient me-teor in the sky;
The soul, immortal as its sire,
Shall n^ver die!
5. Chamouni®1 and Mont Blanc. — Coleridge.
Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown enormous ravines®1 slope amain®1 —
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge !
Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts !
Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven
Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers
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257
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?—
" God !" let the torrents, like a„shout of nations,
Answer; and let the ice-plains echo, " God ! "
" God ! " sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice —
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds'
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall, shall thunder, " God !
6. Hallowed Ground. — Campbell.
What's hallowed ground ? — 'T is what gives birth
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! —
Peace ! Independence ! Truth ! Go forth,
Earth's compass round;
And your high priesthood shall make earth
All184 hallowed ground!
CX. — THE DYING CHRISTIAN "TO HIS SOUL
1. Vital spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, O, quit, this mortal frame !
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
0, the pain, the bliss, of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life !
2. Hark ! they whisper ; angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away !
What is this absorbs me quite, —
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? —
Tell me, my soul, can this be Death ?
3. The world recedes, — it disappears !
Heaven opens on my eyes 3 my ears
With sounds seraphic ring !
Lend, lend your wings 3 I mount 3 I fly !
0 Grave 3 where is thy victory ?
0 Death 3 where is thy sting ? Pope
22*
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CXI. POLY CARP.
Polycarp, one of the fathers of the Christian church, suffered martyrdom
at Smyrna, in the year of our Lord lti7, daring a general persecution of the
Christians.
1 " Go, Lictor,EI lead the prisoner forth, let all the assembly stay,
For he must openly abjure his Christian faith to-day."
The Praetor" spake ; the Lictor went, and Polycarp appeared ;
And tottered, leaning on his staff, to where the pile was reared.
His silver hair, his look benign, which spake his heavenly lot,
Moved into tears both youth and age, but moved the Praetor not.
£ The heathen spake : "Renounce aloud thy Christian heresy !"—
"Hope all things else," the old man cried, " yet hope not this from
me."—
" But if thy stubborn heart refuse thy Saviour to deny,
Thy age shall not avert my wrath ; thy doom shall be — to die !"—
" Think not, 0 judge ! with menaces, to shake my faith in God ;
If in His righteous cause I die, I gladly kiss the rod."—
J. " Blind wretch ! doth not the funeral pile thy vaunting faith appall ?"—
" No funeral pile my ffeart alarms, if God and duty call." —
" Then expiate thy insolence ; ay, perish in the fire !
Go, Lictor, drag him instantly forth to the funeral pyre ! "EI
The Lictor dragged him instantly forth to the pyre ; with bands
He bound him to the martyr's stake, he smote him with his hands.
i " Abjure thy God," the Praetor said, " and thou shalt yet be free." —
" No," cried the hero, " rather let death be my destiny ! "
The Praetor bowed : the Lictor laid with haste the torches nigh :
Forth from the fagots burst the flames, and glanced athwart the sky ;
The patient champion at the stake with flames engirdled stood,
Looked up with rapture-kindling eye, and sealed his faith in blood.
Anon
CXII. — DUFAVEL'S ADVENTURE IN THE WELL.
part first.
t. One morning, early in September, 1836, as Dufavel', one
of the laborers employed in sinking a well at a place near Lyons,
in France, was about to descend, in order to begin his work, one
of his companions called out to him not to go down, as the ground
was giving way, and threatened to fall in. Dufavel, however,
did not profit by the warning, but, exclaiming, " I shall have
THE STANDARD TOURTH READER.
259
plenty of time to go down for my basket first," he entered the
well, which was sixty-two feet in depth.
2. Whew about half-way down, he heard some large stones
falling; but he nevertheless continued his descent, and reached
the bottom in safety. After placing two pieces of plank in his
basket, he was preparing to reascend, when he suddenly heard a
crashing sound above his head, and, looking up, he saw five of
the side supports of the well breaking at once.
3. Greatly alarmed, he shouted for assistance as loudly as he
was able ; but the next moment a large mass of the sandy soil fell
upon him, precluding the possibility of his escape. By a singu¬
lar good fortune, the broken supports fell together in such a
manner, that they formed a species of arch over his head, and
prevented the sand from pouring down, which must have smoth¬
ered him at once.
4. To all appearance, however, he was separated from the
rest of the world, and doomed to perish by suffocation or fam¬
ine. He had a wife and child, and the recollection of them
made him feel still more bitterly his imprudent obstinacy in
descending into the well, after being warned of the danger to
which he was exposing himself.
5. But although he regretted the past, and feared for the
future, he did not give way to despair. Calm and self-possessed,
he raised his heart in prayer to God, and adopted every precau¬
tion in his power to prolong his life. His basket was fastened
to the cord by which he had descended ; and when his comrades™
above began to pull the rope, in the hope of drawing him up to
the surface, he observed that, in their vain efforts, they were
causing his basket to strike against the broken planks above him
in such a manner as to bring down stones and other things.
6. He therefore cut the rope with his knife, which he had no
sooner done than it was drawn up by those at the top of the
well; and, when his friends saw the rope so cut, they knew that
he must be alive, and they determined to make every exertion to
save him.
7. The hole made by the passage of this rope through the
vand that had fallen in was of the greatest use to Dufavel;
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through it he received a supply of fresh air, and after a while
his friends contrived to convey food to him, and even to speak tc
him. Of course he was in utter darkness ; but he was enabled,
in a curious manner, to keep a reckoning of time.
8. A large fly was shut up with him, and kept him company
all the time that he remained there. When he heard it buzzing
about, he knew that it was day; and when the fly was silent, he
knew that it was night. The fly boarded as well as lodged with
him; he was as careful as he could be not to interrupt it while
taking its share of his meal; when he touched it, it would fly
away, buzzing, as if offended, but soon return again. He often
said, afterwards, that the company of this fly had been a great
consolation to him.
9. More skilful persons than the poor laborers of the village
were soon engaged in the attempt to liberate the unfortunate
workman. The municipal®1 authorities of Lyons procured the
assistance of a band of military miners, who, under the direc¬
tion of experienced officers, began to form a subterranean®1 pas¬
sage for the purpose of relieving him. Prayers for his safety
were daily offered up in the churches of Lyons, and the most
intense interest prevailed.
10. It was found necessary to erect a barricade, and station a
guard of soldiers round the scene of the accident, to keep off the
flocking crowd from the neighborhood, all eager to obtain news,
and see what was being done.
cxiii. - — dufavel's adventure in the well.
part two.
1. The cavity at the bottom of the well, over which the
wooden rafters had so providentially formed a sort of roof, was
at first about seven feet in height; but, owing to the sand con¬
stantly running through, and pressing down the roof from above,
by the third day the space became so small, that the poor man
could no longer stand, or even sit upright, but was crushed upon
the ground in a peculiarly painful manner, his legs doubled
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
261
under him, and his head pressed on one side against his left
shoulder.
2. His arms, however, were free, and he used his knife to cut
away such parts of the wood-work as particularly incommoded
him, and to widen the hole which the passage of the rope had
made. Through this hole, by means of a small bottle, soup and
wine were let down to him; and, after a few days, a narrow bag
to receive and bring to the surface the constantly accumulating
sand.
3. Of course, any pressure from above would have forced in
the tem'porary roof: consequently, nothing could be attempted
in the way of removing the mass of sand that had fallen in.
They dared not to touch the surface above; but they contrived,
by means of a tube, to converse with him. He inquired after his
wife and child, and sent word to them to be of good cheer and
he e for the best; at this time he had been a week in the well.
4. The miners worked night and day, but such was the
treacherous nature of the soil that neither pickaxe nor shovel
could be used.. The foremost miner worked upon his knees,
inserting cautiously a flat piece of wood into the ground, and
afterwards gathering up with his hands, and passing to those
behind him, the sand which he thus disturbed.
5. On the twelfth day they calculated that they were only twelve
inches from the imprisoned man; and yet it took them two days
longer to reach him. Every minute the ground was giving way;
and it sometimes took many hours to repair the damage that a
single moment had produced. They had to use the utmost cau¬
tion, lest, when an opening was made, the sand should fall and
suffocate him.
6. At length, about two o'clock in the morning, they made 3
small opening into the well, just above his shoulders. The poor
man shouted for joy, and was able with his knife to assist in
extricating himself. He was#carefully conveyed along the hori-
eontalEI gallery, and wrapped in blankets before he was drawn
into the opea air. Several medical men were in attendance, one
of whom had him conveyed to his house and put to bed.
7. "We will not attempt to describe Dufavol's happy meeting
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with his wife and child. In the evening he was so well that the
doctor consented to his being conveyed to his own home; and he
was accordingly transported thither in a litter, attended by a
great concourse of happy and thankful spectators.
From, the French.
CXIV. — ON OBJECTIONS TO REFORM.
1. I defy the most determined enemy of popular influence,
either now or a little time from now, to prevent a reform in
Parliament.®1 Proud lips _ ust swallow bitter potions. They
tell you, gentlemen, that you have grown rich and powerful with
these rotten boroughs,®1 and that it would be madness to part
with them, or to alter a constitution which had produced such
happy effects.
2. There happens, gentlemen, to live near my parsonage a
laboring man, of very superior character and understanding to
his fellow-laborers, and who has made such good use of that
superiority, that he has saved what is, for his station in life,
a very considerable sum of money; and if his existence is
extended to the common period, he will die rich.
3. It happens, however, that he is, and long has been, troubled
with violent stomuch'icBI pains, for which he has hitherto obtained
no relief, and which really are the bane®1 and torment of his life.
Now, if my excellent laborer were to send for a physician, and
to consult him respecting this malady, would it not be very
singular language if our doctor were to say to him, —
4. " My good friend, you surely will not be so rash as to
attempt to get rid of these pains in your stomach ? Have you
not grown rich with these pains in your stomach ? Have you
Dot risen under them from poverty to prosperity? Has not
your situation, since you were first attacked, been improving
every year? You surely will not be so foolish and so indiscreet
as to part with the pains in your stomach ? "
5. Why, what would be the answer of the rustic to this non¬
sensical monition? "Monster of rhubarb," he would say, "I
am not rich in consequence187 of the pains in my stomach, but iD
spite of the pains in my stomach; and I should have been ten
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
263
times richer, and fifty times happier, if I had never had any
pains in my stomach at all."
6. Gentlemen, these rotten boroughs are your pains in the
stomacn ; — and you would have been a much richer and greater
people, if you had never had them at all. Your wealth and
your power have been owing, not to the debased and corrupted
parts of the House of Commons, but to the many independent
and honorable members whom it has always contained within its
walls. Rev. Sydney Smith.
CXV. THE GRAIN OF SEED.
1. Two wanderers journeyed together through a certain coun¬
try. As they were resting one day at an inn, they suddenly
heard the tolling of bells and a cry of " Fire ! " in the village.
One of the two men rose hastily, threw down his staff and
bundle, and was going to offer his assistance. But the other
detained him, saying: " Why should we tarry here ? ArcEI
there not hands enough to help ? What have we to do with
strangers ? "
2. The other took no notice of him, but ran to the burning
house; then his companion followed slowly, looking on at a dis¬
tance. In front of the house that was on fire stood a woman
stupefied with terror, and crying, " My children ! my children !'
3. When the stranger heard this, he rushed into the burning
house, with the beams and rafters crashing, and the flames hiss¬
ing around him. The people exclaimed: " He is lost! What
madness in him to venture into such a fiery furnace ' "
4. But when they waited a little while, behold, he came forth,
his hair and clothes singed, carrying two children in his arms,
and he took them to their mother. She clasped the children to
her bosom, and fell at the stranger's feet. He raised her, and
comforted her ; in the mean time the house fell.
5. When the stranger and his companion returned to the inn,
the latter said, " Who bade thee undertake such a daring enter¬
prise ? " The other answered and said, " He who bids me put
the grain of seed into the earth, that it may die and bring forth
new fruit."
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6. 44 But how," said the other, 44 if the burning house had
buried thee ? " Then his companion smiled and said, 44 In that
tvent, I should have been myself the buried seed."
From the German of Krummacher.
CXVI. — OUR OBLIGATION TO LIVE.
1. Thou wouldst cease to live: but I should like to know if
thou hast yet begun with life. What! wast thou placed on the
earth to do nothing there ? Does not Heaven impose on thee,
with life, a duty to be fulfilled? If thou hast achieved thy day's
toil before evening, take thy rest for the remainder of the day;
thou art free to do so; but let us see thy work.
2. What answer hast thou ready for the Almighty Judge
when he shall ask thee for thy reckoning ? Unhappy man! show
me the just one who can pretend to have lived long enough; let
me learn from him in what manner life must have been borne to
give us a right to abandon it.
3. Thou reckonest the ills of humanity, and thou sayest,44 Life
is an evil." Look around thee, and search in the order of things
for benefits which are not mingled with evils. Is that a reason
to say that there is no good in the world? and can you confound
what is evil by nature with that which is subject to evil by
accident ?
4. Man's passive life is nothing — it merely concerns a body
from which he will soon be delivered; but his active and moral
life, which must influence his whole being, consists in the exercise
of his will. Life is an evil to the wicked man in prosperity,
and a good to the upright man in misfortune; for it is not its
transient alteration, but its affinity"1 with its object, which ren¬
ders it either beneficial or injurious.
5. Thou art weary of life, and thou sayest, 44 Life is an evil."
Sooner or later thou shalt be comforted, and shalt say, 44 Life is
a good." This will be more truly spoken, without being better
argued; for nothing will have changed but thyself. Change
thyself, then, from to-day; and since the evil lies in the pec¬
cant"1 disposition of thy soul, correct thy disordered desires, and
io not burn down thy house to escape from keeping it in order.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
265
6. What are ten, twenty, thirty years, to an immortal being ?
Pleasure and pain glide by us like shadows ; life vanishes in a
moment; it is nothing in itself, — its value consists in its use.
The good we have done is the only thing which abides, and this
it is which renders life of any account.
7. Say not any longer, then, that it is bad for thee to live,
since it depends entirely on thyself that it be good ; and even
if it be an evil to have lived, do not say, either, that thou hast
a right to die: for as well mightest thou say that thou art free
not to be a man, as that thou hast a right to rebel88 against the
author of thy existence, and to elude thy destiny.
8. Suicide is a stealthy and abominable death — it is a theft
practised on mankind. Before you leave the world, return what
it has done for thee. — "But I care for nothing; I am of no use
in the world." Philosopher of a day! knowest thou not thou
canst not move a step on this earth without finding some duty to
be done; and that every man is useful to his kind by the very
fact of his existence ?
9. Rash youth! if there still lingers in thy heart the least
principle of virtue, come with me, and let me teach thee to love
life. Every time thou art tempted to leave it, say to thyself,
Let me do another act of charity before I die; " then, go in
«juest of some poor man to be relieved, of some unfortunate man
to be comforted, of some oppressed man to be defended. If this
consideration restrain thee to-day, it will restrain thee to-morrow,
the day after, all thy life long. From the French of Rousseau.
CXVII. — THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
1 Sweet is the scene when virtue dies,
When sinks a righteous soul to rest;
How mildly beam the closing eyes !
How gently heaves the expiring breast!
2. So fades a summer cloud away,
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies the wave along the shore.
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the standard fourth reader.
3. Triumphant smiles the victor-brow.
Fanned by some angel's purple wing;
O Grave ! where is thy victory now ?
Invidious Death! - where is thy sting 7
4. A holy quiet reigns around,
A calm which nothing can destroy;
Naught can disturb that peace profound
Which the unfettered souls enjoy.
5. Farewell, Conflicting hopes and fears,
Where lights and shades alter'nate dwell!
How bright the unchanging morn appears! —
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell!
6. Its duty done — as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,
Sweet is the scene when virtue dies.
CXVIII. — THE PARTS OP SPEECH.
1. As the artificial division of language into parts of speech
is necessary in order to reduce its construction within general
rules, and as this act of abstraction® is, without some familiar
illustration, beyond the capacity of many, it is important to
ascertain the means by which vei-y young children may compre¬
hend what-is abstractly and philosophically® meant by the parts
of speech. Every child, who has a brother younger than him¬
self, may be made to remember the time when his little brother
began first to articulate sounds.
2. It may be called to his recollection that the first sounds
or words uttered by his brother were those which expressed
pleasure or pain : as oh! eh ! la! all which words grammarians11
have agreed to call Interjections.®1 So that his brother and all
other children first began to speak interjections, or cries express¬
ive of pleasure or pain, or sudden ioy or fear.
3. The next words, or sounds, which his brother would speak,
were " papa, mamma, horse, dog, cat, brother, sister, nurse," or
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
261
the names of such persons and things as he saw the ofteriest, oi
was most pleased with; all which words grammarians call
Nouns.®1 For some time, therefore, his brother spoke nothing
but interjections, or cries, and nouns, or names of things.
4. But the infant would soon begin to use other words; as,
" run, fly, eat, drink, walk, laugh, cry," which all express mo-
lion or action, and are by grammarians called Verbs.®1 This
part of speech, denominated the verb, expresses every kind of
action and every mode of existence, and is the third general
class of words which an infant would use. By means of the
noun, or name of a thing, and of the verb, he would be able to
say almost anything; as,
Noun. Verb. Noun. Verb. Noun. Verb.
fire burns. mamma comes. papa runs.
5. But the infant will soon have occasion to express the sense
which different nouns convey to his mind; as, hot fire, kind
mamma, good papa, sweet sugar; which words "hot, kind,good,
sweet," are a new class, or part of speech, called Adjectives,1:1
or, by some grammarians, Adnauns, as belonging to or qualifying
the noun or thing spoken of.
6. The next effort of the child to express himself to others
will be to qualify the verb dr action; and to say, man runs fast,
mamma comes soon, stroke puss softly ; which words fast, soon.
and softly, and all such, are the kind of words called by gram¬
marians Adverbs.®1
7. The child will soon have occasion to describe the position
of nouns in regard to each other; as, to papa, from mamma,
with nurse, behind the door; which words to, from, with, behind,
belong to the sixth class, or kind of words called by gramma*
rians Prepositions.®1
8. To avoid the too frequent repetition of nouns in speaking
the child will soon say, instead of brother hurts Alfred, he hurts
me, which word he is used for the noun brother, and me is used
for the noun Alfred: the words her and me, as well as I, thou.
you, she, they, it', and all such, are words used instead of nouns
»nd are therefore called Pronouns.®1
9. The child will now be able to express himself on all sub
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the standard fourth reader.
jects, and the two parts of speech not yet described are refine¬
ments,11 and not common to language in a rude state. It
frequently becomes necessary to determine whether we speak of
a particular man, or of man in general; and therefore we say,
a man called, or the man called, which first implies some man,
or any man, indefinitely, and the last a particular man. The
Little words a and the are called, in the science of grammar,
Articles.11
10. In a formal®1 speech or discourse, it becomes necessary to
join sentences together, and introduce words which indicate their
connection with each other, all which are denominated Conjunc¬
tions.®1 The word and is a conjunction of very frequent use;
if is another, though and yet are others. The acquirement and
judicious use of this part of speech is the last thing attained in
the study of language.
11. It may thus be made to appear, to a class of children,
that the division of language into parts of speech is perfectly
natural; and, by means of such a pleasant narrative, they may
be made to feel the force and necessity of the several divisions
better than, by any force of abstraction, they could reduce lan¬
guage, as it is viewed in the mass, back again to its elements.
Bossufs First French Grammar.
cxix. — the kothschilds.
1. At the time of the French Revolution, there lived at
Frankfort-on-the-Maine, in Germany, a Jewish banker, of limited
means, but good reputation, named Moses Rothschild. When
the French army invaded Germany, the Prince of Hesse Cassel
was obliged to fly from his dominions. As he passed through
Frankfort, he requested Moses Rothschild to take charge of a
large sum of money and some valuable jewels, which he feaied
might otherwise fall into the hands of the enemy.
2. The Jew would have declined so great a charge; but the
prince was so much at a loss for the means of saving his prop¬
erty, that Moses at length consented. He declined, however,
giving a receipt for it, as in such dangerous circumstances he
could not be answerable for its being safely restjred.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
26
3. The money and jewels, to the value of several hundred
thousand pounds, were conveyed to Frankfort; and just as the
French entered the town Mr Rothschild had succeeded in bury¬
ing the treasure in a corner of his garden. He made no attempt
to conceal his own property, which amounted only to six thou¬
sand pounds. The French accordingly took this, without sus¬
pecting that he had any larger sum in his possession.
4. Had he, on the con'trary, pretended to have no money,
they would have certainly searched, as they did in many other
cases, and might have found and taken the whole. When they
left the town, Mr. Rothschild dug up the prince's money, and
began to make use'of a small portion of it. He now thrived
in his business, and soon gained much wealth of his own.
5. A few years after, when peace came, the Prince of Hesse
Cassel returned to his dominions. He was almost afraid to call
on the Frankfort banker, for he readily reflected that, if the
French had not got the money and jewels, Moses might pretend
they had, and thus keep all to himself.
6. To his great astonishment, Mr. Rothschild informed him
that the whole of the property was safe, and now ready to be
returned, with five per cent.®1 interest on the money. The
banker at the same time related by what means he had saved it,
and apologized for breakihg upon the money, by representing
that, to save it, he had had to sacrifice all his own.
7. The prince was so impressed by the fidelity of Mr. Roths¬
child under his great trust, that he allowed the money to remain
in his hands at a small rate of interest. To mark, also, his
gratitude, he recommended the Jew to various Europe'an sover¬
eigns as a money-lender. Moses was consequently employed in
several great transactions for raising loans, by which he realized
a vast profit.
8. In time he became immensely rich, and put his three sons
into the same kind of business in the three chief capitals of
Europe — London, Paris and Vienna. All of them prospered.
They became the wealthiest private men whom the world has
ver known. He who lived in London left at his death thirty-
five millions of dollars. The other two have been created
23*
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barons, and are perhaps not less wealthy. Thus a family whose
purse has maintained war and brought about peace owes all
its greatness to one act of honesty under trust. Artoru
CXX.—TIME AND BEAUTY
1 Ruthless Time, who waits for no * man,
Rut with scythe, and wings, and glass,
Lies in wait for youth and woman,
Saw, one morning, Beauty j>ass.
O'er the flowers she bounded lightly,
Smiling as a summer's day:
Time, who marked her eyes beam brightly,
Chose the fair one for his prey.
" Maid," he rudely cried, 44 good-morrow!
Know'st thou not what rights are mine ?
Beauty't is my wont to borrow;
And I come to gather thine."—
44 I '11 not yield it! " crie$ she, boldly;
" Monster, do not draw so nigh! "—
41 Come with me," he answered, coldly. —
44 Go with thee ? " said she; 44 not I! "
2, Time his scythe extended o'er her,
Threatening with his withered hand;
And his hour-glass shook before her,
Pointing to the running sand.
But the maiden, all intrepid,
Answered, laughing carelessly,
441 am young, and thou decrepid —
What hast thou to do with me ? "
Time replied, with purpose steady,
44 Wrinkles I must lend thy brow." —
Beauty cried, 441'm not yet ready,"
Flying cried, 44 not ready now."
* Sound the words no man here as if they were a single word of two sylla.
bles, with the accent on the first.
the standard- fourth reader.
271
Time pursued with will unshaken;
Beauty fled with rapid feet,
Yet was soon well-nigh o'ertaken,
For the old man's wings are fleet.
3. But the maiden, nothing fearful,
Calls on Wisdom's power divine;
Wisdom comes, with aspect cheerful —
Leads her to her ancient shrine.
There her eye all passion loses,
But with reason shines serene;
Truth its sober charm diffuses
Gently o'er her softened mien.
Thought restrains her youthful wildness ;
Calmness192 holy hopes bestow;
On her face, love, joined to mildness,
Blends its light with virtue's glow.
Time saw heavenly graces cluster, — .
Left, o'erawed — his will undone;
Beauty smiled in angel lustre —
Time was vanquished; Beauty won.
London Literary Gazette,
cxxi.—'"words and acts.
1. One of your speakers, 0 Athenians ! recently remarked:
" The counsels of Demos'the-nes are always very discreet; but
after all, what does he offer to the country but words, when actions
are what are needed? " Permit me to consider this objection.
2. The actions of a statesman are in wise advice. He deals
in none other. I will instance an example. You remember
that formerly the illustrious Ti-mo'the-us harangued the people
upon the necessity of sending succors to the Eubse'ans and
saving them from the Theban yoke.
3. " What! my countrymen ! " said he; " the Thebans are
in the adjoining island, and you deliberate ! You do not cover
the sea with your galleys? You do not fly hence to the Pirse'us?
You do not launch every ship?" Such, or nearly such, were
272
THE STANDARD FOORTH READER.
his words. And you, my countrymen, you acted ; and the work
was done!
4. But if, when he proposed the measure, salutary as it
was, a reluctant indolence had closed your ears, would Athens
have achieved the results which redounded to her glory? Noi
at all!
5. And so it is, at this moment, with my words — with the
words of every speaker. It is our part to give judicious coum
sel; but it is yours to put that counsel into vigorous execution.
Demosthenes.
CXXII. —THE MISER FITLY PUNISHED.
In the year 1762, a miser, of the name of Foscue, in France, baring
amassed enormous wealth by habits of extortion and the most sordid parsi¬
mony, was requested by the government to advance a sum of money as a
loan. The miser demurred, pretending that he was poor. In order to
hide his gold effectually, he dug a deep cave in his cellar,, the descent to
which was by a ladder, and which was entered by means of a trap-door, to
which was attached a spring-lock.
He entered this cave, one day, to gloat over his gold, when the trap-door
fell upon him, and the spring-lock, the key to which he had left on the out¬
side, snapped, and held him a prisoner in the cave, where he perished miser¬
ably. Some months afterwards a search was made, and his body was found
in the midst of money-bags, with a candlestick lying beside it on the floor.
In the following lines the miser is supposed to have just entered his cave,
and to be soliloquizing.
1. So, so ! all safe! Come forth, my pretty sparklers,—
Come forth, and feast my eyes! Be not afraid J
No keen-eyed agent of the government
Can see you here. They wanted me, forsooth,
To lend you, at the lawful rate of usance,"
For the state's needs. Ha, ha! my shining pets,
My yellow darlings, my sweet golden circlets !
Too well I loved you to do that — and so
I pleaded poverty, and none could prove
My story was not true.
2. Ha ! could they see
These bags of ducats, and that precious pile
Of ingots,EI and those bars of solid gold,
Their eyes, methinks, would water. What a comfort
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
273
Is it to see my moneys in a heap
All safely lodged under my very roof <
Here's a fat hag — let me untie the mouth of it.
What eloquence! What beauty! What expression.
Could Cicero so plead ? Could Helen look
One half so charming? (The trap-door falls.)
3 Ah ! what sound was that ? —
The trap-door fallen ? .and the spring-lock caught ?—
Well, have I not the key? — Of course I have!
'Tis in this pocket. — No. In this ?— No. Then
I left it at the bottom of the ladder.—
Ha ! 't is not there. Where then ? — Ah ! mercy, Heaven!
'T is in the lock outside !
4 What's to be done?
Help, help! Will no one hear ? 0 ! would that 1
Had not discharged old Simon ! — but he begged
Each week for wages — would not give mh credit.
I '11 try my strength upon the door. — Despair!
I might as soon uproot the eternal rocks
As force it open. Am I here a prisoner,
And no one in the house ? no one at hand,
Or likely soon to be, to hear my cries ?
Am I entombed alive ? — Horrible fate !
I sink — I faint beneath the bare conception ! (Swoons.)
M (Awakes.) Darkness? Where am I? — I remember now—
This is a bag of ducats— 'fis no dream —
No dream ! The trap-door fell, and here am I
Immured with my dear gold — my candle out —
All gloom — all silence — all despair! What, ho!
Friends! —Friends?— I have no friends. What right have
To use the name? These money-bags have been
The only friends I've cared for — and for these
I've toiled, and pinched, apd screwed, shutting my heart
To charity, humanity and love !
6 Detested traitors ! since I gave you all, —
Ay, gave my very soul, — can ye do naught
For me in this extremity ? — Ho ! Without there!
A thousand ducats for a loaf of bread !
Ten thousand ducats for a glass of water!
A pile of ingots for a helping hand! —
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Was that a laugh? — Ay, 'twas a fiend that laughed
To see a miser in the grip of death !
7. Offended Heaven ! have mercy ! — I will give
In alms all this vile rubbish, aid me thou
In this most dreadful strait! I '11 build a church —-
A hospital! — Vain ! vain ! Too late, too late!
Heaven knows the miser's heart too well to trust him!
Heaven will not hear! — Why should it 1 What have 1
Done to enlist Heaven's favor— to help on
Heaven's cause on earth, in human hearts and homes? —
Nothing ! God's kingdom will not come the sooner
For any work or any prayer of mine.
8 But must I die here — in my own trap caught ?
Die — die ? — and then! 0 ! mercy ! Grant me time—
Thou who canst save — grant me a little time,
And I '11 redeem the past — undo the evil
That I have done — make thousands happy with
This hoarded treasure — do thy will on earth
As it is done in heaven — grant me but time !
Nor man nor God will heed my shrieks.! All's lost!
Osborne.
CXXIII. — MISCELLANEOUS EXTRACTS.
1. If thou thinkest twice before thou speakest once, thou
wilt speak twice the better for it. Better say nothing than not
to the purpose. And, to speak pertinently, consider both what
is fit and when it is fit to speak. In all debates, let truth be
thy aim; not victory, or an unjust interest; and endeavor to
gain rather than to expose thy antagonist. — William Penn.
2. " Sleep is so like death," says Sir Thomas Browne, " that 1
dare not trust myself to it without prayer." And their resem¬
blance is, indeed, striking and appar'ent. They both, when they
seize the body, leave the soul at liberty; and wise is he that
rememoers of both, that they can be made safe and happy
only by virtue. — Sir W. Temple.
3. When a king asked Euclid, the mathematician, whether he
could not explain his art to him in a more compendious" man¬
ner, he was answered that there was no royal way to geometry.
Other things may be seized by might, or purchased with money,
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but knowledge is to be gained only by study, and study to be
prosecuted only in retirement. — Dr. J ohnson.
4. Scratch the green rind of a sapling, or wantonly twist it in
the soil, and a scarred or crooked oak will tell of the act for
centuries to come. So it is with the teachings of youth, which
make impressions on the mind and heart that are to last forever.
— Anon.ei
5. Thought engenders thought. Place one idea upon paper,
another will follow it, and still another, until you have written a
page. You cannot fathom your mind. There is a well of
thought there that has no bottom. The more you draw from it,
the more clear and abounding will it be. Learn to think, and
you will learn to write; the more you think, the better you will
express your ideas. — Anon.
6. Spend your time in nothing which you know must be
repented of. Spend it in nothing on which you might not pray
for the blessing of Giod. Spend it in nothing which you could
not review with a quiet conscience on your dying bed. Spend it
in nothing which you might not safely and properly be found
doing if death should surprise you in the act. — Baxter.
7. Truth is to be sought only by slow and painful progress.
Error is in its nature flippant and compendious ;EI it hops with
airy and fastidious levity over proofs and arguments, and
oerches upon assertion, which it calls conclusion.— Curran.
8. Accuracy of perception, and truthfulness in all the details'
of statement, should be included as among the most valuable
elements of education and character. Dr. Johnson is reported
to have said, " If the child says he looked out of this window
when he looked out of that, whip him." And many a grown-up
person might be better if he Were whipped until this kind of
falsehood was beaten out of him. — Anon.
9. It is not by books alone, or chiefly, that one becomes in
all points a man. Study to do faithfully every dwty that comes
in your way. Stand to your post; silently devour the chagrins'
of life; love justice; control self; swerve not from truth or right;
be a man of rectitude, decision, conscientiousness: one that fears
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and obeys God, and exercises benevolence to all; and in all this
you shall possess true manliness. — Carlyle.
10. I tell you honestly what I think is the cause of the com¬
plicated maladies of the human race; it is the gormandizing
and stuffing, and stimulating their digestive organs to an excess,
thereby producing nervous disorders and irritations. The state
of their minds is another grand cause; the fidgeting and. discon¬
tenting yourselves about what cannot be helped; passions of all
kinds. 'Malignant passions pressing upon the mind disturb the
cerebral151 action, and do much harm. — Dr. Abernetiiy,
11. Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but an at¬
tempted substitute for exercise or temperance. Nothing, says
Huf'eland, can supply the place of exercise in the open air.
Without it, the body very soon evidently grows languid, the cir¬
culation is impeded, the general nervous energy impaired,
the digestive functions ener'vated and disordered, and the body
becomes a prey to some chronic®1 disorder.- — Dr. Brigham.
12. By the mis'anthrope®1 mankind are described as knaves
and fools — a set of beings deserving nothing but hatred and
contempt. He always excepts himself. All but 1 are wretches
— this is the form'ula®1 of his belief. Truly it would be a
strange chance which should have made all bad but he. To one
who said, " I do not believe there is an honest man in the
world," another replied, " It is impossible that any one man
should know all the world, but quite possible that one may know
himself." — Chambers.
13. I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of
society but the people themselves; and if we think them not
enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome
discretion, the remedy is, not to take it from them, but to inform
their discretion by education. — Thomas Jefferson.
14. A clergyman was once accosted by a doctor, a professed
unbeliever in religion, who asked him if he followed preaching
to save souls. — "Yes." — "If he ever saw a soul?" —
' No." — " If he ever heard a soul ? " — " No." — " If he ever
tasted a soul?" — "No." — " If he ever smelt a soul?" —
' No." — " If he ever felt a soul ? " — " Yes." — " Well," said
TiliS STAN HARD FOURTH READER.
the doctor, "there are four of the five senses against one upos
the question whether there be a soul."
15. The clergyman then asked if he were a doctor of med¬
icine. — Yes." — " If he ever saw a pain ? " — " No." — " If'
he ever heard a pain ? " — " No." — " If he ever tasted a
pain? " — " No."—" If he ever smelt a pain?"—" No." — " If
he ever felt a pain ? " — " Yes." — " Well, then," said the cler¬
gyman, " there are also four senses against one upon the question
whether there be a pain; and yet, sir, you know that there is a
pain, and I know that there is a soul."— Anon.
CXXIV. — LOKMAN.
1. Lokman, surnamed the Wise, lived in very early times,
probably in the days'of King David and King Solomon, and his
name is still famous in the East as the inventor of many fables
and parables,®1 and various stories are told of his wisdom. It
was said that he was a native of Ethiopia, and either a tailor,
a carpenter, or a shepherd; and that afterwards he was a
slave in various countries, and was at last sold among the
Israelites.
2. One day, as he was seated in the midst of a company who
were all listening to him with great respect and attention, a Jew
of high rank, looking earnestly at him, asked him whether he
was not the same man whom he had seen keeping the sheep of
one of his neighbors. Lokman said he was. " And how," said
the other, " did you, a poor slave, come to be so famous as a
wise man ? "
3. " By exactly observing these rules," replied Lokman:
■' Always speak the truth without disguise, strictly keep your
promises, and do not meddle with what does not concern you."
Another time, he said that he had learned his wisdom from the
blind, who will believe nothing but what they hold in their
hands : meaning that he always examined things, and took great
pains to find out the truth.
4. Being once sent, with some other slaves, to fetch fruit, his
companions ate a great deal of it, and then said it was he whu
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had eaten it; ?n which he drank warm water to make nimself
sick and thus proved that he had no fruit in his stomach;
and the other slaves, being obliged to do the same, were found
out.
5, Another story of him is, that his master having given him
a kind of melon, called the coloqum'tida, which is one of tho
bitterest things in the world, Lokman immediately ateKI it all
up without making faces, or showing the least dislike. His mas¬
ter, quite surprised, said, " How was it possible for you to swallow
so nauseous a fruit ? " Lokman replied, " I have received so
many Sweets from you, that it is not wonderful that I should
have swallowed the only bitter fruit you ever gave me." His
master was so much struck by this generous and grateful answer
that he immediately rewarded him by giving him his liberty.*
6. At this day, " to teach Lokman " is a common saying in the
East, to express a thing impossible. It is said, too, that he was
as good as he was wise; and, indeed, it is the chief part of wis¬
dom to be good. He was particularly remarkable for his love to
God, and his reverence of His holy name. He is reported to
have lived to a good old age; and, many centuries after, a tomb
in the little town of Ramlah, not far from Jerusalem, was
pointed out as Lokman's. Aikin.
CXXV. — WELCOME TO THE RHINE.
The German army of liberators, on their return from France, are said to
have burst into a national chant of welcome to the Rhine, on coming in sight
of that celebrated river.
The chorus of this song is well adapted for the purpose of simultaneous
reading on the part of a class.
single voice.
It is the Rhine! our mountain vineyards laving,
I see the bright flood shine!
Sing on the march, with every banner waving —
Sing, brothers, 't is the Rhine !
* gee a poem founded on this incident, page-182.
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qjiorus.
The Rhine! the Rhine! our own imperial river!
Be glory on thy track!
We left thy shores, -to die or to deliver; —
We bear thee Freedom back !
single voice.
Hail ! hail! my childhood knew thy rush of watei,
Even as my mother's song;
That sound went past me on the field of slaughter,
And heart and arm grew strong !
chorus.
Roll proudly on! — brave blood is with thee sweeping,
Poured out by sons of thine,
Where sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping,
Like thee, victorious Rhine !
single voice.
Home ! — home! —thy glad wave hath a tone of greeting
Thy path is by my home:
1 Even now my children count the hours till meeting.
0 ransomed ones, I come !
chorus.
Go, tell the seas that chain shall bind thee never,
Sound on by hearth and shrine!
Sing through the hills that thou art free forever —
Lift up thy voice, 0 Rhine '
Mrs. Hemans
CXXVI. — A GENUINE HERO.
1, Louis Brune was by profession a porter on the quays48 of
Rouen ;EI but it might almost be said that his trade consisted in
saving lives at the risk of his own. It has been legally attested
that he had saved the lives of forty-two persons previously to
the year 1883.
2. Being constantly near the river-side, he had necessarily
numerous occasions of exercising his benevolent propensities
but how many, having the same opportunities, would, like Brune,
have risked their own life to save that of others ? Who would,
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like him, have eagerly watched oi> the shore, in the hour of
danger, for some noble deed to accomplish ?
3. On the 28th of January, 1838, the river Seine,*1 which
had been frozen for several days, was covered with skaters. It
was in vain that they were told of the expected tide, which
must* certainly break the ice: neither the danger which they
ran, nor the warnings and efforts of the local authorities, suc¬
ceeded in producing any effect upon them. Brune, whose wife
and aged mother were then ill, remained all day on the quay, in
expectation of the disaster which he knew to be inevitable.
4. In vain pressing messages to return home came from his
family; he firmly refused to leave the spot; and not even for
his meals could he be induced to desert the post he had assigned
to himself. Nor was it long before a rushing sound was heard;
the ice was breaking in every direction, and the precipitate
flight of the imprudent crowd increased the disaster.
5. A gentleman and his wife, who were enjoying the exercise
of skating, suddenly disappeared in a large opening which th6
breaking ice had formed benea^A them. Brune, who was eagerly
looking out, rushed over the ice that bent beneath his tread,
plunged into the river, seized the gentleman, and brought him
safely to the shore.
6. No sooner had he accomplished this, than he once more
precipitated himself into the river, and was fortunate enough in
seizing the lady, who had already disappeared under the ice;
but, benumbed by the cold, and his strength failing him through
his unwonted exertion, he in vain endeavored to rise to the sur¬
face ; he laid hold of the masses of ice, but merely cut his hands
in the attempt.
7. Notwithstanding the most desperate efforts, he was on the
point of perishing with her whom he endeavored to save, when
a rope was thrown to him; he seized it, and, though not without
difficulty, reached the shore with his burden, amidst the applause
of the assembled crowd.
8. That the heroic Brune was appreciated by his countrymen,
may be seen from the fact that the town of Rouen erected a
house for him at the public expense, with an inscription simply
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stating that this house had been offered to Louis Brune by the
town of Rouen. Amongst other marks of distinction conferred
upon him, may be mentioned the decoration of the Cross of the
-region of Honor, which he publicly received.
9. His useful life was shortened by his zeal for humanity.
He died universally mourned and respected. The most distin¬
guished persons of the town assisted at his funeral, and his
memory is still held in the deepest veneration by his fellow-
citizens. Chambers.
cxxvii. — william tell shoots the apple from his
son's head.
gesler bertha tell albert — officers peasants"
Gesler. 1 hear, Tell, you 're a master with the bow,
And bear the palm away from every rival.
Albert. That must be true, sir! At a hundred yards
He '11 shoot an apple for you off the tree.
Gesler. Is that boy thine, Tell ?
Tell. Yes, my gracious lord. •
Gesler. Hast thou more of them ?
Tell. Two boys, my lord.
Gesler. And, of the two, which dost thou love the most 7
Tell. Sir, both the boys are dear to me alike.
Gesler. Then, Tell, since at a hundred yards thou canst
Bring down the apple from the tree, thou shalt
Approve thy skill before me; Take ti " bow —
Thou hast it there at hand — and make thee ready
To shoot an apple from the stripling's head!
But take this counsel — look well to thine aim!
See that thou hitt'st the apple at the first,
For, shouldst thou miss, thy head shall pay the forfeit.
Tell. "What monstrous thing, my lord, is this you ask ?
That I, from the head of mine own child! — No, no!
It caunot be, kind sir ! — you meant not that! —
'T is but a jest of yours ! You could not ask
A father seriously to do that thing!
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Gesler. Thou art to shoot an apple from his head!
I do desire — command it so.
Tell. "What, I!
Level my crossbow at the darling head
Of mine own child ? No — rather let me die!
Gesler. Or thou must shoot, or -with thee dies the boy !
Tell. Shall I become the murderer of my child ?
You have no children, sir— you do not know
The tender throbbings of a father's heart!
Bertha. 0, do not jest, my lord, with these poor souls!
See how they tremble, and how pale they look,
So little used are they to hear thee jest!
Gesler. Who tells thee that I jest ? Here is the apple:
Koom there, I say! And let him take his distance —
Just eighty paces, — as the custom is, —
Not an inch more or less! It was his boast
That at a hundred he could hit his man.
Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not!
Bertha. Heavens! this grows serious; — down, boy, on your
knees,
And beg the governor to spare your life.
Albert. I will not down upon my knee3 to him !
Bertha. My lord, let this suffice you. 'T is inhuman
To trifle with a father's anguish thus.
Although this wretched man had forfeited
Both life and limb for such a slight offence,
Already has he suffered ten-fold death.
Send him away uninjured ' ^ nis home;
He '11 know thee well in future; and this hour
He and his children's children will remember.
Gesler. Open a way, there — quick ! Why this delay T
Thy life is forfeited ; I might dispatch thee,
And see, I graciously repose thy fate
Upon the skill of thine own practised hand.
No cause has he to say his doom is harsh,
Who's made the master of his destiny.
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Thou boastest of thy steady eye. 'T is well!
Now is the fitting time to show thy skill.
Albert. Say, where am I to stand ? I do not fear:
My father strikes the bird upon the wing,
And will not miss now when't would harm his boy !
Bertha. Does the child's innocence not touch thy heart ?
Bethink you, sir, there is a power in heaven,
To which you must account for all your deeds.
Gesler. Bind him to yonder lime-tree straight!
Albert. Bind me ?
No, I will not be bound! I will be still,
Still as a lamb — nor even draw my breath!
But, if you bind me, I cannot be still.
Then I shall writhe and struggle with my bonds.
Bertha. But let your eyes, at least, be bandaged, boy !
Albert. And why my eyes ? No ! Do you think I fear
An arrow from my father's hand ? Not I!
I '11 wait it firmly, nor so much as wink!
Quick, father, show them that thou art an archer!
He doubts thy skill — he thinks to ruin us.
Shoot, then, and hit, though but to spite the tyrant!
Gesler. Now to thy task! I will provide the mark.
Tell. A lane there ! Room !
Bertha. But will you really venture on it, Tell ?
You shake — your hand's unsteady — your knees tremble.
Tell. There's something swims before mine eyes !
Release me from this shot! Here is my heart!
Summon your troopers — let them strike me down !
Gesler. I do not want thy life, Tell, but the shot.
Albert. Come, father, shoot! I'm not afraid !
Tell. It must be ! (Collects himself, and shoots.)
Many voices. The boy's alive! The apple has been struck.!
Albert. Here is the apple, father! Well I knew-
You would not harm your boy.
Gesler. W ell done ! the apple's cleft right through the core
It was a master shot, 1 must allow.
A word, Tell.
Tell. Sir, your pleasure ?
282 . 4 fourth reader.
^ Thou didst place
^ J belt—nay, nay !
/it was thy purpose with it ?
/Custom with all archers, sir.
Tell, I cannot let that answer pass,
some other motive, well I know.
i\ and cheerfully confess the truth ; —
Whoe'er it be, I promise thee thy life, —
Wherefore®1 the second arrow ?
Tell. Well, my lord,
Since you have promised not to take my life,
I will, without reserve, declare the truth.
If that my hand had struck my darling child,
This second arrow I had aimed at you,
And, be assured, I should not then have missed. Schiller.
CXXVIII. — IMPORTANCE OF SELF-DISCIPLINE.
1. Costly appara'tus®1 and splendid cabinets®1 have no mag¬
ical power to make scholars. In all circumstances, as a man is,
under God, the master of his own fortune, so is he the maker of
his own mind.
2. The Creator has so constituted the human intellect that it
can only grow by its own action; and by its own action and
free will it will certainly and necessarily grow. Every man
must, therefore,®1 educate himself. His book and teacher are
but helps ; the work is his.
3. A man is not educated until he has the ability to summon,
in an emergency, all his mental powers in vigorous exercise to
effect a proposed object. It is not the man who has seen most,
or read most, who can do this; such a one is in danger of being
borne down, like a beast of burden, by an overwhelming mass
of bther men's thoughts.
4. Nor is it the man who can boast of native vigor and
capacity. The greatest of all the warriors, in the siege of Troy,
had not the preeminence because nature had given strength and
he carried the largest bow, but because self-discipline had
taught him how to bend it Daniel Webster.
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CXXIX. — WAR.
1. Nobody sees a battle. The common soldier fires away
amidst a smoke-mist, or hurries on to the charge in a crowd
which hides everything from him. The officer is too anxious
about the performance of what he is specially charged with to
mind what others are doing. The commander cannot be present
everywhere, and see every wood, water-course or ravine,®1 in
which his orders are carried into execution : he learns from his
reports how the work goes on. It is well: for a battle is one
of those jobs which men do without daring to look upon.
2. Over miles of country, at every field-fence, in every
gorge®1 of a valley or entry into a wood, there is murder com
mitting — wholesale, continuous, recip'rocal murder. The human
form — God's image — is mutilated, deformed, lacerated,EI in
every possible way, and with every variety of torture. The
wounded®1 are jolted off in carts to the rear, their bared nerves
crushed into maddening pain at every stone or rut; or the flight
and pursuit trample over them, leaving them to writhe and roar
without assistance—and fever and thirst, the most enduring of
painful sensations, possess-them entirely.
3. Thirst, too, has seized upon the yet able-bodied soldier, who,
with bloodshot eyes, and tongue lolling out, plies his trade —
blaspheming, killing, with savage delight, callous®1 when the
brains of his best-loved comrade®1 are spattered over him. The
battle-field is, if possible, a more painful object of contemplation
than the combatants.38 They are in their vocation, earning their
bread; — what will not men do for a shilling a day ? But their
work is carried on amid the fields, gardens, and homesteads of
men unused to war. They who are able have fled before the
coming storm. The poor, the aged, the sick, aare left in the
hurry, to be killed by stray shots, or beaten down as the charge
and counter-charge go over them.
4. The ripening grain is trampled down; the garden is trod'
den into a black mud; the fruit-trees, bending benea^A their
luscious load, are shattered by the cannon-shot. Churches and
private dwellings are used as fortresses, and ruined in the com
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flict. Bams and stack-yards catch, fire, and the conflagration
spreads on all sides. At night the steed is stabled beside the
altar ; and the weary homicides"1 of the day complete the wreck¬
ing of houses to make their lairs"1 for slumber. The fires of the
bivouac"1 complete what the fires kindled by the battle have left
un consumed.
5. The surviving soldiers march on to act the same scenes
over again elsewhere; and the remnant of the scattered inhabit¬
ants return to find the mangled bodies of those they had loved,
amid the blackened ruins of homes ; to mourn with more agon¬
izing grief over the missing, of whose fate they are uncertain;
to feel themselves bankrupts of the world's stores, and look from
their children to the desolate fields and gamers, and think of
famine, and pestilence engendered by the rotting bodies of the
half-buried myriads of slain.
6. The soldier marches on and on, inflicting and suffering as
before. War is a continuance of battles — an epidemic"1 strid¬
ing from place to place, more horrible than the typhus, pesti¬
lence or cholera, which not unfrequently follow in its train.
The siege is an aggravation of the battle. The peaceful inhabit¬
ants of the beleaguered"1 town are cooped up, and cannot fly the
place of conflict. The mutual injuries inflicted by the assailant
and assailed are aggravated — their wrath is more frenzied;
then come the storm and the capture, and the riot and lust¬
ful excesses of the victor soldiery, striving to quench the drunk¬
enness of blood in the drunkenness of wine.
7. The eccentric"1 movements of war — the marching and
countermarching — often repeat the blow on districts slowly re¬
covering from the first. Between destruction and the wasteful
consumption of the soldiery, poverty pervades the land. Hope-
loss of the future, hardened by the scenes of which he is a daily
witness, perhaps goaded by revenge, the peasant becomes a
plunderer and assassin. The horrible cruelties perpetrated by
Spanish peasants on the French soldiers who fell rnto their
power were the necessary consequences of war.
8. The families of the upper classes are dispersed; the disci
pline of the family circle is removed; a habit of living in the daj
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for the day — of drowning the thoughts of the morrow in tran¬
sient and illicit®1 pleasure — is engendered.®1 The waste and
desolation which a battle spreads over the battle-field is as
nothing when compared with the moral blight which war diffuses
through all ranks of society, in the country which is the scenfl
of war
9. Such is war, with its sufferings and consequential sorrows
Such is war in Christian and civilized Europe — war in an age
and countries in which most has been done to subject88 it to
regular laws, and to alleviate its horrors by the moral self-
control and refinement of its agents.
10. Whitewash it as we will, it still remains full of dead
men's bones and rottenness within. And they who trust most
to it will be sure to feel most severely that it is an engine the
direction and efficacy of which defy calculation — which is as
apt to recoil upon those who explode it as to carry destruction
into the ranks of their adversaries. London Spectato*
CXXX. — OX THE CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
1. Napoleon understood his business. Here was a man who,
in each moment and emergency, knew what to do next. It is an
immense comfort and refreshment to the spirits, not only of
kings, but of citizens. Few men have any next; they live from
hand to mouth, without plan, and are ever at the end of their
line, and, after each action, wait for an impulse from abroad.
Napoleon had been the first man of the world, if his ends had
been purely public. As he is, he inspires confidence and vigor
by the extraordinary unity of his action.
2. He is firm, sure, self-denying, self-postponing, sacrificing
everything to his aim — money, troops, generals, and his owd
safety also; not misled, like common adventurers, by the splen¬
dor of his own means. " Incidents ought not to govern policy,"
he said, " but policy incidents." " To be hurried away by every
event, is to have no political system at all." His victories were
only so many doors, and he never for a moment lost sight of his
way onward, in the dazzle and uproar of the present circum-
288
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
stance He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark. He
would snorten a straight line to come at his object.
3. Horrible anecdotes may, no doubt, be collected from his
history, of the price at which he bought his successes; but he-
must not therefore be set down as cruel, but only as one who
knew no impediment to his will; not blood-thirsty, not cruel —
but woe to what thing or person stood in his way ; not blood¬
thirsty, but not sparing of blood, and pitiless. He saw only the
object: the obstacle must give way. " Sire, General Clarke
cannot combine with General Junofc,EJ for the dreadful fire of the
Austrian battery." — " Let him carry the battery." — " Sire,
every regiment that approaches the heavy artillery is sacrificed.
Sire, what orders ? " — " Forward, forward ! "
4. In the plenitude of his resources every obstacle seemed to
vanish. "There shall be no Alps," he said; and he built his
perfect roads, climbing by graded galleries their steepest preci¬
pices, until Italy was as open to Paris as any town in France.
Having decided what was to be done, he did that with might and
main. He put out all his strength. He risked everything and
spared nothing — neither ammunition, nor money, nor troops, nor
generals, nor himself.
5. If fighting be the best mode of adjusting national®1 differ¬
ences (as large majorities of men seem to agree),* certainly
Bonaparte was jight in making it thorough. " The grand
principle of war," he said, " was, that an army ought always to be
ready, by day and by night, and at all hours, to make all the
resistance it is capable of making." He never economized his
ammunition, but on a hostile position rained a torrent of iron,
ehells, ball, grape-shot, to annihilate all defence. He went to
the edge of his possibility, so heartily bent was he on his object.
6. It is plain that in Italy he did what he could, and all that
he could; he came several times within an inch of ruin, and his
own person was all but lost. He was flung into the marsh at
Ar'cola. The Austrians were between him and his troops, in the
Vielee,El and he was brought off with desperate efforts. At
* As intelligence increases, and Christian principles prevail, it is to be
hoped that men will not be so unanimous in this agreement.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
289
Lona'to, and at other places, he was on the point of being taken
prisoner.
7. He fought sixty battles. He had never enough. Each
victory was as a new weapon. " My power would fall, were I
not to support it by new achievements. Conquest has made me
what I am, and conquest alone can maintain me." He felt, with
every wise man, that as much life is needed for conservation as
for creation. We are always in peril, always in a bad plight
just on the edge of destruction, and only to be saved by inven¬
tion and courage.
8. This vigor was guarded and tempered by the coldest pru¬
dence and punctuality. A thunderbolt in the attack, he was
found invulnerable in his intrenchments. His very attack was
never the inspiration of courage, but the result of calculation
His idea of the best defence consisted in being still the attackirg
party. " My ambition," he says, " was great, but was of a cold
nature."
9. Everything depended on the nicety of his combinations;
the stars were not more punctual than his arithmetic. His
personal attention descended to the smallest particulars. " At
Montebello 1 ordered Kellermann to attack with eight hundred
horse, and with these he separated the six thousand Hungarian
grenadiers before the very eyes of the Austrian cavalry. This
cavalry was half a league ofiF, and required a quarter of an hour
to arrive on the field of action; and I have observed it is always
those quarters of an hour that decide the fate of a battle."
10. Before he fought a battle, Bonaparte thought little about
what he should do in case of success, but a great deal about what
he should do in case of a reverse of fortune. The same prudence
and good sense marked all his behavior. His instructions to his
secretary at the Tuileries®1 are worth remembering : — " During
the night enter my chamber as seldom as possible. Do not
awake me when you have any good news to communicate ; with
that there is no hurry. But when you bring bad news, rouse
me instantly, for then there is not a moment to be lost."
25 Emerson
290
thk standard tourth header.
cxxxi. — hope—faith — lq^e.
1. There are three lessons 1 would write —
Three words — as with a burning pen,
In tracings of eternal light,
Upon the hearts of men.
2. Have Hope ! — Though clouds environ now,
And gladness hides her face with scorn,
Put thou the shadows from thy brow —
No night but hath its morn.
3. Have Faith! — Where'er thy bark is driven, —
The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth, —
Know this: God rules the hosts of heaven,
The inhabitants of earth.
4. Have Love! — Not love alone for one,—
But man, as man, thy brother call;
And scatter, like the circling sun,
Thy charities on all.
5. Thus grave these lessons on thy soul, —■
Hope, Faith and Love, — and thou shall find
Strength when life's surges wildest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind !
From the German
cxxxii.—elijah's interview.
1. On Horeb's®1 rock the prophet stood, —
The Lord before him passed;
A hurricane in angry mood
Swept by him strong and fast ■
The forest fell before its force,
The rocks were shivered in its course
God was not in the blast;
T was but the whirlwind of his breath,
Announcing danger, wreck, and death.
2 It ceased. The air grew mute, — a cloud
Came, muffling up the sun,
.THE standard fourth reader.
29
When, through the mountain, deep and loud
An earthquake thundered on;
The frightened eagle sprang in air.
The wolf ran howling from his lair;
God was not in the storm;
'T was but the rolling of his car,
The tramping of his steeds from far.
8. 'T was still again, — and Nature stood
And calmed her ruffled frame ;
When swift from heaven a fiery flood
To earth devouring came;
Down to the depth the ocean fled, —
The sickening sun looked wan™ and dead :
Yet God filled not the flame;
'T was but the terror of his eye,
That lightened through the troubled sky.
4. At last, a voice all still and small
Rose sweetly on the ear;
Yet rose so shrill and clear, that all
In heaven and earth might hear;
It spoke of peace, it spoke of love,
It spoke as angels speak above:
And God himself was there;
For, 0 ! it was a Fathers voice,
That bade the trembling heart rejoice.
Anon.
CXXXIII. —INTERVIEW OP RASSELAS, HIS SISTER NEK ATA;
AND IMLAC, WITH THE HERMIT.
1. They came on the third day, by the direction of the peas¬
ants, to the hermit's cell: it was a cavern in the side of tin-
mountain, overshadowed with palm-trees. The hermit sat on a
bench at the door,58 to enjoy the coolness of the evening. Ob
one side lay a book146 with pens and paper, on the other mechan
ical instrumeT^.v of various kinds.
2. They saluted him with great respect, which he returned
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
like a man not unaccustomed to the forms of courts. "My
children," said he, " if you have lost your way, you shall ba
willingly supplied with such conveniences for the night as this
cavern will afford. I have all that nature requires, and you
will not expect delicacies in a hermit's cell."
3. They thanked him; and, entering, were pleased with the
neatness and regularity of the place. His discourse was cheer¬
ful without levity, and pious without enthusiasm.
4. At last Imlac began thus: " I do not now wonder that your
reputation is so far extended; we have heard at Cairo151 of your
wisdom, and came hither to implore your direction for this young
man and maiden in the choice of life."
5. " To him that lives well," answered the hermit, " every
form of life is good; nor can I give any other rule for choice,
than to remove from all appar'ent138 evil."
6. " He will remove most certainly from evil," said the prince,
" who shall devote himself to that solitude13 which you have
recommended by your example."
7. " 1 have indeed lived fifteen years in solitude," said the
hermit, " but have no desire that my example should gain any
imitators. In my youth I professed arms, and was raised by
degrees to the highest military rank. I have traversed wide
countries at the head of my troops, and seen many battles and
sieges.
8. " At last, being disgusted by the preferments of a younger
officer, and feelm^ that my vigor was beginning to decay, I
resolved to close my life in peace, having found the world full of
snares, discord and misery. 1 had once escaped from the pursuit
of the enemy by the shelter of this cavern, and therefore®1 chose
it.for my final residence. I employed artificers to form it into
chambers, and stored it with all that I was likely to want.
9. " For some time after my retreat, I rejoiced like a tempest-
beaten sailor at his entrance into the harbor, being delighted with
the sudden33 change of the noise and hurry of war to stillness
and repose. When the pleasure of novelty went away, I era
ployed my hours in examining the plants which grow in the
valley, and the minerals which I collected from the rocks
TUB STANDARD FOURTH READER.
293
10. " But that inqui'ry is now grown tasteless and irksome.
/ have been for some time unsettled and distracted: my mind is
disturbed with a thousand perplexities of doubt and vanities of
imagination, which hourly prevail upon me, because I have no
opportunities of relaxation or diversion. I am sometimes ashamed
to think that I could not secure myself from vice but by retir¬
ing from the exercise of virtue, and begin to suspect that I was
rather impelled by resentment, than led by devotion, into solitude.
11. " My fancy riots in scenes of folly, and I lament that I
have lost so much, and have gained so little. In solitude, if I
escape the example of bad men, I want likewise the counsel and
conversation of the good. I have been long comparing the evils
with the advantages of society, and resolve to return into the
world to-morrow. The life of a solitary man will be certainly
miserable, but not certainly devout."
12. They heard his resolution with surprise, but, after a short
pause, offered to conduct him to Cairo. He dug up a consider¬
able treasure which he had hid among the rocks, and accompanied
them to the city, on which, as he approached it, he gazed with
rapture. Johnson.
CXXXIV.—VALUE OF A GOOD CHARACTER.
1. During the war of independence in North America, a plain
farmer, Richard Jackson by name, was apprehended under such
circumstances as proved, beyond all doubt, his purpose of joining
the king's forces; an intention which he was too honest to deny.
Accordingly, he was delivered over to the high sheriff, and com¬
mitted to the county jail. The prison was in such a state that he
might have found little difficulty in escaping; but he considered
himself as in the hands of authority, such as it was, and the
same principle of duty which led him to take arms made him
equally ready to endure the consequences.
2. After lying there a few days, he applied to the sheriff for
leave to go out and work by day, promising that he would return
regularly at night. His character for simple integrity was so
well known, that permission was given, without hesitation ; and,
for eight mouths, Jackson went out every day to labor, and as
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duly came back to prison at night. In the month of May the
sheriff prepared to conduct him to Springfield, where he was to be
tried for high treason. Jackson said this would be a needless
trouble and expense; he could sawe the sheriff both, and go just
as well by himself.
3. His word was once more taken, and he set off alone, to
present' himself for trial and certain condemnation. On the
way he was overtaken in the woods by Mr. Edwards, a member
of the Council of Massachusetts, which, at that time, was the
supreme exee'utive of the state. This gentleman asked him
Either he was going. * To Springfield, sir," was his answer,
" to be tried for my life."
4. To this casual interview Jackson owed his escape, when,
having been found guilty, and condemned to death, application
was made to the Council for mercy. The evidence and the sen¬
tence were stated, and the president put the question whether a
pardon should be granted. It was opposed by the first speaker:
the case, he said, was perfectly clear; the act was unquestion¬
ably high treason, and the proof complete; and if mercy were
shown in this case, he saw no reason why it should not bo
granted in every other.
5. Few governments have understood how just and politic it
is to be merciful: this hard-hearted opinion accorded with the
temper of the times, and was acquiesced in by one member after
another, till it came to Mr. Edwards's turn to speak. Instead
of delivering his opinion, he simply related the whole story of
Jackson's singular demeanor, and what had passed between them
in the woods.
6. For the honor of Massachusetts, and of human nature, not
a man was found to weaken its effect by one of those dry legal
remarks, which, like a blast of the desert, wither the heart they
reach. The Council began to hesitate, and when a member
ventured to say that such a man certainly ought not to be sent
to the gallows, a natural feeling of humanity and justice pre¬
vailed, and a pardon was immediately made out.
7. Never was a stronger proof exhibited®1 that honesty is
wisdom And yet, it was not the man's honesty, but his child-
the standard fourth reader. 29t
like simplicity, which saved his life ; without that simplicity hi?
integrity would have availed him little: in fact, it was his
crime; for it was for doing what, according to the principles
wherein he had been born and bred, he believed to be his duty,
that he was brought to trial and condemned. — This it is which
renders civil and religious wars so peculiarly dreadful; and, in
the history of such wars, every incident which serves to recon«
rile us to humanity ought carefully to be preserved.
London Quarterly Revivw.
CXXXV. EARLY PIETY.
1. By cool Si-lo'am'sEI shady rill
How sweet the lily grows"!
How sweet the breath benea£^ the hill
Of Shfiron'sEI dewy rose !
2. Lo ! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod ;
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
Is upward drawn to God.
3. By cool Siloam's shady rill
The lily must decay,
The rose that blooms beneath the hill
Must shortly fade away.
4 And soon, too soon, the wintry hour
Of man's maturer age
Will shake the soul with sorrow's power,
And stormy passion's rage.
5. 0 ! Thou, whose infant feet were found
Within thy Father's shrine,
Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned,
Were all alike divine, —
6. Dependent on thy bounteous breath,
We seek thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age and death,
To keep us still thine own. Bishop Hebbl
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the standard fourth reader.
CXXXVI.— FALSE NOTIONS IN REGARD TO GENIUS.
1. The labors requisite to form the public speaker are by no
means duly appreciated. An absurd idea prevails among our
scholars, that the finest productions of the mind are the fruits of
hasty impulse, the unfoldings of a sudden thought, the brief vis¬
itations of a fortunate hour or evening, the flashings of intuition,
or the gleamings of fancy. Genius is often compared to light¬
ning from the cloud, or the sudden bursting out of a secret
fountain.
2. And eloquence is regarded as if it were a kind of inspira¬
tion. When a man has made a" happy effort, he is next possessed
with an absurd ambition to have it thought that it cost him
nothing. He will say, perhaps, that it was a three hours' work.
Now, it is not enough to maintain that nothing could be more
injurious to our youth than this way of thinking; for the truth
is, that nothing can be more false.
3. The mistake lies in confounding with the mere arrange¬
ment of thoughts, or the manual labor of putting them on
paper, the long previous preparation of mind, the settled habits
of thought. It has taken but' three hours, perhaps, to compose
an admirable piece of poetry, or a fine speech; but the reflections
of three years, or of thirty, may have been tending to that
result. Dewey.
CXXXVII. — INDUSTRY.
1. All the comely, the stately, the pleasant, the useful works,
which we do view with delight, or enjoy with comfort, Industry
did contrive them, Industry did frame them. Industry reared
those magnificent fabrics, and those commodious houses; it
formed those goodly pictures and statues; it raised those conve¬
nient causeways, those bridges, those aqueducts ; it planted those
fine gardens with various flowers and fruits; it clothed those
pleasant fields with corn and grass; it built those ships, whereby
wo plough the seas, reaping the commodities of foreign nations.
2. It hath subjected all creatures to our command and ser-
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297
vije, enabling us to subdue the fiercest, to catch, the wildest, to
render the gentler sort more tractable and useful to us. It
taught us, from the wool of the sheep, from the hair of the goat
from the labors of the silk-worm, to weave us clothes, to keep us
warm, and make us fine and gay. It helpeth us from the inmost
bowels of the earth to feteh divers needful tools and uten'sils.
3. It collected mankind into cities, and compacted them into
orderly societies, and devised wholesome laws, under shelter
whereof we enjoy safety and peace, wealth and plenty, mutual
succor and defence, sweet conversation and beneficial commerce.
It, by meditation did invent all those sciences whereby oui
minds are enriched and ennobled, our manners are refined and
polished, our curiosity is satisfied, our life is benefited.
Isaac Barrow.
CXXXVIII.J—PETER THE GREAT AND THE DESERTER.
scene ii.
stanmitz — mrs. stanmitz peter the great officer.
(For the preceding scene, see page 211.)
Stanmitz. Well, mother, I must n't be skulking about here
in Moscow any longer. I must leave y6u, and go back to Hol¬
land to my trade. At the risk of my life I came here, and at
the risk of my life I must go back.
Mrs. Stanmitz. Ah! Michael, Michael, if it had n't beein for
your turning deserter, you might have been a corporal by this
time!
Sta. Look you, mother, — I was made a soldier against
my will, and the more I saw of a soldier's life the more I hated
it. As a poor journeyman carpenter, I am at least free and inde¬
pendent ; and if you will come with me to Holland, you. shall
take care of my wages and keep house for me.
Mrs. S. I should be a drag upon you, Michael. You will be
wanting to get married, by and by ; moreover, it will be hard fox
me to leave the old home at my time of life.
Sta. Some one is knocking at the door. Wait, mother,
till I have concealed myself. [Enter Peter the Great, disguised.
'208
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Peter. What, ho ! comrade ! No skulking! Come out from
behind that screen ! Didn't I see you through the window, as i
passed ?
Sta. Is it possible ? Peter! My old fellow-workman!
Give us your hand, my hearty! How came you to be here in
Moscow ? There is no ship-building going on so far inland.
Pet. No; but there is at St. Petersburg, the new city that
the Czar"1 is building up.
Sta They say the Czar is in Moscow just now.
Pet. Yes, he passed through your street this morning.
Sta. So I heard. But I did n't see him. I say, Peter, how
did you find me out ?
Pet. Why, happening to see your mother's sign over the
door, it occurred to me, after I returned to the palace —
Sta. The palace ?
Pet. Yes; I always call the place where I put up a palace.
It is a way I have.
Sta. You always were a funny fellow, Peter!
Pet. As I was saying, it occurred to me that Mrs. Stanmitz
might be the mother or aunt of my old messmate; and so I put
on this disguise —
Sta. Ha, ha! Sure enough, it is a disguise — the disguise
of a gentleman. Peter, where did you get such fine clothes ?
Pet. Don't interrupt me, sir!
Sta. Don't joke in that way again, Peter! Do you know you
half frightened me by the stern tone in which you said
•' Don't interrupt me, sir! " But I see how it is, Peter, and I
thank you. You thought you could learn something of your
old friend, and so stopped to inquire, and saw me through the
window.
Pet. Ah ! Stanmitz, many's the big log we have chopped at
together through the long summer day in Yon Blook's ship-yard.
Sta. That we have, Peter! Why not go back with me to
Saardam ?
Pet. I can get better wages at St. Petersburg.
Sta. If it were n't that I'm afraid of being overhauled for
taking that long walk away from my post, I would go to St
Petersburg with you. .
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299
Pet. How happened you to venture back here?
Sta. TV hy, you must know that this old mother of mine
wanted to see me badly; and then I had left behind here a sweet¬
heart. Don't laugh, Peter! She has waited all this while for
me ; and the misery of it is that I am too poor to take her along
with me yet. But next year, if my luck continues, I mean to
return and marry her.
Pet. What if I should inform against you ? I could make a
pretty little sum by exposing a deserter.
Sta. Don't joke on that subject! You'll frighten the old
woman. Peter, old boy, I'm so glad to see you Halloo !
Soldiers at the door! What does this mean ? An officer ?
Peter, excuse me, but I must leave you.
Pet. Stay! I give you my word it is not you they want.
They are friends of mine.
Sta. 0 ! if that's the case, I '11 stay. But do you know one
of those fellows looks wonderfully like my old commanding officer ?
[Enter Officer.]
Offiicer. A dispatch from St. Petersburg, your majesty, claim
ing your instant attention.
Mrs. S. Majesty!
Sta. Majesty! I say, Peter, what does he mean by
majesty ?
Officer. Knave! Know you not that this is the Czar?
Sta. What! — Eh?—This?—Nonsense! This is my old
friend Peter.
Officer. Down on your knees, rascal, to Peter the Great, Czar
of Russia!EI
Mrs. S. 0 ! your majesty, your majesty, don't hang the poor
boy He knew no better ! He knew no better! He is my only
son! Let him be whipped, but don't hang him !
Sta. Nonsense, mother ! This is only one of Peter's jokes.
Ha, ha, ha! You keep it up well, though. And those are
dispatches you are reading, Peter !
Officer. Rascal ! Dare you interrupt his majesty ? -
Sta. Twice you've called me rascal. Don't you think that'i
being rather familiar? Peter, have you any objection to my
pitching your friend out of the window ?
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THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Officer. Ha ! Now I look closer, I remember you! Soldiers,
arrest this fellow! He's a deserter!
Sta. It's all up with me! And there stands Peter, as calm
as if nothing had happened.
Mrs. S. I'm all in a maze ! Good Mr. Officer, spare the poor
boy!
Officer. He must go before a court-martial. He must be
shot.
Mrs. S. 0 ! woe is me! woe is me ! That ever my poor boy
should be shot!
Pet. Officer, I have occasion for the services of your prisoner.
Release him.
Officer. Your majesty's will is absolute.
Sta. (Aside.) Majesty again 7 What does it all mean ? A
light breaks in upon me. There were rumors in Holland, when I
left, that the Czar had been working in one of the ship-yards
Can my Peter be the emperor 7
Pet. Stanmitz, you have my secret now.
Sta. And you are —
Pet. The emperor! Rise, old woman; — your son, Baron
Stanmitz, is safe !
Mrs. S. Baron Stanmitz !
Pet. I want him to superintend my ship-yard at St. Peters¬
burg. No words. Prepare, both of you, to leave for the new
city to-morrow. Baron Stanmitz, make that sweetheart of
yours a Baroness this very evening, and bring her with you.
No words. I have business claiming my care, or I would stop
and see the wedding. Here is a purse of duc'ats. One of my
secretaries will call with orders in the morning. Farewell.
Sta. 0, Peter! Peter! — I mean your majesty! your
majesty! — I'm in such a bewilderment!
Mrs. S. Down on your knees, Michael! — I mean Baron
Stanmitz! Down on your knees !
Sta. What! to my old friend, Peter — him that I used to
wrestle with? — Excuse me, your majesty — I mean, friend
Peter— Czar Peter — I can't begin to realize it! 'T ifl all so
jke things we dream of.
the standard e0drth reader.
301
Pet. Ha, ha! Good-by, messmate! We shall meet again in
ihe morning. Commend me to your sweetheart. [Exit,
ista. Mr. Officer, that court-martial you spoke of is n't likely
to come off.
Officer. Baron, I am your very humHe servant. I hope,
Baron, you will speak a good word for me to his majesty when
opportunity offers. I humbly take my leave of your excellency.
Anon.
CXXXIX. — CHILDHOOD AND HIS VISITORS.
1. Once on a time, when sunny May
Was kissing at the April showers,
I saw fair Childhood hard at play
Upon a bank of blushing flowers;
Happy, — he knew not whence or how;
And smiling, — who could choose but love him ?
For not more glad than Childhood's brow
Was the blue heaven that breathed above him.
2 Old Time, in most appalling wrath,
That valley's green repose invaded;
The brooks grew dry upon his path,
The birds grew mute, the lilies faded}
But Time so swiftly winged his flight.
In haste a Grecian tomb to batter,
That Childhood watched his paper kite,
And knew just nothing of the matter.
3 Then stepped a gloomy phantom up,
Pale, cypress-crowned, Night's awful daughter,
And proffered him a fearful cup,
Full to the brim of bitter water;
Poor Childhood bS.de her tell her name,
And when the beldame muttered " Sorrow,"
He said — "Don't interrupt my game!
I '11 taste it, if I must, to-morrow."
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the standard vourth reader.
4. The Muse of PindusEI thither came,
And wooed him with the softest numbers
That ever scattered wealth and fame
Upon a youthful poet's slumbers;
Though sweet the music of the lay,
To Childhood it was all a riddle,
And, " 0 ! " he cried, " do send away
That noisy woman with the fiddle ! "
5 Then Wisdom stole his bat and ball,
Aud taught him, with most sage endeavor,
Why bubbles rise and acorns fall,
And why no toy may last forever;
She talked of all the wondrous laws
Which Nature's open book discloses,
And Childhood, ere she made a pause,
Was fast asleep among the roses. Anon.
CXL.—THE CHRISTIAN MARINER.
1, '' Launch thy bark, mariner! Christian, God speed thee
Let loose the rudder-bands — good angels lead thee
Set thy sails warily — tempests will come;
Steer thy course steadily — Christian, steer home!
2 "Look to the weather-bow* — breakers are round thee;
Let fall the plummet now — shallows may ground thee
Reef in the foresail, there! hold the helwz fast!
So — let the vessel wearEI — there swept the blast.
3 " What of the night, watchman ? what of the night ? M—
" Cloudy — all quiet — no land yet — all's right."—
"Be wakeful — be vigilant—danger may be
At an hour when all seemeth securest to thee.
4. " How! gains the leak so fast ? Clear out the hold!
Hoist up the merchandise; heave out the gold;
There let the ingots®1 go ! Now the ship rights;
Huzza the harbor's near! Lo ! the red lights !
* The ow of this word comes under the third compound rowel sound. Sd
the f seroises page 43.
the standard fourth reader.
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5. " Slacken not sail yet at inlet or island;
Straight for the beacon steer — straight for the highland ;
Crowd all thy canvas on — cut through the foam —
Christian, cast anchor now! Heaven is thy home !"
Mrs. Socirkf
CXLI. THE POOR WEEP UNHEEDED.
1. No observation is more common, and at the same time nior j
true, than that one half of the world are ignorant how the other
half lives. The misfortunes of the great are held up to engage our
attention ; are enlarged upon in tones of declamation; and the
world is oalled upon to gaze at the noble sufferers: the great,
under the pressure of calamity, are conscious of several others
sympathizing with their distress; and have, at once, the com-
fort of admiration and pity.
2. There is nothing magnanimous in bearing misfortunes with
fortitude, when the whole world is looking on; men in such cir
Bumstances will act bravely, even from motives of vanity: but
ne who, in the veil of obscurity, can brave adversity; who, with
out friends to encourage, acquaintances to pity, or even without
hope to alleviate his misfortunes, can behave with tranquillity
and indifference, is truly great; whether peasant or courtier, he
deserves admiration, and should be held up for our imitation
and respect.
3. While the slightest inconveniences of the great are magni¬
fied into calamities, while tragedy mouths out their sufferings in
all the strains of eloquence, the miseries of the poor are entirely
disregarded; and yet some of the lower ranks of people undergo
more real hardships in one day than those of a more exalted
station suffer in their whole lives.
4. It is inconceivable what difficulties the meanest of our
common sailors and soldiers endure without murmuring or
regret; without passionately declaiming against Providence, or
calling their fellows to be gazers on their intrepidity. Every
day is to them a day of misery; and yet they entertain their
hard fate without repining.
5. With what indignation do I hear an Ovid,EI a Cicero,*1 or
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a Kabutin,®1 complain of their misfortunes and hardships, whose
greatest calamity was that of being unable to visit a certain
spot of earth, to which they had foolishly attached an idea of
happiness!
6. Their distresses were pleasures, compared to what many
of the adventuring poor every day endure without murmuring.
They ate, drank, and slept; they had slaves to attend them;
and were sure of subsistence for life; while many of their fel¬
low-creatures are obliged to wander without a friend to comfort
or assist them, and even without shelter from the severity of
the season. Goldsmith.
CXLII.—THE PARROT.
This incident, so strongly illustrating the power of memory and assoeia-
tion in the lower animals, is not a fiction. I heard it many years ago in the
- [aland of Mull, from the family to whom the bir d belonged.
L The deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts,
Are not exclusively possessed
By human hearts.
2. A parrot from the Spanish Main,
Full young and early caged, came o'er
With bright wings to the bleak domain
Of Mulla's shore.
3. The spicy groves where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue,
His native fruits, and skies, and sun,
He bade adieu!
4. For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky,
And turned on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.
5. But, petted in our climate cold,
He lived and chattered many a day ;
lentil, with age, from green and gold,
Ilis wings grew gray.
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6. At last, when, blind and seeming dumb,
He scolded, laughed, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mulla's shore.
7. He hailed the bird in Spanish speech;
The bird in Spanish speech replied,
Flapped round his cage with joyous screech,
Dropped down, and died.
Campbell.
CXLIII. — THE TWO WAYS.
1. In a village on the Rhine, a schoolmaster was one day
teaching in his school; and the sons and daughters of the vil¬
lagers sat around listening with pleasure, for his teaching was
healthful and kindly. He was speaking of the good and bad
conscience, and of the still voice of the heart. After he had
finished speaking, he asked his pupils, "Who among you is able
to tell me a parable®1 on this matter ? " One of the boys stood
forth, and said, " I think I can tell a parable, but I do not know
whether it be right."
2. " Speak in your own words," answered the master. And
the boy began : "I compare the calmness of a good conscience,
and the disquietude of an evil one, to two ways on which I
walked once. When the enemy passed through our village, the
soldiers carried off by force my dear father and our horse.
When my father did not come back, my mother and all of us
wept and. mourned bitterly, and she sent me to the town to
inquire for my father. I went; but late at night I came back
sorrowfully, for I had not found my father.
8. " It was a dark night in autumn. The wind roared and
howled in the oaks and firs, and between the rocks; the night-
ravens and owls were shrieking and hooting. And I thought in
my soul how we had lost my father, and of the misery of my
mother when she should see me return alone. A strange trem¬
bling seized me in the dreary night, and each rustling leaf terrified
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me. Then I thought to myself, ' Such must be the feelings of
a man's heart who has a bad conscience.'"
4. " My children," said the master, " would you like to walk
iu the darkness of night, seeking in vain for your dear father,
and hearing naught but the roar of the storm, and the screams
of the beasts of prey?" — " 0, no !" exclaimed all the children,
shuddering. Then the boy resumed his tale, and said : " Another
time I went the same way with my sister; we had been fetching
many nice things from town for a feast which our father was
secretly preparing for our mother, to surprise her the next day.
It was late when we returned, but it was in spring; the sky
was bright and clear, and all was so calm that we could hear
the gentle murmur of the rivulet by the way, and on all sides
the nightingales were singing.
5. " I was walking hand in hand with my sister; but we were
so delighted that we hardly liked to speak. Then our good
father came to meet us. Now I thought again to myself, 'Such
must be the state of the man who has done much good.'" When
the boy had finished his tale, the master looked kindly at the
children, and they said, unanimously, "Yes, we will strive to
become good! " Krummacher.
CXLIV. — MISCELLANEOUS EXTRACTS.
1. The Effect of Unbelief. — Try to conceive a man without
the ideas of Glod, eternity, freedom, will, absolute truth, — of the
good, the true, the beautiful, the infinite, — an animal, endowed
with a memory of appearances and facts, might remain ; but the
man will have vanished, and you have instead a creature more
subtle®1 than any beast of the field; upon the belly must it go,
and dust must it eat, all the days of its life! When once in¬
fidelity can persuade men that they shall die like beasts, they
will soon be brought to live like beasts also. — Anon.
2. Youthful Neglect. — If it should ever fall to the lot of
youth to peruse these pages, let such readers remember that it
is with the deepest regret that I recollect, in my manhood, th«
opportunities of learning which I neglected in my youth; that
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through every part of my literary career I have felt pinched
and hampered by my own ignorance; and I would this moment
give half the reputation I have had the good fortune to acquire,
if by doing so I could rest the remaining part upon a sound
foundation of learning and science. — Sir Walter Scott.
3. Education. — "Without education," says Luther, "men
are as bears and wolves." Is it not the clearest duty, prescribed
by nature herself, under silent but real. and awful penalties, on
governing persons in every society, to see that the people, so far
as possible, are taught; that wherever a citizen is born some
chance be offered him of becoming " a man," and not " a bear or
wolf; " and more care be had that the intellect of such citizen,
which is the sacred lamp of heaven, and (in the* truest sense)
God's own " revelation " to him, be not left smothered under
dark ignorances, sensualities, and sordid obstructions, but made
to shine for him, and guide his steps toward a good goal ? This
is forever the duty of governors and persons of authority in
human societies. —Carlyle.
4. Industry. — If industry is no more' than habit, it is at
least an excellent one. If you ask me which is the real heredi¬
tary sin of human nature, do you imagine I shall answer pride.
Or luxury, or ambition, or egotism? No; I shall say indolence.
Who conquers indolence, will conquer all the rest. All good
principles must stagnate without mental activity. — Zimmerman.
5. Literary Vanit;?.—There is much knowledge of human
nature, as well as keen satire, in the tale which Addison tells
of the atheist, who, bewailing on his death-bed the mischief his
works would do after he was gone, quickly repented of his re¬
pentance when his spiritual adviser unhappily sought to alleviate
his grief by assuring him that his arguments were so weak, and
his writings so little known, that he need be under no apprehen¬
sions. " The dying man had still so much of the frailty of an
author in him, as to be cut to the heart with these consola¬
tions ; and, without answering the good man, asked his friends
where they had picked up such a blockhead; and whether they
thought him a proper person to attend one in his condition."
Edinburgh Review.
308
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6. The Mind is its Own Place. — We all seem rather to
inhabit ourselves than dwell anywhere else. The world within
is our home and constant abode. Our thoughts are our mansion,
our food, our wealth, and inheritance. Everything is viewed
through the medium of thought. Here, the present world, the
world to come, ourselves, our friends, our foes, and even the
Deity, are reflected, surveyed, and contem'plated, and hence to
have peace within is heaven. When all is tranquil around, the
inind may be like the troubled sea; and, on the contrary, the
last thunder may roar, the earth quake, and the heavens dissolve
and melt with fervent heat, and yet the soul, far from feeling
the least alarm, may exult and sing. — Anon.
7. The French Revolution and the American. — After
sickening over the horrors of that dreadful period, — the
butchery, I do not say of kings and queens, but of gray-haired
men, of women, of priests, — the atrocities of the human tigers
who preyed on the life-blood of France, and dared to invoke
the sacred name of republican liberty as the cover of their
abominations, — I am fain to turn for relief to the pages of our
own revolutionary history ; to gather renewed hope for constitu¬
tional freedom from the writings of Madison, Hamilton, and Jay;
new lessons of true patriotism from the story of Warren, of Put¬
nam, and Prescott; new faith in humanity from the spotless
career of Washington.
I make the transition with feelings like those whieh one ex¬
periences when, after wandering for hours through the dark,
dripping, narrow passages of a dismal mine, — deafened with
the clank of enginery and the roar of subterranean waters,
oppressed with the grave-like heaviness and chill of the air,
choked with sul'phurous vapors, and groping your way in con¬
tinual danger of an explosion which will bury you beneafA a
mountain mass of ruin,—you come up at last to the open,
blessed sky, tread beneath you the safe and solid ground, feel
in every limb the genial warmth of the sun, listen to the cheer¬
ful notes of birds, and breathe an atmosphere loaded with all the
fragrance of June. — Everett.
8. Duty. - - A life of duty is the only cheerful life — for all
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER. 809
joy springs from the affections ; and it is the great law of nature,
that without good deeds all good affection dies, and the heart
becomes utterly desolate. The external world, too, then loses
all its beauty; poetry fades away from earth; for what is
poetry but the reflection of all pure and sweet, all high and lofty
thoughts ? But where duty is
" Flowers laugh beneath her in their beds,
And fragrance in her footing treads ;
She doth preserve the stars from wrong,
And the most ancient heavens through her are fresh and strong."
9. Little Things. — Springs are little things, but they are
sources of large streams; a helm is a little thing, but it governs
the course of a ship; a bridle-bit is a little thing, but see its use
and powers ; nails and pegs are little things, but they hold the
parts of large buildings together; a word, a look, a smile, a
frown, are all little things, but powerful for good or evil
Think of this, and mind the little things. Pay that little debt;
it is a promise, redeem it — it is a shilling, hand it over; you
know not what important events hang upon it. Keep your word
sacredly — keep it to children ; they will mark it sooner than
any one else; and the effects will probably be as lasting as life.
Mind the little things. — Arum.
10. Veracity a Moral Law. — We are so constituted that
obedience to the law of veracity is absolutely necessary to our
happiness. Were we to lose either our feeling of obligation to
tell the truth, or our disposition to receive as truth whatever is
told to us, there would at once be an end to all science and all
knowledge, beyond that which every man had obtained by his
own personal observation and experience. No man could piofit
by the discoveries of his contemporaries,EI much less by the dis¬
coveries of those men who have gone before him. Language
would be useless, and we should be but little removed from the
brutes. Every one must be aware, upon the slightest reflection,
that a community of entire liars could not exist in a state of
society. The effects of such a course of conduct upon the whole
show us what is the will of the Creator in the individual case.
— President Wayland.
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CXLV.—HANNIBAL'S" OATH.
And the night was dark and calm, there was not a breath of air ;
The leaves of the grove were still, as * the presence of death was there
Only a moaning sound came from the distant sea ;
It was as if, like life, it had no tranquillity.
A warrior and a child passed through the sacred wood,
Which, like a mystery, around the temple stood.
The warrior's brow was worn with the weight of casque and plume,
Ani sunburnt was his cheek, and his eye and brow were gloom.
The child was young and fair, but the forehead large and high,
And the dark eyes' flashing light seemed to feel their destiny.
They entered in the temple, and stood before the shrine ;
It streamed with the victim's blood, with incense and with wine.
The ground rocked beneath their feet, the thunder shook the dome ;
Cut the boy stood firm, and swore eternal hate to Rome.
There's a page in history o'er which tears of blood were wept,
And that page was the record how that oath of hate was kept.
Miss Lando*
CXLYI. — ELOQUENCE OE CREATION.
1. The heavens declare the glory of God;
The firmament showeth forth the work of his hands.
Day uttereth instruction unto day,
And night showeth knowledge unto night.
They have no speech nor language,
And their voice is not heard;
Yet their sound goeth forth to all the earth,
And their words to the ends of the world.
2. In them hath He set a tabernacle for the sun,
Which cometh forth, like a bridegroom, from his chamber.
And rejoiceth, like a strong man, to run his course.
He goeth forth from the extremity of heaven,
And maketh his circuit to the end of it;
And nothing is hid from his heat.
3. The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul ■,
The precepts of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple
* An olliptical form of expression for cu if. Sec H 194, page 68.
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3)1
The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart;
The commandments of the Lord are pure, enlightening the eyes
The service of the Lord is clean, enduring forever ;
The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.
More precious are they than gold; yea, than much fine gold
Sweeter than honey and the honey-comb.
By them also is thy servant warned,
And in keeping of them there is great reward.
4. Who knoweth his own offences?
0, cleanse thou me from secret faults!
Keep back also thy servant from presumptuous sins;
Let them not have dominion over me !
Then shall I be upright,
I shall not be polluted with gross transgression.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in thy sight,
0 Lord, my strength and my Redeemer,!
Psalm XIX., Translated by Notes.
CXLVII.— IT IS IMPOSSIBLE.
1. It is impossible! said some, when Peter the Great deter
mined on a voyage of discovery, and the cold and uninhabited
region over which he reigned furnished nothing but some larch-
trees®1 to construct vessels. But though the iron, the cordage,
the sails, and all that was necessary, except the provisions for
victualling11 them, were to be carried through the immense deserts
of Siberia, down rivers of difficult navigation, and along roads
almost impassable, the thing was done; for the command of
the sovereign and the perseverance of the people surmounted
every obstacle.
2. It is impossible I said some, as soon as they heard of a
scheme of Oberlin's." To rescue his pa-rish'ioners from a half-
savage state, he determined to open a communication with the
high road to Strasbourg,®1 so that the productions of the Ban de
la Roche" might, find a market. Having assembled the people,
he proposed that they should blast (he rocks, and convey a suf
THE STANDARD FOURTH READE&
fioient quantity of enormous masses to construct a wall lor a
road, about a mile and a half in length, aloDg the banks of the
river Bruche,* and build a bridge across it
3. The peasants were astonished at his proposition, and pro¬
nounced it impracticable; and every one excused himself on the
ground of private business. He, however, reasoned with them,
and added the offer of his own example. No sooner had he
pronounced these words, than, with a pickaxe on his shoulder, he
proceeded to the spot; while the astonished peasants, animated
by his example, forgot their excuses, and hastened with one con¬
sent to fetch their tools to follow him.
4. At length every obstacle was surmounted; walls were
erected to support the earth, which appeared ready to give way;
mountain torrents, which had hitherto inun'dated the mead¬
ows, were diverted into courses, or received into beds sufficient
to contain them—and the thing was done. The bridge still
bears the name of the " Bridge of Charity."
5. It is impossible ! said some, as they looked at the impen¬
etrable forests which covered the rugged flanks and deep gorges
of Mount Pila'tus, in Switzerland, and hearkened to the daring
plan of a man named Rapp, to convey the pines from the top
of the mountain to the Lake of Lucerne,®1 a distance of nearly
nine miles.
6. Without being discouraged by their' exclamations, he
formed a slide or trough®1 of twenty-four thousand pine-trees,
six feet broad, and from three to six feet deep; and this slide,
which was completed in 1812, and called the slide of Alpnach,1
was kept moist. Its length was forty-four thousand English
feet.
7. It had to be conducted ovei rocks, or along their sides, or
under ground, or over deep places where it was sustained by
scaffoldings; and yet skill and perseverance overcame every
obstacle — and the thing was done. The trees rolled down from
the mountain into the lake with wonderful rapidity.
8. The larger pines, which were about a hundred feet long,
* Pronounced Broosh.
t Pronounoed Alp'nfik.
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
313
ran through the space of eight miles and a third in about six
minutes. A gentleman who saw this great work says, that
M such was the speed with which a tree of the largest size passed
any given point, that he could only strike it once with a stick
as it rushed by, however quickly he attempted to repeat the
blow."
9. Say not hastily, then, It is impossible! It may be so to
do a thing in an hour, a day, or a week; or by thoughtlessness,
carelessness or indolence; but to act with wisdom, energy and
perseverance, is to insure success. " Time and patience," says
a Spanish author, " make the mulberry-leaf satin; " and another
remarks that " care and industry do everything." "Williams.
CXLV1II.—ROLLA AND THE SENTINEL.
Rolla. Inform me, friend, is not Alonzo, the Spanish pris¬
oner, confined in this dungeon ?
Sentinel. He is.
Rolla. I must speak with him.
Sen. You must not.
Rolla. He is my friend.
Sen. Not if he were thy brother.
Rolla. What is to be his fate ?
Sen. He dies at sunrise.
Rolla. Ha ! then I am come in time.
Sen. Just — to witness his death.
Rolla. Soldier, I must speak with him.
Sen. Back, back ! It is impossible.
Rolla. I do entreat thee, but for one moment.
Sen. Thou entreatest in vain -- my orders are most strict.
Rolla. Even now I saw a messenger go hence.
Sen. He brought a pass which we are all accustomed to obey
Rolla. Look on this wedge of massive gold — look on these
piecious gems. In thy own land they will be wealth for thee
and thine beyond thy hope or wish. . Take them, they are thine
let me but pass one minute with Alonzo.
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the standard fourth reader.
Sen. Away! — wouldst thou corrupt me ? Me, an old Caa-
tilian : I know my duty better.
Rolla. Soldier, hast thou a wife ?
Se?i. I have.
Rolla. Hast thou children ?
Sen. Four — honest, lovely boys.
Rolla. Where didst thou leave them ?
Sen. In my native village; even in the cot where myself
was born.
Rolla. Lost thou love thy children and thy wife ?
Sen. Do I love them? Heaven knows my heart — I do .
Rolla. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death
in this strange land; what would be thy last request ?
Sen. That some one of my comrades" should carry my dying
Dlessing to my wife and children.
Rolla. 0 ! but if that comrade was at thy prison gate, and
should there be told, " Thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet
thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his
dying blessing to his poor children or his wretched wife; " what
wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade
from the door ?
Sen. Howl
Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child. I am come but to receive
for her, and for her babe, the last blessing of my friend.
Sen, Go in Kotzebue.
1. " Sat, who art thou, -with more than mortal air,
Endowed by Heaven with gifts and graces rare,
Whom restless, winged feet forever onward bear ? "—
2. " I am Occasion — known to few, at best ;
And, since one foot upon a wheel I rest,
Constant my movements are — they cannot be repressed
8 " Not the swift eagle, in his swiftest flight,
Can equal me in speed; — my wings are bright,
And man, who sees them waved, is dazzled by the sight,
lis. — occasion.
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4. " swift and flowing locks before me thrown
Conceal my form, — nor face nor breast is shown,
That thus, as I approach, my coming be not known.
5. " Behind my head no single lock of.hair
Invites the hand that fain would grasp it there;
But he who lets me pass — to seize me may despair." —
6. " Whom, then, so close behind thee do I see?" —
" Her name is Penitence; and Heaven's decree
Hath made all those her prey who profit not by me
7. " And thou, 0 mortal! who dost vainly ply
These curious questions, — thou dost not descry
That now thy time is lost — for I am passing by."
From the Italian.
CL.—A COMMON MARVEL.
1. Common reading and writing — that is, in a word, the use
of language as a system of visible and audible signs of thought
-—is the great prerog'ativeEI of our nature as rational beings.
When we have acquired the mastery of this system of audible
and visible signs, we have done the greatest thing, as it seems
to me, as far as intellect is concerned, which can be done by a
rational man. It is so common that we do not much reflect
upon it; but, like other common things, it hides a great mystery
of our nature.
2. When we have learned how, by giving an impulse with
our vocal organs to the air, by making a few black marks on
a piece of paper, to establish a direct sympathy between our
invisible and spiritual essence and that of other men, so that
they can see and hear what is passing in our minds, just as if
thought and feeling themselves were visible and audible, — not
o o
only so, when in the same way we establish a communication
between mind and mind in ages and countries the most remote,
— we have wrought a miracle of human power and skill, which
I never reflect upon without awe.
3. Can we realize, sir, that in this way we have, through the
medium of the declamation of these children, been addressed
THE STANDARD VOTRTH READER.
316
/Sthenes and Cicero, by Burke and Fox ? Well, sir, al
bygone by writing, reading and speaking. It is a result of
£e simple operations.
4. When you tell me a boy has learned to read, you tell me
Jiat he has entered into an intellectual partnership not only
with every living contemporary,11 but with every mind ever
created that has left a rec'ord of itself on the pages of science
and literature, — and when he has learned to write, he has
acquired the means of speaking to generations and ages that
will exist a thousand years hence.
5. It all comes back to the use of language. The press, the
electric telegraph, are only improvements in the mode of com¬
munication. The wonderful thing is, that the mysterious sig¬
nificance of thought, the invisible action of spirit, can be
embodied in sounds and signs addressed to the eye and ear.
6. Instead of wondering that among speaking, writing and
reading men, you have occasionally a Shakspeare, a Bacon, or a
Franklin, my wonder is to see boys and girls, after a few years'
training able to express in written marks and spoken sounds
the subtlest,*1 shades of thought, and that in two or three lan¬
guages. Everett.
CLI.—RETURN OF BRITISH FUGITIVES AFTER THE REVO¬
LUTION.
1. I venture to prophesy there are those now living who
will see this favored land amongst the most powerful on
earth, — able, sir, to take care of herself, without resorting to
that policy, which is always so dangerous, though sometimes
unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. Yes, sir, they will see her
great in arts and in arms, — her golden harvests waving over
fields of immeasurable extent, her commerce penetrating the most
distant seas, and her cannon silencing the vain boasts of those
who now proudly affect to rule the waves. But, sir, you must
have men, — you cannot get along without them.
2. Those heavy forests of valuable timber, under which your
lands are groaning, must be cleared away. Those vast riches
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317
which cover the face of your soil, as well as those which lie hid
m its bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the skill
and enterprise of men. Your timber, sir, must be worked up
into ships, to transport the productions of the soil from which it
aas been cleared. Then, you must have commercial men and
commercial capital, to take off your productions, and find the
best markets for them abroad. Your great want, sir, is the want
of men; and these you must have, and will have speedily, if you
are wise.
3. Do you ask how you are to get them ? Open your doors,
sir, and they will come in ! The population of the Old World
is full to overflowing. That population is ground, too, by the
oppressions of the governments under which they live. Sir, they
are already standing on tiptoe upon their native shores, and
looking to your coasts with a wistful and longing eye. They see
here a land blessed with natural and political advantages which
are not equalled by those of any other country upon earth; — a
land on which a gracious Providence hath emptied the horn of
abundance, — a land over which Peace hath now stretched forth
her white wings, and where Content and Plenty lie down at every
door!
4. Sir, they see something still more attractive than all this.
They see a land in which Liberty hath taken up her abode, —
that Liberty whom they had considered as a fabled goddess,
existing only in the fancies of poets. They see her here a real
divinity; — her altars rising on every hand, throughout these
happy states; her glories chanted by three millions of tongues,
and the whole region smiling under her blessed influence.
5. Sir, let but this, our celestial goddess, Liberty, stretch
forth her fair hand toward the people of the Old World, — tell
them to come, and bid them welcome, — and you will see them
pouring in from the north, from the south, from the east, and
from the west. Your wildernesses will be cleared and settled
your deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will
Boon be in a condition to defy the power of any adversary.
6. But gentlemen object to any accession from Great Britain,
And particularly to the return of the British refugees. Sir, 1
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the standard fourth reader.
feel no objection to the return of those deluded people. They
have, to be sure, mistaken their own interests most wofully; and
most wofully have they suffered the punishment due to their
offences. But the relations which we bear to them, and to theit
native country, are now changed. Their king has acknowledged
our independence ; the quarrel is over; peace has returned, and
found us a free people.
T. Let us have the magnanimity, sir, to lay aside our antipa¬
thies and prejudices, and consider the subject in a political light.
They are an enterprising, moneyed class. They will be service¬
able in taking off the surplus produce of our lands, and supply¬
ing us with necessaries, during the infant state of our manufac¬
tures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and
principle, I can see no objection, in a political -view, to making
them tributary to our advantage. And, as I have no prejudices
to prevent my making this use of them, so, sir, I have no fear
of any mischief that they can do usT Afraid of them ! — What,
sir, shall we, who have laid the proud British lion at our feet,
now be afraid of his whelps ? Patrick Henry.
CLII. — THE DRUM.
Yonder is a little drum, hanging on the wall;
Busty wreaths and tattered flags round about it fall.
A shepherd youth on Cheviot's hills watched the sheep whose skin
A cunning workman wrought, and gave the little drum its din:
And happy was the shepherd-boy whilst tending of his fold,
Nor thought he there was in the world a spot like Cheviot's wold.
And so it was for many a day; but change with time will come
And he — (alas for him the day!) — he heard the little drum.
" Follow," said the drummer-boy, " would you live in story!
For he who strikes a foeman down wins a wreath of glory."
" Rub-a-dub ! and rub-a-dub I " the drummer beats away —
The shepherd fets his bleating flock on Cheviot wildly stray.
On Egypt's arid wastes of sand the shepherd now is lying;
Around him many a parching tongue for " water " faintly crying
0, that he were on Cheviot's hills, with velvet verdure spread,
Or lying 'mid the blooming heath where oft he made his bed!
THIS STANDARD EOURTH READER.
Or could he drink of those sweet rills that trickle to its vales,
Ur breathe once more the balminess of Cheviot's mountain gales
At length upon his wearied eyes the mists of slumber come,
And he is in his home again — till wakened by the drum !
" To arms ! to arms ! " his leader cries ; " the foe — the foe k
nigh !"
Guns loudly roar, steel clanks on steel, and thousands fall to die.
The shepherd's blood makes red the sand : " 0 ! water — give
me some !
My voice might reach a friendly ear — but for that little drum !"
'Mid moaning men, and dying men, the drummer kept his way,
And many a one by " glory " lured abhorred the drum that day.
" Rub-a-dub ! ajid rub-a-dub ! " the drummer beat aloud —
The shepherd died! and, ere the morn, the hot sand was his
shroud.
And this is "glory"? — Yes; and still Will man the tempter
follow,
Nor learn that glory, like its drum, is but a sound — and hollow.
CLIII. — CAIUS MARIUS TO THE ROMANS,
IN REPLY TO OBJECTIONS TO HIS GENERALSHIP.
1. You have committed to my conduct, 0 Romans, the war
duainst Juuur'tha. The Patricians are offended at this. "He
C5 O
has no family statues ! " they exclaim : " he can point to no
illustrious line o£ ancestors! " — What then ? Will dead ances¬
tors, will motionless statues, help fight your battles ? Will it
avail your general to appeal to these in the perilous hour ?
2. Rare wisdom would it be, my countrymen, to intrust the
command of your army to one whose only qualification for it
would be the virtue of—'his forefathers; to one untried and
inexperienced, but of most unexceptionable family ; who could not
show a solitary scar, but any number of ancestral statues; whe
knew not the first rudiments of war, but was very perfect in
pedigrees !
3. Truly, I have known of such holiday heroes,—raised
because of family considerations, to a command for which they
820
THE STANDARD FOURTH HEADER.
were not fitted, — who, when the moment for actio ,, arrived,
were obliged, in their ignorance and trepidation, to give to some
inferior officer — to some despised Plebeian — the ordering of
every movement.
4. I submit it to you, Romans,— is Patrician pride or Plebeian
experience the safer reliance? The actions of which my opponents
have merely read, I have achieved or shared in. What they have
seen written in books, I have seen written on battle-fields with
steel and blood. They object to my humble birth. They sneer
at my lowly origin. Im'potent objection ! Ignominious sneer !
Where but in the spirit of a man can his true nobility be
lodged ? and where his dishonor, but in his own cowardly inac¬
tion, or in his unworthy deeds? Tell these railers at my
obscure extraction, their haughty lin'e-age could'not make them
noble, my humble birth could never make vie base.
5. I profess no indifference to noble descent. It is a good
thing to number great men among one's ancestry. But when a
descendant is dwarfed in the comparison with his forefathers,
nobility of birth should be accounted a shame rather than a mat¬
ter of boast. These Patricians cannot despise me, if they would,
since their titles date from ancestral services similar to those
which I myself have rendered.
6. And what if I can show no family statues ? I can show
the standards, the armor, the spoils, which I myself have
wrested from the vanquished. I can show the scars of many
wounds received in combating the enemies of Rome. These
are my statues! These, the honors I can boast of! Not an
accidental inheritance; but earned by toil, by abstinence, by
valor, amid scenes of strife and carnage ; scenes in which these
effeminate Patricians, who would now depreciate me in your
esteem, have never dared to appear, — no, not even as specta¬
tors ! Here, Romans, are my credentials; here, my titles of
nobility ; here, viy claims to the generalship of your army ! Tell
me, are they not as respectable, are they not as valid, are they
not as deserving of your Confidence and reward, as those which
any Patrician of them all can effer ?
Paraphrase fbon Salmjsy
PART III.
AN EXPLANATORY INDEX
OF
WORDS MARKED FOR REFERENCE WITH TIIE INITIALS n IN THE
PRECEDING PAGES; ALSO 0^ SUBJECTS, NAMES OF AUTHORS, &c.
See Notice on pages 76r77
Is-are-vi-a'tion, the act of shortening. A
fetter or a few letters, used for a word or
for words, is called an abbreviation ; as is
also an arbitrary mark, as $ for dollar.
Among the principal abbreviations used in
literature at the present day are the fol¬
lowing : A.B., Bachelor of Arts ; A.M.,
Master of Arts ; A. M., before noon ;
Anon., anonymous ; B. C., before Christ;
Cal., California ; Co.. company, county ;
Conn, or Ct., Connecticut; Cr., credit; D.
C., District of Columbia ; D.D., Doctor of
Divinity ; Del/, Delaware ; Do., ditto, the
same ; Dr., doctor, debtor ; Esq., esquire ;
Etc. or &c., and others, and so forth ;
Feb., February ; Fl. or Fa., Florida; Ga.
or Geo., Georgia; Hon., honorable; lb.
or Ibid, in the same place ; i. e., that is
(Latin, id est); 111., Illinois ; la., Indiana;
Incog., unknown ; Inst., instant, or of the
present month ; Ken. or Ky., Kentucky ;
L. or £, pound sterling ; La. or Lou.,
Louisiana; L. I., Long Island ; LL.D.,
Doctor of Laws ; M., Monsieur ; Ma.,
Minesota ; Mass. or Ms., Massachusetts ;
M.C., Member of Congress; M.D., Doc¬
tor of Medicine ; Md., Maryland ; Me.,
Maine ; Messrs. or MM., Messieurs (Sirs);
Mme., Madame ; Mich., Michigan ; Miss,
or Mi., Mississippi ; Mo., Missouri; M.P.,
Member of Parliament; Mr., Master or
Mister ; Mrs., Mistress (pronounced Mis¬
sis) ; MS., manuscript ; MSS., manu¬
scripts ; N. A., North America ; N. B.
(nota be-ne), mark well ; N. C., North
Carolina; Nem. con. (nemi-ne contradi-
ceu-te), no one contrad-cting; N. H.,
New Hampshire; N. J., New Jersey;
No., number ; N. If , New York ; 0.,
Ohio; P. or p., page ; Pa. or Penn.,
Pennsylvania ; per cent, (per centum), by
the hundred ; P. M. (post merid'iem),
afternoon Pro tern, (pro tempo-re), for
the time ; Pro., in favor of, for; Prox
(prox-imo), next, or of the next month
P.S. (post scriptum), postscript; Q. E.
D. (quot erat demonstrandum), which
was to be demonstrated ; R. I., Rhode
Island ; S. C., South Carolina ; St., Saint;
Tenn., Tennessee; U. S., United States;
U. S. A., United States of 'America ; U.
S. N., United States Navy ; Va., Vir¬
ginia ; Viz. (videli'cet), to wit, namely ;
Vol., volume ; V.P., Vice President ;
Vs. (versus), against; Vt., Vermont: W.
1., West Indies ; &c. (et eastern), and the
rest, and so forth; 4to, quarto ; 8vo,
octavo ; 12mo, duodecimo ; 16mo, sexto¬
decimo ; 18mo, octo-decimo.
Abernethy, John, a celebrated surgeon;
born in London in 1765, died 1831. lie
acquired great reputation as an anato¬
mist and medical teacher. See his opinion
on the cause of the majority of diseases,
page 276. ,
Ab-jure', to abandon upon oath.
Ab-strac'tion. We are said to consider an
idea abstractly, or in the abstract, when
we consider it separated from other ideas
which naturally accompany it. Abstract
numbers are numbers used without ap
plication to things, as 1, 2, 3; but when
applied to anything, as 1 foot, 2 men, 3
dogs, they become concrete. By " ab¬
straction," we mean the act of separat¬
ing, or of being separated.
Ac'cent. Remarks on, page 29. Exercises
in, page 51. Misplacing of, page 59.
Ac-cent'd-ate, to mark with an accent.
Ac-cou'trf, (ac-coot'er) to dress, equip.
This word is spelled by Webster, accouter
Ad-he'sion, the act or state of sticking to.
Ad'jec-tive, a word added to a noun to ex
press some quality or circumstance. Its
derivation is from the Latin words 3d, to
and iactum, thrown on or added
322
THE STANDARD FOURTn REAbER.
Ad'mi-hal. As used by Milton, page 72,
this word means a ship chat carries the
admiral, or simply a grea; ship.
Ad' verb, a word joined to a verb, partici¬
ple; an adjective, or ano.her adverb, to
qualify its meaning. It is derived from
the Latin words ad, to, and verbum, a
word.
Af -fin'i-ty, agreement, connection. It is
from the Latin words out, to, andJinis, an
end, also a boundary or limit; whence
the Latin word aff'lnis, neighboring, or
bordering.
Aikin, John, born in England in 1747; estab¬
lished himself as a physician in London.
He was a brother of Mrs. Barbauld,
and the author of several excellent works
for the young. He died 1822.
The Tutor and his Pupils, page 92.
Lokman, 277.
Al' bi-core, a marine fish, noted for follow¬
ing ships.
Alexander, Sib James. The Falls of Niag¬
ara in Winter, by, page 249.
Al-lc'vi-al, added to land by the wjsh of
water. The word is derived from the
Latin words ad, to, and luo, I wash.
Al'pha, the first letter in the Greek alpha¬
bet, answering to A, and used to denote
first, or beginning, as O-me'ga, the last
letter of the Greek alphabet, does last, or
end.
Al'pink, pertaining to the Alps, or to any
lofty mountain ; very high.
A-main', with force ; suddenly.
Am-bro'sial. Ambrosia was, in heathen
antiquity, the imaginary food of the gods.
The word is derived from the Greek,'— a,
without, and Irotos, mortal, because am¬
brosia was supposed to confer immortal¬
ity. An ambrosial beverage is one par¬
taking of the quality of ambrosia.
Am-phi-thh'a-trk. (The final syllable is
also spelled ter by Webster.) An edifice
in an oval or circular form, with an area
where combats with wild beasts were
exhibited. The area, being covered with
sand, was called a-rfihta, a Latin word,
meaning sand. The derivation of the
word amphitheatre is from the Greek
amphi, about, aitd theatron, a seeing-
place.
4n-ab a-sis (meaning a guing-up, an expe¬
dition), the title of a Greek work, by Xen-
ophon, describing an expedition under¬
taken by the younger Cyrus, B. C. 4t)l,
against his brother Artaxcrxes, King of
Persia.
An-al'o-gv, resemblance, similarity, pro¬
portion.
A-nal'o-oocs, having resemblance.
An'CLO-Sax'on, pertaining to the Saxons
who settled in England, or English Sax¬
ons.
An-neai.', to heat in order to fix colors ; to
temper glass.
A-non', quickly ; soon.
A-hon.', an abbreviation of Anonymous.
k non't-mocs, wanting a name. It is froir
the Greek words a, without, and in 'oma,
a name.
Ax-tith h-sis, opposition of words or senti
ments ; contrast. The plural of this word
is an-tith'e-sSs. The derivation is from
the Greek anti, against, and thesis, a
placing or arranging.
An-ti-thet'i-cal, placed in contrast.
A-pol-lo, a heathen divinity; the god of
medicine, prophecy and song. He is also
cailed Phoebus.
Ap-pa-ra'tos, instruments necessary for
any art, study or trade. It is from the
Latin ap'pdro, I prepare.
Are. This word is pronounced to rhyme
with bar, car, &c ; the a having the first
elementary sound. See Exercises page 24.
A-re'na. See Amphitheatre.
Ar-ratgn' (ir-ran'), to accuse; to call in
question; to iDdict.
Ar'te-ry, one of the canals or pipes through
which the blood from the heart runs, like
water in.a pipe brought from a reservoir.
When an artery is cut it bleeds very vio¬
lently; and the only way to stop it is to
inake a pressure between the wounded
place and the heart, in order to intercept
the course of the blood towards it.
Ar-ti-ci.e is the name given by gramma¬
rians to the two little adjectives the and an
or a in our language; the former being
called the definite, the latter the indefi¬
nite article. The indefinite article an" is
only a corruption of the adjective one,
or, as our ancestors wrote, une; and a is
a still more violent corruption of the same
word.
Ar-tic-c-la'tion. Rules for, page 31
Faults in, page 5-3.
A-side. In dramatic writing, a character is
supposed to utter a remark aside when he
does not mean that the other person or
persons of the drama who,may be present
shall hear it.
As'pi-ratb, pronounced with a strong emis
sinn of breath. The word is from the
Latin as-pi'ro, I breathe, or blow. See
pages 18, 39 and 50, in regard to aspirate
consonant sounds.
Ate, the preterite of the verb to eat. It is
pronounced ate by both Webster and
Worcester ; it, by Smart and others.
Au-ro'ral. Aurora was in ancient mythol¬
ogy the goddess of the morning; hence
Auroral means resembling the dawn of
day ; also belonging to the Aurora, or
Northern Lights.
Av-a-lanchk'. a snow-slide. Pronounced
av-a-fansli', the italicized a having the
sound of a in father.
Avai'Nt, hence ; begone. The au of this
word lias the first elementary sound. See
page 34.
Aye (a) forever; continually. This word
should be distinguished from ay (meaning
yes). See H 48. page 24.
Azure, blue, sky colored. This wol 1 is pro
nounced a'zhhr by Walker, and azh'ui
by Webster.
Bancroft, George, an American historian
1 author of a history of the United States-
The Pioru'-Ts of Kentucky, by, 152.
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
323
Base, poison, mischief.
B arbauld, Anna Letitia, born in England
in 1743, died 1825. She was the sister of
Dr. John Aikin, and wrote with him that
excellent work for the young, "Evenings
at Home." Mentioned page 150,
A Pastoral Hymn, 110.
Uar-ce-lo'na, a fortified city and port of
Spain, on the Mediterranean. Its staple
manufactures are cotton and silk.
Bab mec-jde. The descendants of Barmek,
an illustrious*'Persian, were called Bar¬
mecides. Noble qualities seemed to be
hereditary in the family. Jaffar is said
to have perished in his thirty-seventh
year, a victim of the unjust displeasure of
Ilaroun, the reigning monarch.
Barrow, Isaac, a learned mathemahi ;ian
aud divine ; born in England about the
year 1630, died 1677. As a theological
writer he is much esteemed.
On Industry, by, page 296.
Barton, Bernard, an amiable English
poet; born in London in 1784, died 1849.
He was a Quaker.
Farewell, by, 204.
Bayou (by'oo), in Louisiana the outlet of a
lake; a channel for water. The term is
also applied to lateral or side outlets from
the Mississippi.
Baxter, Richard, a pious and eminent
English clergyman ; born 1615, died 1691.
Quoted page 275.
BsslTtie, James, was born in Scotland in
1735, died 1803. Of his writings his
poem of " The Minstrel" is now most
read. See extracts from this poem on
pages 139, 203, 255.
Beaumont. Consider Both Sides, by, 133.
Be-i.ea'guer (be-lee'ger), to besiege; to sur¬
round with an army, so as to preclude
escape.
0 erkele y, George, Bishop of Cloyne, in Ire-
laud, was born in Ireland in 1684, died
in 1753. He was distinguished as a phi¬
losophical writer, and was the friend of
Pope. Swift, Steele, and other authors of
note. Having conceived a scheme for the
conversion of the North American sav¬
ages , by means of a missionary college to
be erected in the Bermudas, he sailed iu
September, 1728, with his wife, a valuable
library, and a considerable sum of money,
for Rhode Island. He took up his resi¬
dence in Newport, and for nearly two
years devoted himself closely to his pas¬
toral labors. The English government,
however, disappointed him, and he, was
compelled to return to England.
Mentioned by Webster, page 236.
Verses by, page 238..
Be-bprent, sprinkled over.
Big'ot-ry, blind zeal; great prejudice.
Biro'lime, a glue to catch birds by smear¬
ing the twigs of a bush or tree.
Biv'ocac (bivwak), the guard or watch of a
whole army during the night.
v lack wood's Magazine, a celebrated
monthly magazine, published in Edin¬
burgh, Scotland.
She Man in the Bell, from, p. 224.
Blank Verse. See IT 197, page 68.
Bo-ni'to (bo-nee'to), a large sea-fisli, well
known to voyagers for its persecution of
the flying-fish.
Bor'ough (bur'ro), a corporate town. Until
the injustice was reformed by Parliament in
1832, certain old boroughs iu England had
the privilege of sending members to the
House of Commons, although such bor¬
oughs had so fallen from their former im
portance that the voters could not com¬
pare in number with the number required
in other Parliamentary districts in ordai
to send a member to the House of Com
mons. The boroughs thus unjustly priv-
ileged were called " rotten boroughs. '
See Sydney Smith's remarks, page 262.
Bossut. Extract from his First Frenci
Grammar, on the Parts of Speech, p. 266
Brach (brfitsh), a female hound.
Bravo. Used as an interjection, meaning
" well done ! " the a in this word lias the
first elementary sound, as in father.
When used as a noun, meaning a villain,
or hir^d assassin, the a lias its long sound,
as in hate.
Brigham, Amariah, a distinguished Amer
ican physician, for several years superin¬
tendent of the New York State Lunatic
Asylum. He was burn in 1798, died
1849.' Quoted page 276.
Bronze (bronze or bronze), a factitious metal,
compounded of copper and tin. A color pre¬
pared for the purpose of imitating bronze.
Bronzed, sunburnt.
Brougham (Broohm), Henry, better known
as Lord Brougham, distinguished as a
speaker and man of letters ; a native of
Scotland.
Consummate Glory of Washington, 228.
Bruce. A Chapter of Advice, 97.
Burg'o-master, the chief magistrate of a
town in Holland.
Byrom, John, a poet of moderate preten¬
sions, but whose pure moral lessons have
made him remembered when writers of
more pretence are forgotten. He was bore
in England in 1691, died 1763.
St. Philip Neri and the Youth, 122
Helps to Read, 248.
Byron, Lord George Gordon, agreatEi g-
lish poet; born, 1788, died 1824.
The Ancient Heroes of Greece, 138.
The Penalty of Eminence, 203
Solitude, 204.
Cab'in-et, a small'room; a closet; lierce,
the select or secret council of a chief
magistrate, so called from the apartment
in which it was originally held.
Cai-su'ra (cae-zu'ra), a pause in verse, intro¬
duced for the sake of harmony, aud divid¬
ing the verse into equal or unequal parts.
The word is derived from the Latin ctedOj
I cut off. See IT 195.
C;e-su'ral, pertaining to the Caesura.
Cai-ro (ki'ro), the capital of modern Egypt.
The population is reckoned at 240,000 in
habitants. It still maintains the reputa¬
tion of being the best school of Ar'abic
literature.
324
THE STANDARD F"VFRTU READ Eli.
Cai/loujs, hard ; insensible.
Campbell, Thomas, one of the purest and
most-finished of English poets; born in
Glasgow, Scotland, in 1777 ; died 1844.
The Rainbow, by, 144.
Hallowed Ground, 257.
The Parrot., 304.
Can'on (rail-on), a dignitary in a church.
The word also means a rule, a law, and
the genuine books of the Holy Scriptures.
CaxcTe, account of by Dickens, page 123.
Ca-^ar'i-son, a superb dress for a horse.
Captious, disposed to find fault. The word
is derived from the Latin capto, I catch.
Cari.yle, Thomas, a gifted but eccentric
writer, born in Scotland in 1796. Quoted
page 275.
Ca-thk'dral, the principal church in a dio¬
cese, or bishop's jurisdiction. The Greek
word cathedra, from which this is de¬
rived, means a ehair or seat.
Of xt. This word is derived from the Latin
centum, a hundred. In commerce per
cent, denotes a rate by the hundred.
Thus, when money is said to be yielding
five per cent, interest per annum, it is
r. eant that it is yielding five dollars a
year on every hundred; so that a thou¬
sand dollars, at five pet cent, interest,
would yield in a year fifty dollars.
Ckn-tre. This word is derived from
the Greek kenlroun, a point. Web
stor's spelling of the word is center.
Ckr'k-bral, pertaining to the cer'e-brum,
or brain.
Chal-dee (Kal'dee), an inhabitant of Chal-
dsea, the name of the south-western por¬
tion of the Babylonian empire, extending
along the river Euphrates, and as far as
the Arabian desert. Astrology was much
cultivated among the sages of Chaldaea.
Challenge, to cail to a contest; to accuse ;
to object to. In law a party is said to
challenge certain jurors when he objects
to their sitting in trial upon his cause.
Ciia-mou-ni (Sha-moo-nee' — the a like the
a in father), a valley to the north-west of
Mont Blanc, on the boundary-line between
Savoy and Piedmont. The village of
Chamouni, which is nearly in the centre
of the valley, is three thousand four hun-
dr'd and three feet above the level of the
sea. The mountain pinnacle properly
called Mont Blanc is fifteen thousand
seven hundred and thirty-two feet above
the sea. See Coleridge's Lines, p. 246.
ctja-os (lca'os), a Greek wofd, signifying that
confusion of things supposed to exist be¬
fore God's creating word called forth har¬
mony and order.
Chambers, William and Robert, eminent
publishers in Edinburgh, Scotland, and
also known as writers of much ability.
Presence of Mind, 87.
Falsehoods of Exaggeration, 200.
The Misanthrope, 276.
A Genuine Hero, 280.
flh arles II., King of England, son of Charles
1., was born 1630, died 1685. He did
much to corrupt the morals of England,
and was a profligate, worthless fellow
See Lickrus's account of him, page 233.
Chatham, Lor.-, e'so called the Earl of
Chatham, received from his father the
name of William Pit., and was born in
England in 1708. He was one of tits
greatest of English oietois, and opposed
in Parliament the course cf the English
government against the Amaruane, which
led to the war of our Revomticn. Lord
Chatham had a son hardly less, renovued
than himself, and who whs als-» iiomed
William Pitt. Lord Chatham died w
1778.
Speech against the American War, 253
Childhood and his Visitors, 301.
Chiv'al-ry (shiv'al-ry), knighthood, vale
the bxly or order of knights. The word iS
derived from the French cheval, a horse.
Christian Masineb, The, 302.
Chron-ic, relating to time ; continuing a
long time. The word is derived from the
Greek chronos, meaning time.
Cicero, Marcus Tullius, a celebrated Ro¬
man orator, born 106 B. C. He is some¬
times called Tully. Cicero passed some
time in exile, and wrote upon many sub¬
jects. He was killed 43 B. C.
Cir'cum-flex. This word is dei ved from
the Latiu circum, round, and flee to, I
bend. Concerning the circumflex accent,
see If 176, page 62 ; and for examples on
the circumflex accent, page 73.
Classical, Classics. The Romans were
divided into six classes ; and classici was
the name given to the first class ; whence
the best Greek and Roman authors have
been, in modern times, called classics ■,
that is, first-class writers.
Clause, in language a member, or part, of
a sentence. The word is derived from
the Latin claudo, I stmt up; so that it
literally means an enclosure. According
to Webster, a clause is a subdivision of a
sentence in which the words are insepar¬
ably connected with each other in sense,
and cannot with propriety be separated
by a point.
Clerk. This word is pronounced klarh
(the a as in father) in England; but in
the United States the preferred pronun¬
ciation is very properly klerk. The word
is derived from the Greek klirikos.
Clev'er. In England this word signifies
adroit, skilful, expert In parts of the
United States it is often used as signify¬
ing good-natured, oblig ing; though the
word is often used in its English sense in
this country.
Co'gent. Ths Latin word capo, I drive to¬
gether to one point, I compel, is the root
of this word, which accordingly means
urgent, pressing on the mind, not easily
resisted; as, a cogent argument or res
son.
Cog'natr, related in origin; of the same
family. The word is from the Latin cog-
natus, allied by blood. Of letters allied
in the manner of formation or utterance,
we say they areei^nate. SeeT21, p 17.
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
325
Coi.kbidgb, Samuel Taylor, a celebrated
English writer; born 1770, died 1813.
Chamouni and Alont Blanc, 258.
Col'o-nei, (kur'nel), the chief commander
of a regiment of troops. See Exercises on
the twentieth elementary sound, p. 39.
Comjm'bes (a name Latinized from the Ital-
• ian Colombo and the Spanish Colon) was
born at Gen'o-a, about the year 1445 or
1446. He made his immortal discovery
of America, October 11th, 1492. See Dia¬
logues on pages 145 and 148 ; and " The
Reception of Columbus," described by
Lamartine, page 149.
Coji-bi-na'tion, literally a joining two by
two ; whence the word is applied to sig¬
nify a union or association of two or more
persons or things. Thus, by '• consonant
combinations," we mean the union of two
or more consonants, either in writing or
in utterance.
Comb'li-ness (kum'li-ness), that which is
becoming in form or manner.
Com'mi-nu-ted, reduced to fine particles ;
pulverized.
Com-pend'i-ous, short, direct, abridged.
The Latin word compen'do, from which
this is derived, means I weigh or balance
together.
Oom'rade (pronounced kom'rad by Web¬
ster and Worcester, kum'rad by Walker),
a companion ; an associate.
Con cisb', cut off, brief. It is from the
Latin conci'do, I cut down.
Con-densed, made more close or compact ;
reduced into a narrower compass.
Confessions of a Bashful Man, 244.
Con'flu-ence, a flowing together j the
meeting of two or more streams. This
word is from the Latin ton-Jiuo, I flow
together.
Con-fute', to disprove; to prove to be
false ; to convict of error.
Con-junc'tion, in grammar a connecting
Word which serves; to unite sentences or
propositions. It is from the Latin con¬
junct), I bind together.
Con-jure. When this word means to call
on, or summon solemnly, the accent is on
the last syllable. When it means to in¬
voke by magic arts, it is pronounced kuri'-
jur.
Conquering by Kindness, 207.
Con-tem'po-ra-ry (sometimes written co-
temporary), living or existing at the same
tune. It is from the Latin con, together,
and temp us, time.
Corpse (korps — the o as in nor), the deac"
body of a human beiug. In poetry this
word is sometimes written and pro
riounced without the p.
Cop.'ri-dor, a gallery round a building ; a
passage ; an entry. It is from the Latin
curro, I run ; hence a running line.
Coi'rt-e-ocs (kurt'yus also pronounced
kftrt'yus), civil *, well-bred.
Cowper, William, a celebrated English
poet; born 1731, died 1800.
Translation from Milton, 165.
From an Epistle to J. Hill, 165.
Chabile, Gsjrue, an English poet; bom
28
1754, died 1832. Description of a Boat
race and Wreck of a Boat, p. 184.
Crim'in-ate, to accuse ; to cha ge with a
crime or an offence.
Cri-te'ri-on, a standard of judgment. The
root of the word is the Greek krino, 1
judge. The plural is criteria.
Croly, George, an English clergyman, and
a poet of great power of diction ; born in
Ireland about 1790.
The Seventh Plague of Egypt, 173.
The Pen (from the Greek), 252.
.Crotch, a fork , a parting of two branches;
as, the crotch of a tree.
Cook'oo (kook'oo), a bird, which has "is
name from the note it utters. The cuckoo
is said to lay her eggs in a nest formed by
another bird, by which they are hatched.
Hence the allusion in the third stanza of
the poem page 231.
Cur'ate, a liergyman in the Church of Eng
land, who is employed to perform divine
service, in the place of the regular in¬
cumbent. The word is derived from the
Latin cura, care.
Cdrran, John Philpot, f celebrated Ir'sh
lawyer and orator; born 1'. 50, died 1817.
Quoted, p. 275.
Czar, or Tzar, the Russian title of the mon¬
arch of Russia. The wife of the Czar is
styled Czarina. The word is pronounced
zar, rhyming with star.
Deaf. This word is pronounced tlef by
Walker, Sheridan, Perry, Jolies, Enfield,
Fulton and Knight, Jameson, Knowles,
Smart, Reid, and nearly all the English
lexicographers, as well as by Worcester,
the American. It is pronounced tlef by
Webster.
De-crep'id. See Decrepit.
De-crep'it, wasted and worn with age
This word, says Walker, is often written
and pronounced, inaccurately, decrepid
An instance occurs in the poem page 270.
De-mos'thk-xes, the most celebrated orator
of antiquity. Born at Athens, in Greece,
about380 B.C.; died, by poison, 322 B. C.
Words and Acts, 271.
De-pose, to bear witness. The word islrora
the Latin depo'no, I put down, or set
aside.
De-sign. The s in this word has, according
to some authorities, the thirty-first, and,
according to others, the thirty-second ele¬
mentary sound.* bee page 18
Dewey, Orville, an American clergyman
and author. False Notions in Regard to
Genius, by, 296.
Dick, Alexander. Infinitude of Creation
219.
Dickens, Charles, a popular writer of fic
tion ; born in England in 1812.
England under Canute, 123.
The History of Prince Arthur. 176.
The Merry Monarch, 233.
Dic'tatb, to tell what to write ; to order
Dic-ta'tion, the act of dictating.
Diph'thong (dif-thong). This word is pre
nounced dif'thong by Enfield, Knignt.
Bmart, Jameson and Webster : dip'tho^-
826
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
by Sheridan, Walker and others. It is
derived from the Greek dis, twice, phthog-
gds, a sound, and is used to signify a
union of two vowels in one sound. See
IT 45, page 23.
Dis-par'age (dis-pai 'age), to undervalue, to
abuse.
Down, a term applied in England to a tract
of poor, naked, hilly land, used only for
pasturing sheep.
Draft, to draw men from any society for
military service.
Drama. This word is pronounced dra'ma
by Sheridan, Fulton and Knight, and-
Webster ; dra'ma or dram'a, by Walker ;
dra'ma (the first a as in father), by Perry,
Jameson and Knowles.
Dru'ids, the priests of the Celtic inhabitants
of ancient Gaul and Britain. The sacri¬
fice of human victims is uniformly repre¬
sented as a part of their worship. They
celebrated their religious rites in conse¬
crated groves.
Dublin Nation. The Place to Die, 137.
Dufavel's Adventure in the Well, 258.
Duties of the American Citizen, 232.
Ear'nest (er'nest), a pledge ; first fruits;
money advanced. As an adjective this
word means serious, zealous. The radi¬
cal sense is to yearn, to reach forward.
Ec-cbn'tric. This word, derived from the
Latin ex, from, and centrum, a centre,
literally means deviating or departing
from the centre : hence, irregular, odd.
Edgeworth, Maria, a celebrated Irish nov¬
elist ; born 1766, died 1849.
The Lady who Disputed on Trifles, 103.
E'dict (e'dikt), a proclamation ; a decree.
It is from the Latin e-dico, I declare.
Edinburgh Review. Quoted, p. 307.
Education, p. 307.
E'duce, to bring out; extract. From the
Latin e-duco, I draw out.
Elementary Sounds, p. 17.
Elijah's Interview, p. 290.
El-lip'sis, an oval figure; ail omission.
See IT 194, page 68,
E-lys'ian, pertaining to Elysium.
E-lys'ium, in ancient mythology a place
assigned to happy souls after death.
Emerson, R. W., on Napoleon, 287.
EmTha-sis. See page 64. For Exercises in
Emphasis, see page 74. ■
En-gen'dbr, to produce ; to cause to exist.
En-gen'dp.iied, begotten; caused; produced.
E-nounck'j to utter; to pronounce ; to
enunciate. It is from the Latin enuncio,
I speak out.
Fp'ic. The Greek word epikos, from epos,
a song, whence epic was applied-to poe¬
try of a narrative kind, describing the
deeds of heroes.
Kp-i-dem'ic, common to many people ; af¬
fecting great numbers. The word is de¬
rived from the Greek epi, upon, and
demos, people. A prevalent disease.
E-quiv'a-lent, equal in value or worth. It
is from the Latin aquas, equal, and va-
lens, being worth.
Ere (ar), before ; sooner than. Do not con¬
found this word with e'er a oontraction
of ever.
Eu'pho-ny (yu'fo-ne), an agreeable, sofl
sound. It is from Jhe Greek eu, well, and
ph6n-e, voice.
Everett, Edward, a distinguished Amer
can writer and statesman. Quoted pages
308, 315.
Ex'e-unt. A Latin word, meaning they go
out.
Ex-haust (egz-liawst). The h in this word
should be distinctly sounded.
Ex-hib'it (egz-hib'it). The h in this word
should be distinctly sounded.
Ex'it. A Latin word, meaning he oi f
goes out.
Ex-traor'di-na-ry (eks-tror'de na-ry), not
oi-dinary ; unusual.
Fain, to wish or desire. This word is used
chiefly in poetry As an adverb — gladly.
Fair, an annual or stated meeting of buyers
and sellers.
Falsehoods of Exaggeration, 200.
Fal'la-cy, deceitful argument; a mistake.
Fan-tas'ti-cal, fanciful ; -produced or ex
isting only in the imagination.
Fell, a skin or hide of an animal. Shak-
speare applies the term to the hair of the
human scalp.
Fen'ny, boggy; marshy. Low and moist
, ground is called a fen.
Fi-at, a Latin word, meaning let it be done,
hence, an order ; a decree.
Fi'nal pertaining to the end or conclusion ,
last ; ultimate. To " see with final eyes "
(p. 182) is to see things-in their conclusions
rather than in then- present appearances
Form'al, according to form; regular;
methodical ; precise.
Form'u-la, a prescribed form; a rule oi
model.
Forth-with', immediately ; without delay
The th at the end of the second syllable
of this word, according to Walker, has its
aspirate sound as in thin, contrary to
the sound of those letters in with when
single. The same may be said of tne /
in whereof.
Foster-mother, a nurse.
Franklin, Benjamin, was born in Boston
Mass., Jan. 17th, 1706, and died in Phil¬
adelphia, April 17th, 1790. He was a
printer by profession, and rose to great
eminence as a philosopher and a states¬
man. While a printer at Philadelphia, he
published " Poor Richard's Almanac,''
from which the proverbial sayings (page
142) are gleaned.
Fro'ward (frO'wurd), peevish ; ungovern
able.
Ge'no-a (J6n'o-a), a famous seaport city ol
Italy, at the head of the Gulf of Genoa.
Geoffrey. Pronounced Joff'rey.
Ge-om'e-try. This word is from the Greek
ge, the earth, and mitron, measure ; so
that it originally signified the art of meas¬
uring the earth. It now means the
science of quantity, or the science which
Investigates the relations existing between
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
parts of space, whether Iin « ar (having
•ines), superficial (on the surface), or
solid. "
Blad'i-a-tor (glild'i-a-tor), a sword-player ;
a prize-fighter. The Latin word gladius
means a sword.
Gi.is'ter-ing, shining ; sparkling with light.
Goethe (pronounced (Gurt'her), a celebrated
German poet; born 1749, died 1832.
Haste Not — Rest Not, 228.
Goldsmith, Oliver, a favorite author ; born
in Ireland in 1731, died 1774.
The Poor Weep Unheeded, 303
Good Advice, 209.
Gorge (gorj ; the o as in nor), the throat ;
also a narrow passage between hills or
mountains.
Gourd (gord or goord), a plant bearing a
fruit with a shell or rind something like
that of a melon or cucumber. The fruit
of the plant is also called a gourd.
Gout. When this word signifies a drop (a5
on page 168), it is by some authorities
pronounced goot; though the most ap¬
proved pronunciation is gout, the ou as
in sound.
Graces, The. In heathen mythology, the
Graces were three beautiful sisters, Ag-
laia, Tha-li'a and Eu-phro3'y-ne, who at¬
tended Venus.
Grahame, James, a Scottish poet ; born
1765, died ^811. Quoted page 160.
Giiam-m a'ri-an, one versed in grammar, or
the construction of languages.
Grand'eup. (grind'yur or gran'jur), splen¬
dor ; greatness.
Grun, Anastasics, the assumed name of
Von Auersberg, an Austrian count, born
1806, and residing at Vienna.
The Two Returned Tourists, 132.
Gci'zot, Madame, a French writer, much
esteemed for the high moral tone of her
writings.
Was it Right ? page 89.
Gutenberg (pronounced Goo'ten-burg),
John, believed to be the first inventor of
the art of printing with movable types,
was born in 1397, near Mentz, on the
Rhine. He died in 1468. He experienced
the hard fate that most great inventors
have to endure from the misconceptions
and ingratitude of mankind. lie was
persecuted by the writers or copyists of
- his day, who were afraid that his inven¬
tion would throw them out of work. The
priests also were against him. His statue
in bronze was set up at Mentz, a few
years ago. See the Dialogue, page 221.
Uut'tur-al, pertaining to the throat; from
the Latin guttur, the throat. A guttural
sound is one formed iu the throat.
Hale, Sir Matthew, an eminent English
judge, was born in 1600, died 1676. He
was learned, bold and upright, in corrupt
times, and an ex'jmjilary Christian in all
the relations of life.
Anecdote of, page 162.
Hamilton, 'Thomas, an English writer,
authwof "Men and Manners in Amer¬
ica '■ He died in 1842.
The Scenery of the Lower Mississippi
213.
Han'ni-bal, general of the Carthaginians,
was the son of AmU'car, who caused him,
at the age of eight years, to swear before
the altar eternal enmity to Lie Romans.
He gained many victories over tbem, but
Was finally defeated, and, being apprehen¬
sive of falling into the enemies" hands, took
poison.
Hannibal's Oath, page 310.
Har'le-quin, a buffoon ; a clown dressed in
parti-colored clothes. Pronounced hcir'le
kin (the a as in star) by Walker, Wet
ster, Smart, Worcester and other authori
ties ; by Jameson, har'le-kwin.
Haste not — Rest not, by Goethe, p 228.
IIawk, to catch or try to catch birds by
means of hawks trained for the purpose.
Heathen (he'th'n — the th vocal as in
thy), one who worships idols, or is iguor
ant of the true God.
Heber, Reginald, Bishop of Calcutta, was
born in England in 1783, died in 1826.
His devotional poems are unsurpassed in
English literature.
Early Piety, by, page 295.
Hbc'a-tomb (hek'a-toom), a sacrifice of a
hundred cattle. From the Greek ek'aton,
a hundred, and bous, an ox.
Height. Spelled also hight by Webster,
HeL'i-c0n, a mountain in Bceotia, in Greece,
from which flowed the fountains Ag-a
nip'pe and Hip-po-cre'ne, sacred to the
Muses. The water was believed to have
the power of inspiring those who drank
of it.
Helps to Read, 248.
Hkmans, Felicia Dorothea, an eminent
English poetess ; born 1795, died 1835
W here is the Sea ? 136.
Casabianca, 227.
n rm'lock, a poisonous plant.
Her'e-sy, an error of opinion respecting
some doctrine of religion. In countries
where there is an established church, an
opinion is deemed heresy when it differs
from that of the church. The Greek word
airesis simply means a taking or choos¬
ing for one's self.
Her'on, a species of water-fowl, a great do-
vourer of fish.
IIer'on-ry, a place where herons breed.
Homer, the greatest poet of the Greeks, is
supposed to have flourished in the ninth
century before the Christian era. He
wrote the Iliad and the Od'yssey. The
allusion in the poem by Moore Q-age 23'."
is to a line by the Latin poet Horace,
which means, translated, " good IIom> r
sometimes sleeps; " in other words,
Homer is not always equally animated
and sublime.
noM'i-ciDE (from the Latin homo, man, ard
ccedo, I kill), the killing of one human
being by another ; a man-slayer.
Horatius Co-cles (that is, Iloratius the
One-eyed), a hero of ancient Rome ? said
to have defended, with two others, .ha
Sublician bridge against the whole Etrus¬
can army under Por'se-na, while the
328
THE STANDARD FOURTH REOER.
Romans broke down the bridge behind
them. When the work was nearly fin¬
ished, Horatius sent back his two com¬
panions, and, as the bridge fell, he
plunged into the river, and swam to the
city in safety, amid the arrows of the en¬
emy. The state had a statue erected in
his honor, and gave him as much land as
he could plough round in one day. See
an extract from Macaulay's ballad, page
208.
Horde (hord), a clan ; a company of wan¬
dering people, dwelling in tents or wagons.
Ho'reb, the northern end of a lofty moun¬
tainous ridge in Arabia Petraea. In the
first of Kings, chapter 19, verses 8, 9, the
prophet Elijah is described as going to a
cave on Mount Horeb, and lodging there.
The poem (page 290) is founded on the
incident thus narrated :
"And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a
great and strong wind rent the mountains
and brake in pieces the rocks before the
Lord •, but'the Lord was not in the wind :
and after the wind an earthquake ; but
the Lord was not in the earthquake:
" And after the earthquake a fire ; but
the Lord was not in the fire : and after
the fire a still small voice."
Hor-i-zon'tal, on a level with the ho-ri'zon.
This word is from the Greek ori'zo, I
bound, limit.
Household Words, a weekly magazine,
edited by Charles Pickens.
The Juvenile Culprit, 231.
now to Tbi.i. Bad News, 205.
IIum'ble. The A in this word should be
sounded ; though Walker pronounces it
um'bl. The root of the word is the Latin
humus, the ground.
Hunt, Leigh, an English poet; born 1784.
The Bitter Gourd, by, 182.
Jaffar: an Eastern Tradition, 183.
nr dro-graph-ic-al, relating to a de¬
scription of the sea, sea-coast, soundings,
&c.; also of rivers, lakes, and other
waters. The word is derived from the
Greek udbr, water, and yraph'o, 1 grave,
sketch or describe.
Hvs'sop (hiz'zup or hi'sup), a plant, the
leaves of which have an aromatic smell,
and a warm, pungent taste.
Il.-i .ic'it (il-Iis'it), unlawful; forbidden.
Immortality" of the Soul, 255, 306.
Im-pals', to fix on a sharp stake. From the
Latin in, on or in. and pnlus, a stake.
ih -pek'vi-ous, not to be penetrated or
passed through.
I N-c a xt-a'tio n, the act of enchanting ; a
magical charm, or form of words.
In -con'gru-OUS, not agreeing ; unfit, incon¬
sistent.
In-de-fat'i-ga-ble, unwearied; not ex
hausted by labor.
Ixd'ian. The most approved mode of pro¬
nouncing this word is ind'yan; though
Walker gives precedence to both in'de-an
and in'je-an.
In-bf'fa-blk, unspeakable; unutterable.
1 Iit-ex-haust-i-blr, that canp.ot be exhaust
ed. Sound the A in this word.
Infinitude of Creation, page 219.
In-flec'tion, the act of bending or turning
from a direct line or course ; a slide of the
voice in speak'ng, either up or dow i. See
Remarks pagt 62 ; Exercises page 73.
In-fract', to bravk ; violate.
In'got, a mass or wedge of geld, or other
.metal, cast in a mould.
In-i'tial (in-ish'al), beginning; placed at the
beginning ; as, the initial letters of a
name.
In-ter-jec'tion, literally the act of throwing
between; hence a word, expressive cf
emotion, thrown in between others. It la
from the Latin inter, between, andyocM,
I throw.
In-trench'ment, a fortification, or parapet,
with a trench or ditch.
In-tu-i-tive, seen by the mind immediately,
.without the intervenGon of argument or
testimony.
In'dus-try. Remarks on, 296, 307.
In-ver'sion. See if 192, page 67.
I-ron'i-cat. See page 233.
Irving, Washington, an admired American
author ; born in New York 1783.
Life at Sea, page 185.
Is'o-late (iz'o-late), to place by itself; to de¬
tach. The word is from the Italian isola,
an island.
Is'o-la-ted, standing detached from others
of a like kind. From isola (Italian), an
isle.
Isth-mus (ist'mus), a neck or narrow slip
of land by which two continents are con
nected, or by which a penin'sula is united
to the nsain land.
It is Impossible, page 311.
jAK-rAR'. The accent is on the last syl-
laroc of this word. Pronounce it to rhyme
with star. See Bar'mec-ide (pronounced
Bar'mek-ide).
Jaffar : an Oriental Tradition. 183.
Jefferson, Thomas, the third President
of the United States. Born in Virginia,
1743 ; died on the 4 th of July, 1826, sim¬
ultaneously with Jo'iiu Adams, the second
President. Quoted page 276
Jo-an of Arc — otherwise called the Maid
of Orleans. See account of, p. 190.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, born at Litchfield, in
England, iu 1709 ; died 1784. A celebrated
writer, and the author of the first good
dictionary of the English language
Quoted page 274. Extract from his Story
of Rasselas, page 291.
Jcnot (ju-116' — the j like the z in azure)
Andoche Junot, a distinguished French
general under Napoleon, was born 1791,
died 1813.
Jc'pi-ter, the supreme deity among the
Greeks and Romans ; sometimes called by
poets the thunderer.
Kentucky Pioneers, page 152.
Khemnitzer, a Russian poet, some of x hoee
writings have been trana'ated by Dr.
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
32a
John Bowring. See an extract from one
of his poems, page 143.
Knight (nlte). In ancient times the kings
and great chiefs were attended by a select
body of faithful companions, called
knights ; that is, persons knit to them by
bonds of loyalty and personal attachment.
Knowles, James Sheridan, a native of Ire-
and, born about the year 1795, and the
author of several successful plays. Ex¬
tracts from his play of " William Tell,"
page 239.
Kotzebue, a German dramatic writer; born
1761, assassinated 1819. Extract from
his play of " Pizarro," as translated by
Sheridan, page 313.
Krummacher (kroom'a-kur), Frederick
Adolphus, a German clergyman and re¬
ligious writer, whose "Parables" have
been justly admired. He was born at Teek-
lenburg in 1768 ; died at Bremen in 1845.
The Dream of Socrates, 230.
The Grain of Seed, 263.
The Two Ways, 305.
Lac'er-ate (ldss'er-ate), to tear ; to rend.
Lac-er-a'tion, the wound made by tearing;
the act of tearing.
Lair, a hiding-place; the bed of a wild
beast. The word is from to lay.
Lamartine (Lam-ar-teen'), Alphonse de,
a distinguished French writer ; born 1790.
Reception of Columbus, 149.
Landon, Letitia Elizabeth, an English
poetess , born 1802, died 1838. She be¬
came Mrs. Maclean before she died.
Hannibal's Oath, page 310.
Lap'wing, a bird of the plover family, called
also pewet.
Larch (lartsli), a deciduous (not evergreen)
tree, of the fir kind.
League, the length of three miles. The
measure is used chiefly at sea*
Le'gend (15'gend), a doubtful narrative; a
story the foundation of which is question¬
able.
Lei'sure. Between le'shur and 15zh'ur
there is little (says Smart), in point of
good usage, to choose.
Lic'tor, an officer among the Romans, who
bore an axe and fasces (a bundle of rods)
as ensigns of his office. It was the duty of
lictors to appvehend and punish offenders.
flQ'PlD (hk'vvid), fluid ; flowing, or capable
of flowing. In grammar the term
"liquid" is applied to elements that flow
into, and seem to be absorbed by, the ar¬
ticulation that follows them ; as I and r
in bla, bra j m, n and »</, in lamp, flint,
ring.
Li.e-wel'lyn. By some nations of Celtic
origin I at the beginning of words is
aspirated and doubled in writing, as in
the proper name Lloyd. See page 167.
Lokman. Account of, page 277.
Lon-gev'i-ty, great length of life. It is from
the Latin lonyus, long, and eevum, age.
Longfellow, IIenrv Wadsworth, a well-
known American poet, born about 1809.
Extract from " Rain in Summer," p. 120.
ties trb. This word is also spelled luster
28*
by Webster. It is from the Latin lustrum,
a cleansing, a purification.
Lu-cerne (lu-zern'), a lake of Switzerland,
near its centre. It is twenty-four miles
long, and from half a mile to two miles
broad.
Macaulat, Thomas Babington, an Eng¬
lish historian and poet; one of the great
est masters of English style. Born 1800
From his Roman ballads, 208.
Mach'in-a'tion (inhk-ke-na'shun ), an artful
design; a malicious scheme.
Maid of Orleans, page 190.
Mam'mon, a word used in the Scriptures ta
signify either riches or the god thereot
By poetic license Milton makes Mammon
one of the fallen angels.
Man'u-scr.pt (from the Latin mtmu, with
the hand, scriptum, written), a book oi
paper written, not printed; a writing.
Marl-Pit, a pit from which marl (a kind o!
fertilizing clay) is dug.
Massillon, Jean Baptiste, a celebrated
French preacher ; born 1663, died 1742.
The Destiny of Man, 206.
Masson, Michel, a modern French writer
author of "Celebrated Children of all
Ages and Nations."
Account of Volney Bekner, 156.
Me'di-o-cre (me'de-6-ker), middling; not
first rate.
Meed, reward; recompense.
Me-lee (ma-la1), a fight in which the com
batants are mingled in one confused mass
The word is French.
Men'tor, a wise and faithful adviser. Men¬
tor was the friend and monitor of Te-lem'
a-chus.
Mentz, a town on the left bank of the Rhine
in Germany. It is sometimes written
Mainz and Mayence.
Merry Monarch, The, page 233.
Mill-Race, the current of water that drives
a mill-wheel, or the canal in which it is
conveyed.
Miller, Johann, a German writer.
The Contented Man, page 86.
Milton, John, a great English poet, was
born in 1608, died 1674. Quoted p. 139.
Min'd-Et, a stately, regular dance.
Minute. When used as an adjective (mean¬
ing small) this word is pronounced mi¬
nute'. As a noun, meaning a small por
tion of time, it is pronounced min'it
Walker recommends that in solemn speak
ing the orthographical pronunciation, or
that which is indicated by the spelling,
should be given to the noun ; in other
words, that the u in the unaccented syl¬
lable should have its regular long sound
We know of no good speaker, however-
who follows this direction.
Mire'beau (Mee'er-bo), a town of France
near Poictiers (pwah-tee-a').
Mis'an-thrope, a hater of mankind. From •
the Greek mi-seo, I hate, and anthropt»,
man.
Miscellaneous Extracts, 180, 274.
Mississippi, Scenery of the, page 213.
Mis'tlb-toe (miz'zl-to), a plant or shrub that
330
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
grows on trees. It was held In great ven¬
eration by the Druids. This word is less
properly spelled misletoe.
Mi'tre (spelled also mi'ter), a kind of crown
worn by bishops on solemn occasions.
Mod'i-fv, to vary; to give a new form or
quality to a thing. A pre'fix modifies
the sense of a verb; the letter r may
modify the sound of the preceding vowel.
Mod'u- late. This word is from the Latin
mod'ulor, I measure off, I regulate. Ap¬
plied to sound, it means, to form sound
according to a certain key or pitch.
Mon'o-tone, uniformity of sound. The
word is from the Greek mdnos, single, and
tdnos, sound.
Mo-not'o-ny, a dull and formal uniformity
of sound.
Montgomery, James, a celebrated English
poet, chiefly celebrated for his devotional
poems ; born 1771, died 1851.
The Press, by, page 84.
The Soul, 256.
Moore, Thomas, the most celebrated of Eng¬
lish song-writers; born in Ireland in
1780, died 1852.
On the Puffing System, page 235.
More. Hannah, an English authoress ; born
1744, died 1833. Quoted page 204.
Moui.d'rr (mbld'er). This word is spelled
without the u by Webster.
Mo-zam-bique' (mo-zam-beek'), a strait of
the Indian Ocean, separating Madagascar
from the main land of E. Africa.
Mh-nio'i-pal (mu-nis'se-pal), pertaining to a
city ; as, municipal officers.
Muses. Among the Greeks and Romans
the Muses were inferior divinities supposed
to preside over poetry, literature, science
and the arts ; whence they were often
invoked by poets. Their number, orig
inally three, was afterwards increased
to nine. Modern poets, in imitation of the
ancient, sometimes call upon the Muse,
in other words, the poetical faculty, to aid
them to write.
National. Pronounced nash'un-al by
Walker, Worcester, Smart, and many
others; na-shun-al or ndsh-un-al, by
Webster.
Neph'ew. Pronounced nev'vu by Walker
and Worcester; ne/'u, by Webster.
n ep'tune, one of the fictitious deities of the
ancients, supposed to preside over the sea.
lie is generally represented with a trident,
or three-pronged sceptre.
New-found-land' (N ew-fund-land7), an
island and British colony in the Atlantic
Ocean, not far from the eastern shores of
North America.
New-Year's Eve, 125.
N iagara Falls in W inter, 244.
No'men-cla-tor, a person who calls things
or persons by their names.
Not Afraid to be Laughed At, 99.
Noun, a part of speech, which generally ex¬
presses the name (nomen in Latin) of the
thing spoken of, as horse, table, dark
n ess. See page 267.
Notes, Professor. His translation of the
19th Psalm, 310.
Oberlin, Jean Frederic, a Protestant cler¬
gyman; born at Strasbourg in 1740, died
1826. He was a distinguished friend ol
education and human improvement.
Ob-lique' (ob-lek'— also pronounced ob-
ilk'), not straight; deviating from a right
line.
Ob-tuse', blunt; dull; not pointed; ob¬
scure ; as, an obtuse sound.
Of-fence'. Spelled also offense by Web
ster.
O-lym'pi-an, pertaining to Olympus, a
mountain in Greece, fabled by the ancients
to be the abode of the gods.
O-me'ua, the last letter- of the Greek alpha¬
bet. See Alpha.
Op'ti-cal, pertaining to vision, or sight. It
is from the Greek op'tdmai, to see.
Or'tho-e-pist, one who pronounces words
correctly, or is skilled in fixing their
right pronunciation.
Osborne. The following pieces under this
name are embraced in this volume:
Trust Not to Appearances, 98.
Not Afraid to be Laughed At, 99
Vivia Perpetua, 116.
Seeking and Finding, 168.
The Petulant Man, 194.
The Iuvention of Printing, 221.
The Bell of Safety, 251.
The Miser Fitly Punished, 272.
Os'cil-late, to swing ; to vibrate.
Overcome Evil with Good, 114.
Ov'id, a celebrated Latin poet, born B. C
43. Being exiled from Rome, he passed
much of his time in unmanly lamenta¬
tions.
Pa'gan, a heathen; an idolater.
Pageant, a pompous show. This word is
pronounced pa'jent by Enfield, Perry,
Reid and Webster; paj'ent, by Walker,
Sheridan, Jameson, Sm art, Knowles and
W orcester*.
Paley, William, author of " Evidences of
Christianity," a celebrated Euglish writer;
born 1743, died 1805.
Bountiful Design of Creation, 133.
Pal'frey (pawl-fro), a small, gentle horse,
fit for ladies.
Par'a-bi.e, a short story, illustrating soma
moral or religious truth.
Par'a-mount, superior; having ascendency
over all others.
Pa-ren'tue-sis. See pages 61, 72.
Par'lia-ment (par'le-ment), the British leg'-
islative assembly of Lords and Commons
Par-rot, The, by Campbell, 304.
Parts of Speech, The, 266.
Pause. See pages 66, 74.
Pec'cant, guilty of sin. From the Latin
peccans, sinning.
Pe-dant'io, vainly affecting or displaying
learning ; boastful; ostentatious.
Pkd'ant-ry, the unseasonable ostentation of
learning.
Pelf, money ; riches.
Pe'li-on, a mountain in Thessaly, celebrated
in ancient my-thol'ogy. (By mythology
we understand a people's traditions in
regard to false gods, supernatural events,
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
331
&c.) The giants in their war with the
gods are said to have tried to heap Pelion
and Ossa on Olympus, in order to scale
heaven.
Pbn'dent, hanging; overhanging. Prom
the Latin, pendeo, I hang.
Peter the Great and the Deserter, 211.
Petersburg, St., the capital of the Russian
empire, was founded by Peter the Great
in 1703.
Petulant Man, The, 194.
Pha'raoh (fa'ro), a name signifying, in the
. Egyptian language, a king.
Phe-nom'e-non, an appearance ; something
striking to the senses. The plural is
phe-nom'e-na.
Pm-Los'o-PHY, the love of wisdom ; a desire
to learn the reasons of things. The word
is from the Greek phileo, I love, Sophia,
wisdom.
Pin'dus, the ancient name of a lofty range
of mountains in northern Greece. By
the " Muse of Pindus" (page 302) is
meant the Muse supposed to have in¬
spired the old Greek poets. See Muses.
Pi-o -nber', one who goes before to clear the
way.
Pique (peek), literally a puncture as from
something sharp*, whence, an offence.
Pitch. See pages 69, 70, 71.
Plain'tiff, he that makes a legal plaint;
opposed to defendant.
Plough (plou), spelled also plow in the
English Bible and by Webster.
Plummer, Edwin, poem by, 155.
Pol'y-carp, a native of Smyrna. He suf¬
fered martyrdom, as related in the ballad,
page 258. As he was led to death, the
prsetor offered him his life if he would re¬
vile Christ. " Eighty and six years have
I served him," was the reply, " and he
never di J me wrong; how, then, can I re¬
vile my King and my Saviour ?"
Poor Richard's Sayings, 142.
Pope, Alexander, one of the most renowned
of English poets ; born 1688, died 1744.
Quoted page 138. His " Dying Christian
to his Soul," page 257
Port-au-Prince (p6re-to-prangse').
Prac'tise. The verb is spelled by most au¬
thorities with an s; by Webster, with a c,
like the noun.
Pr.k'tor, an officer among the ancient
Romans •, a kind of judge.
Prai'rie (pra're), an extensive tract of land,
level or rolling; sometimes dotted with
little isolated groves of trees. See Isolate
in Index.
Prep-o-si'tion prep-o-zish'un), in grammar
a word usually put before another to ex¬
press a relation between different things.
It is from the Latin pra before, and pono,
I put.
Prb-pos'tbr-ous, having that first which
ought to be last; absurd; perverted.
From the Latinprm, before, andpos'terus,
latter.
Pre-rog'a-tive, a peculiar or exclusive
privilege. From the Latin prm, before,
and toijo, I ask.
?rr-scrip tion, custom continued till it has
the force of law; also, a medical reo
i-pe.
Presence op Mind, On, 87.
Press, the instrument used in printing <
whence the word is used to signify the arl
of printing, as in the poem on page 84.
Pbe-tence/. Spelled al3o pretense.
Pri'am, King of Troy during the Trojan
war. He had fifty sons.
Printing, Invention of, 221.
Pro'noun, a word used instead of a noun,
or to prevent the repetition of it. From
the Latin pro, for, and nomen, name.
Pryth'ee, or Prith'ee, a corruption of pray
thee; often used without the pronoun,
and meaning I pray thee.
Puff, as used by Moore, page 235, a tumid
or exaggerated commendation.
Puns, On, page 189.
Pyre, a funeral pile.
Quan'ti-ta-tive, estimable according to
quantity.
Queen Isabella's Resolve, 145.
Quer'u-lous, complaining; disposed to
murmur. Latin queror, I complain.
Rab'bi (rfib'bi), a title assumed by the Jew¬
ish doctors, signifying master or lord.
Rabutin (ra-bu-tftng'), a French satirist,
who, being imprisoned for a libel, com¬
plained bitterly of his fate. Died 1693.
Ram'part, an elevation round a fortified
place; a fortification ; a mound.
Rasselas, Extract from, 271.
Ra'tions, the share of provisions allowed to
soldieis or seamen.
Ra-vine (ra-veen'), along, deep hollow worn
by a stream or torrent. As used by
Coleridge (page 256), this word should bs
accented on the first syllable, in order te
preserve the harmony of the verse.
Reck, to care ; to heed. " What recks it,"
signifies " What matters it."
Re-con-noi'tre, to view ; to survey; par
ticularly for military purposes. Spelled
reconnoiter by Webster.
Re-dun'dant, superfluous ; exceeding what
is sufficient.
Re-fine'ment. As used page 268, this
word means " an improvement that might
have been dispensed with."
Reg-i-cide (rej'i-sid), a king-killer. From
the Latin rex, a king, and credo, I kill.
Reg'u-lus, The Resolve of, 187.
Re-volt', to fall off from ; to desert. This
word is pronounced re-volt' by Walker,
Smart, Jameson and others ; re-volt' by
Sheridan, Enfield, Webster,
Rhe-tor'i-cal, relating to rhetoric, or the
art of persuasion ; figurative ; oratori-
Rhythm (rithm), the effect of the cadences
in music or speech. According to Walker,
Webster and Smart, the th of this word
should be aspirate, as in th-
Richelieu. Pronounced Reesn'lfi.
Roche. Ban de la Roche (Ran dur lar Ro-shj.
Rolla and the Sentinel, page 313.
Roscoe, William, an English sriter } bora
1753, died 1831.
§32
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
The Butterfly's Ball, 121.
Rothschilds, The, 268.
Ro-tdn'di-ty, roundness.
Rod-en (roo-ang' — the a as in father,, an
ancient city of France, on the river Seine.
Rocsskac (roos-so'), Jean Jaques, a French
writer of celebrity; born at Geneva, Switz¬
erland, in 1712, died 1778. There is much
that is good and much that is bad in his
writings.
Our Obligation to Live, 264.
Ru'mi-nate, to chew the cud ; whence, to
meditate over and over.
Russia (ru'she-a — the u as in rude ; or,
riish'e-a). The Russian'empire extends over
the north-eastern part of Europe, over the
whole of northern Asia, and the north¬
western coast of N orth America.
Ba-bre (sadmr), a short sword, a little
curved towards the point. Spelled saber
by Webster.
Sac'ri-fice. According to both Webster
and Walker the last syllable of this word
should in all cases be pronounced fize.
According to Smart the verb should have
this sound, but the c in the last syllable
of the word, when used as a noun, should
have the thirty-first elementary sound
(see page 18).
Salt-Licks, places where buffaloes and
other beasts lick for salt near salt-springs.
Sar-Cas'tic, satirical; taunting ; scornful.
The Greek word sarkazo, from which this
word is derived, means " I tear flesh."
Ea'trap, in Persia the governor of a prov¬
ince. Pronounced sa'trap by Webster,
Smart, Worcester ; by some authorities,
sat'rap.
Soep'tre (sep'ter), the staff borne in the
hand by kings as the ensign of authority.
Spelled also scepter by Webster.
Schil'ler (shill'er), a celebrated German
poet; born 1759, died 1805. He wrote a
,play on the story of William Tell. It is
more consistent with history and with the
true character of Tell than Knowles's play
of the same name. See Extract page 281.
School. This word, being derived from the
Greek schdt-i (leisure, vacation from busi¬
ness), falls under the rule, IT 67, page 26,
relative to the sound of ch.
Bcott, Sir Walter, an eminent Scottish
author; born in Edinburgh 1771, died
1832. Anecdote of, page 172. Quoted
page 306.
Love of Country, 137.
Dangerous Effects of Fancy, 179.
Bcrip'tc-ral Prov'erbs, page 108.
Scrip'ture, in its primary sense a writing ;
anything written. From the Latin
scribo, I write.
Seeking and Finding, page 158
Seine (sane), a large river of France, on
which Paris is situated. It is about four
hundred and eighty miles long in a wind¬
ing course, though but two hundred and
sixty miles distant from its source to its
mouth in a straight line.
Select Sentences, 83,130.
Self-Discipline, Import vncb of, 284. |
Seventh Plague of Egypt, 173.
Shakspeare, M'illiam, the greatest of Eng
lish poets ; born at Stratford on the Avon
in 1564, died 1616. Quoted pages 73,138,
139, 218. His name is spelled sometimes
Shakespeare and Shakspere.
Sham'bles, a flesh-market; a place where
butcher's meat is sold.
Shar'on, a district of Palestine, celebrated
for its extraordinary beauty and fertility.
Shone. Pronounced shone by Webster.
Enfield and others ; shun, by Walker.
Short Poetical Extracts, 137, 202, 255.
Shrouds, the ropes extending from the
masts to the sides of a ship, to protect the
masts from the action of the wind. See
IT 158, page 58.
Si-lo'am, a fountain under the walls of Je¬
rusalem, on the east, between the city and
the brook Kidron. The waters of this
fountain ebb and'flow. The fact has not
been accounted for ; but testimony is borne
to it by as recent a traveller as Dr. Rob¬
inson.
Sil'van, relating to woods ; shady.
Smack, a small vessel, commonly rigged as
a sloop, employed mostly in the coasting
trade.
Smith, Horace, an English poet and essay¬
ist ; born 1779, died 1849.
Good Advice, 209.
Smith, Sydney, an English clergyman and
a celebrated wit; born 1768, died 1845.
On Objections to Reform, 262.
Smoul'der, burning and smoking without
vent. Spelled also smolder by Webster.
Soc'ra-tes. See pages 111, 230.
Son'net, properly a poem of fourteen lines
only, divided into four stanzas, with only
four changes of rhyme, varied in general
thus: 1221;1221; 343;434: but
English writers seldom keep to the strict
law. TVlilton and Wordsworth have writ¬
ten some of the best sonnets in our lan
guage. See page 255.
Sooth's a yer (the th aspirate as in thin), a
predicter ; a fortune-teller.
Soph'ist-ry, fallacious reasoning. A soph'-
ist is one who teaches or practises tha
arts of subtle but fallacious reasoning.
Sodthey, Robert, a celebrated English poetj
born 1774, died 1843.
The Old Man's Comforts, 115.
Socthey, Mrs., an English poetess, wife of
Robert Southey. She died 1854. Her
maiden name was Caroline Bowles.
The Christian Mariner, 302.
Spencer, William Robert, an English
poet; born 1770, died 1824. Llewellyn,
by, 167.
Spleen, a part of the bowels of animals.
Its use is not well understood; it ia
the supposed seat of melancholy, anger,
or vexation ; whence, in the time of Pope
and Addison, it was the fashionable name
for what was also called vapors, and is
now, by various phrases, attributed to tha
nerves.
Sqcir'rel. Pronounced skwlr'rel, skwSr'rel
or skwurrel; Webster says skwir'rel oi
skw&r'rel; Walkei and Smart, skw&CreL
EXPLANATORY INDEX.
333
TPe avoid all exceptional usage by
pronouncing the word skwir'rel, which is
the form preferred uy Worcester.
Staff-Officer, an officer attached to a
commander of an army.
Eta-tis'tics, a collection of facts respecting
the state of society, the condition of the
people in a nation, in relation to their em¬
ployments, health, Ac.
Btick'le, originally to interpose with a stick
between combatants; hence stickler, a
second, a sidesman, an obstinate con¬
tender.
Stith'y, an anvil.
Stockholm, the capital of Sweden ; a hand¬
some city, with a population of about
eighty-five thousand.
Sto-mach'io (sto-mak'ik), pertaining to the
stomach.
Strasbourg (stras'boorg), an ancient and
strongly-fortified city of France, on its
east frontier. It has a celebrated ca-
the'dral, founded A. D. 504.
Stress, force ; violence ; strain.
Sub'lu-na-ry, terrestrial; earthly. From
the Latin sub, under, and luna, the moon.
Bub-ter-ra'ne-an, being or lying under the
surface of the earth. From the Latin
sub, under, and terra, the earth.
Sub'tle (sut'tl), sly ; artful 5 cunning. See
IT 65, page 26.
Suite (sweet), retinue ; company ; series.
Su-per-fi'cial (su-per-fish'al),. being on the
surface ; not penetrating the substance of
a thing.
Su per-nu'mer-a-ry, a person or thing be¬
yond what is necessary. From the Latin
super, beyond, and Humerus, number.
Sur'name, an additional name ; the family
name as being additional to the first
name. From the Latin super, above,
and nomen, name.
Sus-pi-ra'tion, the act of sighing, or fetching
a long and deep breath. From the Latin
suspi'ro, I sigh.
Sword. Pronounced sbrd by Sheridan,
Walker, Smart, Worcester; sword or
sard, by Webster.
Syo'o-phant (sik'o-fint), a mean flatterer ;
a tale-bearer.
Etl-lab-i-ca'tion, the act or method of di¬
viding words into syllables.
SVgus, a river which flows partly in Spain
and partly in Portugal. Its length, from
Its source to its mouth, in the Atlantic
Ocean, a little west of Lisbon, is about
650 miles.
Ta De'um, a hymn of thanksgiving, named
from the first words (te de-um lau-da'-
mus, — we praise thee, 0 God).
Cell, William, a native of the village of
Burglen, near Altorf, in Switzerland, who
lived towards the end of the thirteenth and
during the first half of the fourteenth cen¬
tury. Gesler, one of the bailiffs of Albert
I., of Austria, whose object it was to sup¬
press the spirit of liberty in Switzerland,
aniODg other vexatious acts is said to
have caused the ducal hat of Austria to
lie raised on a pole in the market-p'ace
of Altorf, and to have commanded that
every one who passed the pole should ut>
cover his head. This Tell refused to do;
whereupon he was arrested and con¬
demned to shoot an apple from his son's
head, which he accomplished. But he
was retained a prisoner for some time, till,
while being conveyed across the lake to
Gesler's castle, he succeeded in making
his escape. He then lay in wait for Gesler,
who was proceeding to Kussuacht — met
him in a narrow defile, and shot him
through the heart. This happened tow¬
ards the end of the year 1307. Two plays
have been founded on these incidents; one
by Knowles, the Irish dramatist, and one
by the celebrated German poet, Schiller
See Extracts, pages 239, 281.
Temple, Sir William, an English writer,
born 1628, died 1699. Quoted pag6 274.
TeiI-mi-na'tion-al, pertaining to or form¬
ing the end or concluding syllable.
The'o-ry, a doctrine or scheme of things,
without reference to practice 5 specula¬
tion.
There'foIie. Pronounced ther'ffir (the e
as in her) by Sheridan, Walker, Smart.
Webster and Worcester.
Thomson, James, a favorite poet; born in
Scotland in 1700, died 1748. Quoted 140
161.
Ti-a'ra, an ornament for the head ; a dia
dem.
Time and Beauty, 276.
Tiny. Pronounced ti'ne by Sheridan,
Walker, Smart, Worcestertin'y, by
Webster.
Tour'ist (toor'ist), one who makes a tour, or
makes a journey in a circuit.
Tourn'a-ment, a tilt; a mock fight or mil
itary sport. Pronounced toor'na-ment
by Walker, Smart, Worcester, Sheridan,
Perry ; tur'na-ment, by Webster.
Tra'jan, a Roman emperor ; born A. D. 52,
died 117. He was surnamed Optimus
(the best).
Trav'el-ler. This is one of a class of
words in which, according lo Webster, the
final consonant of the verb ought not to be
doubled in its derivatives, the accent not
falling on the last syllable of the verb. In
the following words, counseled, quarreled,
worshiped, equaled, labeled, marveled,
penciled, rivaled, and some others, he
omits the superfluous consonant. Both
Dr. Lowth and Walker favored but did
not adopt this reform.
Triph'thong, a union of three vowels in on#
sound, as ieu in lieu. See 1T 64, page 26-
According to Webster, this word should
be pronounced trif'thong, and diphthong
dif'thong. This pronunciation is most in
accordance with the Greek origin of the
words ; but Walker says dip'thong and
*rip'thony.
Trough. Pronounced trauf.
Tuilerif.s (tweel-ree'), the residence of the
French monarchs, on the right bank oi the
Seine, in Paris.
Tully. See Cicero.
Tyrant of Switzerland, The. 339.
334
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
Unbelief Effect of, 306.
U'sancb, usury ; interest for money.
vaunt, to brag ; to display. According to
Webster the au of this word should haTe
the first elementary sound (see page 34);
according to Walker and others, the
fourth (see page 35). Webster's pronun¬
ciation of the word is that generally pre¬
ferred in the United States.
Veer, to turn ; as, the wind veers.
Ve'nal, mercenary ; purchasable. From
the Latin veneo. to be sold.
Veracity a Moral Law, 309.
Verb (from the Latin verbum, a word), a
part of speech that expresses action, mo¬
tion, being, suffering, or a request or com¬
mand to do or refrain from doing.
Ver-bose', abounding in words ; prolix.
Verse, in poetry properly a single line ;
but the word is sometimes used to desig¬
nate a stanza. From the Latin verto, I
turn.
Vic'ar (vik-ar), one who acts in nlace of
another. From the Latin vicis, change,
alternation.
Vict'cals (vit'tls). From the Latin victus,
sustenance, food.
Vinkt, Madame. Original translations from
the French of, pages 77,145, 148.
Viv'i-a Per-pet'u-a, page 116.
Viz'ier, a Turkish or Persian minister of
state. Pronounced viz-yer (the accent
on the second syllable), by Hunt, page
183 ; more generally pronounced with the
accent on the first syllable.
Vo'cal, having a voice ; pertaining to the
voice. A vocal consonant is distinguished
from an aspirate by being more purely
enunciated by the voice, and with a less
decided effort and sound of the breath.
Volney Bekner, page 156.
Vol'ume (from the Latin votvo, I roll). By
volume of voice or sound, we simply mean
its extent of tone or power.
Vowels. See page 20 For Exercises on
the Elementary Vowel Sounds, see p. 34.
Wan (won), pale ; languid.
Wane (woud), a staff of authority ; a divin¬
ing-rod. This word is pronounced wand
by Enfield ; and sometimes so in poetry.
Washington, George, born Feb. 22d, 1732,
near the banks of the Potomac, in the
county of Westmoreland, Virginia-, died
1799. Eulogized by Brougham, 228.
From Washington'* Writings, 180.
Wayland, Key. Francis, President of
Brown University. Quoted, page 309.
Wear. In navigation, to wear (originally
veer) is to put the ship on another tack,
by turning her round, stern toward th«
wind.
Webster, Daniel, born in Salisbury, New
Hampshire, January 18, 1782 •, died at
Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24th, 1852.
Duties of the American Citizen, 232.
The Future of America, 236.
Importance of Self-Discipline, 284.
Wedgwood, Josiah, born in England 1730,
died 1795. lie made great improvements
in the art of pottery, and a species of
stone-ware is still called by his name.
Welcome to the Rhine, 279.
Were, the imperfect tense plural of be.
Pronounced wer, rhyming with her.
Where'fore. Pronounced hwar'/Or by
Walker, Webster and Worcester; huiirfoT
by Sheridan.
Wig'wam (wig'wawm), an Indian cabin or
hut. *■
Williams, Rev. C. It is Impossible, 311.
Wind, a current of air. The i in this word
is sometimes pronounced long; in poetry,
rhyming with mind.
Wist'ful, earnest; attentive; full of
thought.
With-hold'. The th in this word has its
vocal sound. See Exercises under the
twenty-sixth elementary sound, page 40.
Woodhcll, 198.
Wound. Pronounced woond by Worcester,
Sheridan, Smart ; wound (rhyming with
sound), by Enfield and Webster. Walker
allows both modes, but gives his prefer¬
ence to the first.
Yea. Pronounced ya or ye ; ya by Wor¬
cester, Enfield, Smart, lteid ; ye by
Sheridan, Walker, Perry, Webster.
Zimmerman, John George, a German writer,
born 1728, died 1795. He wrote a popular
treatise on Solitude. Quoted page 307.
Zion, or Sign, the name of one of the moun¬
tains on which Jerusalem was t jilt. II
was sometimes called " the city of Da¬
vid ; ' also, " the holy hill;" whence it
was poetically used to signify the home of
the blsssed in heaven.
PREFIXES AND POSTFIXES.
J Prefix it that which is put be/ore, and a Postfix {or affix) that which it put after
another word, to make with it a new word.
1. Prefixes of English or Saxon Origin.
A, on or in, as o-foot, a-bed.
Be, about, as besprinkle ; also for or be¬
fore, as bespeak.
En, in or on, as encircle; also make, as
enfeeble. {En is changed into em in
roots beginning with b or p, as embark,
empower.)
Fore, before, as foresee.
Slis, error or defect, as misdeed.
Out, excess or superiority, as outran.
Over, eminence or excess, as overcharge.
Un, before an adjective or adverb, signifies
not, as unworthy ; un, before a verb, sig¬
nifies the undoing of the act expressed
by the verb, as unfetter. Un is some¬
times prefixed to a verb without altering
the sense, as loose, unloose.
Up, motion upwards, as upstart; also
subversion, as upset.
With,from or against, as withdraw, with
stand.
2. Prefixes of Latin Origin.
A, ab, abs, from or away, as overt, absolve,
abstain.
Ad, to, as adhere. {Ad assumes the vari¬
ous forms of a, ac, of, ag, al, an, ap, ar,
as, at, according to the commencing letter
of the root with which it is joined ; as,
ascend, accede, a/fix, aggrandize, atlot,
annex, appeal, arrest, assume, attract.)
Am, round about, as ambient.
An-te, before, as antecedent.
Ciicum, round or about, as circumnavi¬
gate. {Circum also takes the form circu,
as circuit.)
Cis, on this side, as cisalpine.
Con, together, as convoke. {Con takes
also the various forms of co, cog, col,
com, cor, as co-operate, cognate, collect,
commotion, correlative.)
Contra, against, as contradict. {Contra
sometimes takes the form counter, as
counterbalance.)
I)e, down, as dejected.
Pis, asunder, as distract; also negation or
undoing, as disarm. {Dis has also the
forms of di and dif, as diverge, di/fuse.)
E, ex, out of, as egress, exclude. {E, ex,
take also the form of ec, ef, as eccentric,
e/flux.)
Extra, beyond, as extraordinary.
In, before an f-ljective, signifies not, as in¬
active ; in, before a verb, signifies in or
into, as inject. {In has also the various
forms of ig, il, im, ir, as ignoble, illumin¬
ate, import, irradiate.)
Inter, between, as intervene.
Intro, to, within, as introduce.
Juxta, nigh to, as Juxtaposition.
Ob, in the way of, or opposition, as ob¬
stacle. {Ob has also the various forms
of oc, of, o, op, os, as occur, offend,
omit, oppose, osCfentation.)
Per, through, or thoroughly, as perforate,
perfect. {Per has also the form of pel, at
peilucid.)
Post, after, as postdiluvian.
Pre, or prse, before, as predict.
Preter or praeter, past or beyond, as pre
fernatural
Pro, for, forth, or forward, as pronoun
provoke, proceed.
Re, back or again, as retract, rebuild.
Retro, backwards, as retrospect.
Se, aside or apart, as secede.
Si-ne, without, as sinecure. {Sine h»>
also the form of sim and sin, as simplr
sincere.)
Sub, under or after, as* subside. {Su
has also the forms of sue, suf, sug, sup
sue contracted for subs, as succeed, su,
fuse suggest, suppress, suspend.)
Subter, under or beneath, as subterfuge.
Super, above or over, as superfluous
{Super has also the French form sur, a
surmount.)
Trans, over from one place to another, a
transport.
Ultra, beyond, is ultramundane
336
THE STANDARD FOURTH READER.
S-,vTkefixe3 oi
A or air, without or privation, as .apathy,
anonymous*, - "
Amphi, both or the two, as amphibious.
Ana, through or up, as anatomy.
Anti, against, as Antichrist. (Anti has.
sometimes the contracted form.of ani, as
antarctic.) >, i.
Apo, from or away, as lopostasy. (Apo.
has sometimes the contracted form of a'p,
as aphelion.^
Cata, down, as catarrh. (Cata has also
the form of cat, as catechize.)
Dia, through, as diaphanous.
■Epi, upon, as epitaph, (Epi has also the
form of ep, as ephemeral.)
4, Postfixes
Nouns ending in an, ant, ar, ard,aray,
eer, ent, er, ist, ive, or, ster, denote the
agent or doer ; as, -comedian, accountant,
liar, dotard, adversary, charioteer, student,
maker, elocutionist, representative, profess¬
or, maltster.
Nouns ending in ate, ee, ite, denote the
person or thing acted upon,'being derived
from the Latin and French terminations of
the past participle atus, itus, and ee ;
as, mandate, lessee, favorite.
Nouns ending in acy, age, ance, ancy,
ence, ency,hood, tion or sion, ism,ment,
mony, ness, ry, ship, th, tude, ty or ity,
ure,y, denote being, or a state of being ;
as, effeminacy, heritage, inheritance, con¬
stancy, reference, excellency, neighbor¬
hood, combustion, heroism, judgment, par¬
simony, loudness, adversary, worship,
health, latitude, plenty, ability, judicature,
butchery.
Nouns ending in dom, ic, ick, denote
Jurisdiction ; as, dukedom, bishopric, bail-
ist ick. m
Nouns ending in logy denote treating
of; as, concho/oyy.
Nouns ending in let, kin, ling, ock, cle,
denote littleness; as, braceief, lambhin,
gosling, hilloch, particfe.
Adjectives ending in ac, al, an, ane, ar,
vy, en, ic or ical, He, ine, orv, denote
Greek Origin.
Hyper,lover and above, as hypercritical.
llypo} uhde.r,o.3 hypo thesis.
Meta," chanipj;, as metamorphosis. (Meta
has also the form of met. as method.)
Par^j near to, or side-ky side, as if for the
J-purpose of comparison, and hence some¬
times Similarity, and jometiines contra¬
riety, as paradox. (Para has also tho
*- form of par, as parody.)
Peri, round about, as ppriph'rasis.
Hyn, together, as synthesis. (Syn has
also the forms sy, syl, sym, as system,
syflogism, sympathy.)*
or Affixes,
of or belonging to; as, ammoniac, claustra/,
meridian*, mundane, secular, military,
brazen, eccentric, pueriie, masculine, trans¬
itory.
Adjectives ending in ate, ful, ose, ous,
some, y, denote possessing or abound
ing in ; as, precipitate, skil/ui, verbose,
pompous, irksome, pithy.
Adjectives ending in ish, like, ly, de
note likeness.— Ish sometimes signifies
diminution ; as, reddish, a little red ; in most
cases it implies some degree of contempt;
as, womanish, soldier/ihe, man ly.
Adjectives ending in ent, ive, denote ac
five capacity ; as, resplendent, persuasive
Adjectives ending in able, ible, denote
passive capacity ; as, amiable, flexible.
Adjectives ending in less denote priva¬
tion ; as, housetess.
Verbs ending in ate, en, fy,ish, ise, ize,
denote to make ; as,- elongate, embolden,
beauti/y, embellish, criticise, harmonize.
Words ending in escent denote pro
gression ; as, convalescent.
Words ending in ward denote direc¬
tion ; as, upicard, downward, northward.
Wo-ds ending in ite, ote, at, an, ish
ard, d mote of a particular nation, eect
Ac. ; as, Israelite, Sciote, Austrian, Irish,
English, Savoyard.