ty4^....!^..v:
COS
(r../'*:^.K...
GIFT OF
W. H. Ivie
SANDERS'
UNION FIFTH READER:
EMBRACING A FULL EXPOSITION OF THE
PRINCIPLES OF RHETORICAL READING ;
NUMEROUS EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE, BOTH IN PROSE AND POETRY
FROM THE BEST WRITERS; AND WITH LITERARY AND
I?IOGRAPHICAL NOTES.
FOR y.HF, ,. , , ,
HIGHER CLASSES IN SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, ETC.
By CHARLES W. SANDERS, A.M.,
AUTHOR Ot A SEKIE3 OK SCHOOL-READKUS, TOUNG LADIES' READER, Sl'EAKER, UMIOH
8PELLBR, ANALYSIS OF KNGLISU WORDS, ELOCUTIONARY CHART, ETC.
IVISON, BLAKEMAN, TAYLOR & CO.,
PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK AND CHICAGO.
1S7S.
NEWLY ILLUSTRATED AND ENLARGED.
SANDERS' PRIMARY SPELLER ^
SANDERS FICTORIA L PRIMER. Bound (Green Covera)
SANDERS' NEW SPELLER, DEFJNER, AND ANALYZER.
SANDERS' NEW FIRST READER
SANDERS' NEW SECOND READER
BANDERS' NEW THIRD READER.
SANDERS' NEW FOURTH READER
SANDERS NEW FIFTH READER. (Eevised)
SANDERS' HIGH SCHOOL READER
SANDERS' YOUNG LADIES' READER
SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER
SANDERS' ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH WORDS,
SANDERS' ELOCUTIONARY CHART
SANDERS' PRIMARY HAND CARDS, Six in a Set
AANDERS' PRIMARY '^(^OOL ClURm' tai^e Type, for Teaching
Primary Schools in Concert. 8^cfe. ou^'Cards..'
SANDERS' UNION SERIES OF READERS,
JUST PUBLISHED.
BANDERS' UNION SPELLER
BANDERS' UNION PRIMER ,
SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER ONE ,
SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER TWO
SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER THREE ,
SANDERS ' UNION READER, NUMBER FOUR
SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER FIVE
BANDERS' UNION SPEAKER
jLntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
OHAELES W. SANDERS,
ci the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.
./
EDUCATION DEPT.
PREFACE.
The demand for a greater variety of reading exercises suit-
able for the more advanced classes in our public schools and
academies, has led to the preparation of the present volume,
The Union Fifth Reader ; and the title of the previously so-
called Union Fifth Reader has been changed, and that book
will hereafter be styled The Union Sixth, or Rhetorical
Reader.
In the preparation of the present volume, a wide range of
selections has been made in order to present every variety
of style, and the best examples for the exercise of Rhetorical
reading, and such as are peculiarly adapted to the expression
of every tone and modulation of the human voice, whether
grave or gay, humorous or pathetic, simple or declamatory.
Of these exercises, both oi prose and poetry, a large por-
tion has been selected from speeches and writings of recent
date, and which, of course, have never been used in any other
reading-book. These lessons breathe forth the sentiments of
loyalty, and tend to inspire the spirit of patriotism, and a deeper
devotion to the cause of our republican institutions, and to the
welfare of our whole country.
The principles of Elocution, which have been explained and
illustrated by examples in the fore part of the Union Fourth
and Sixth Readers, and which have been tested by actual ex-
periment in the schoolroom by thousands of experienced teach-
ers, have been adopted in the present work. These principles
should be thoroughly studied and understood by the pupil in
(vi56006 '"
iv PKEFACE.
order to express the various sentiments, presented in the Read-
ing Lessons, in the most elegant and appropriate manner.
That the pupil may clearly understand the subjects, all the
classical terms, and such words and phrases as seem to require
it, have been explained. Wherever allusion is made to proper
names, such biographical or historical account has been given
of them, in brief notes, as a thorough knowledge of the subject
seemed to demand ; and, wherever there is a liability to mistake,
the pronunciation of the words has also been given, and, in
some cases, their analysis and definitions.
In the preparation of reading-books for the youth of our
country, it is of the utmost importance to place before their
minds lessons not only of literary accuracy^ but also those of a
high moral character. In these respects, the present work, it
is believed, will be found to contain nothing at least objection-
able, even to the most fastidious.
Nearly thirty years ago, the author published his first series
of reading-books. Since that time, he has contributed to this
department of literature Twenty-two Volumes of- lessons for
reading and speaking. These books have been more exten-
sively used in the schools of this country than any other ; and
several of the lower numbers have been translated into the dia-
lects of other nations, and are now in use in the schools of for-
eign countries ; an evidence of the appreciation in which they
are held by educators abroad, and of their adaptedness to the
purposes of juvenile instruction.
That the Union Fifth Reader may serve to promote the
great cause of education, create a lively interest in the reading
class, improve the moral and intellectual powers of the youth
of our country, and merit that favor which has been shown to
the other numbers of the Union Series, has been the aim of the
author in its preparation.
New York, July, 1867.
CONTENTS.
PART FIRST.
ELOCUTION.
FAOB.
Section I. — Articulation 13
Elementary Sounds of the Letters 14
Substitutes for the Vowel Elements 15
Substitutes for the Consonant Elements 16
Errors in Articulation 16
Combinations of Consonants 17, 18
Examples to illustrate Indistinct Articulation 19
Miscellaneous Examples 20
Section II. — Accent and Emphasis 21
Examples of Primary and Secondary Accent 21
Examples of Intensive Emphasis 22
Examples of Absolute Emphasis 23
Examples of Antithetic Emphasis 24
Section III. — Inflections 25
Monotone 26
Rising and Falling Inflections 27
Rules for the Use of Inflections 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33
The Circumflex 34
Section IV. — Modulation 35
Pitch of Voice 36
Quantity 37
Rules for Quantity 38
Quality 39
Rules for Quality 40
Notation in Modulation 41
Examples for Exercise in Modulation 41, 42, 43, 44
Section V. — The Rhetorical Pause 45, 46
Vi ' CONTENTS.
PABT SECOND.
I.ESSON. FAOB.
1. Achievements and Dignity of Labor Rev. Newman Hall, 47
2. Powers of the Hand Dr. George Wilson, 50
3. There's Work Enough to do Anon., 53
4. Fields for Labor Mrs. Ellen H. Gates, 55
5. Where there's a Will, there's a Wat J. G. Saxe, 56
6. The Offices of Memory May Burns, 58
7. The Memory of Joy Greenwood, 62
8. The House by the Rolling River Linna Schenk, 66
9. The Light at Home 68
10. The Soldier Bird H. H. Brownell, 69
11. The Battle-Field 73
12. Song of the Cannon-Ball Anon., 76
13. The Children of the Battle-Field James G. Clark, 78
14. The Brave at Home Anon., 80
15. The Soldier's Reprieve A^. Y. Observer, 81
16. The Last Ride Miss Mulock, 86
17. Passing to the Supernal Sat. Eve. Post, 90
18. Sunshine and Showers 91
19. Education, our own Work John Todd, 94
20. Self-Culturb Channing, 97
21. The Skater and the Wolves Whitehead, 100
22. Purity of Character Henry Ward Beecher, 104
23. The Three Sisters. — An Allegory 105
24. Deserve It Anon., 107
25. The Bridal Wine-Cup 110
jr 26. Desolating Effects of Intemperance W. Irving, 114
27. Eulogy on Cold Water Paul Denton, 115
28. Profaneness E. H. Chapin, 117
29. Voices of God Lon. Brit. Magazine, 118
30. Better than Gold Anon., 120
31. The Angel of the Leaves. — An Allegory . .Hannah F. Gould, 122
32. The World of Chance John Todd, 125
33. The World of Chance {continued) John Todd, 128
34. No God N. K. Richardson, 131
35. The Presence op God Amelia B. Welby, 133
36. Integrity D.S. Dickinson, 136
37. The Visible and the Invisible Ephraim Peahody, 138
38. When I am Old Caroline A. Briggs, 143
39. A Retrospective Review Thomas Hood, 145
CONTENTS. vu
XESSOjr. PAGE,
40. Taking a Whale R. Starbuck, 147
41. Leviathan, or the Great Whale. .From the French of Michdet, 153
42. The Game of Life J. G. Saxe, 156
43. Keep in Step Anon., 159
44. Encouragements in the Pursuit of Knowledge . JEJ. Everett, 160
45. The Capacity of an Hour John Foster, 165
46. Evening Prayer Channing, 167
47. The Time for Prayer Anon., 169
48. One by One Adelaide A: Procter, 171
49. Inventive Genius and Labor Elihu Burritt, 172
50. The Results of Work Dr. J. G. Holland,. 175
51. Our Deeds Imperishable L. II. Grindon, 178
-^52. The Uses of Life Harper's Magazine, 180
53. Lofty Aspirations Dem. Review, 183
54. General Washington's Escape Anon., 185
55. Exciting Adventure with AN Indian. .Zj/acl-M;ooc?'s ifcfcf^a«{ne, 190
56. Choice Extracts : —
I. Decay of the American Ii^diass. .Charles Sprague, 200
II. Lament of an Indian Chief 200
III. Effects of our Deeds 201
IV. Man's Mortality S. Wastell, 201
V. Saving for Old Age 202
VI. Be Firm ; Mrs. S. C. Mayo, 203
VII. The Young Voyager. . . , Rev. Albert Barnes, 204
VIII. Voyage of Life Henry Ware, Jun., 205
IX. The Beauties of NatuiiE Moodie, 205
X. Cheer Up 206
57. Earnestness Ajion., 207
58. Incentives to Culture R. F. Trowhridge, 213
59. " And Then ? " 215
60. What is Life ? Charles D. Drake, 21 7
61. Pleasures of Knowledge Sydney Smith, 220
62. Man and the Industrial Arts Dr. George Wilson, 225
63. The Beautiful E. H. Burrington, 232
64. The Bright Flowers Anon., 234
65. The Summer Rain Helen Mitchell, 235
66. A Noble Revenge Thomas De Quincey, 236
67. Story of the Siege of Calais Henry Brooke, 239
68. The True Legion of Honor Anon., 244
69. Conscience James Linen, 246
70. Moral and Religious Culture Sat. Eve. Post, 249
71. Desire and Means of Happiness Horace Mann, 254
viil CONTENTS.
LESSON. PAOB.
72. The Invention of Printing. — A Dialogue Osborne, 258
73. The Three Voices Anon., 261
74. Action of Climate upon Man Prof. Arnold Guyot, 262
75. The Wonders of Civilization Amott, 264
76. The Love of Truth 265
77. Aspirations of Youth George William Curtis, 267
78. The Grave of the Year G. A. Gamage, 269
79. Another Year 271
80. The Telescope and the Microscope Chalmers^ 273
81. Immensity of the Universe 0. M. Mitchel, 275
82. The First Predicter of an Eclipse 0. M. Mitchel, 277
83. The Song of Light W. P. Palmer, 281
84. Chant and Chorus op the Planets Anna Blackicell, 283
85. Insignificance of the Earth Chalmers, 285
86. Honor to the Projector of the Atlantic Cable. 4. A. Low, 288
87. Recovery of the Lost Atlantic Cable... Cyn« W. Field, 291
88. How Cyrus laid the Cable J. G. Saxe, 295
89. The Atlantic Telegraph Rev. George Lansing Taylor, 297
90. The Electric Telegraph Anon., 299
91. Beatitudes Bible, 301
92. The Pride of Ignorance S. W. Taylor, 304
93. Science and Art D. Braivster, 308
94. Advance , D. F. McCarthy, 311
95. The Polar Star Westby Gibson, 313
96. Mountains E. M. Morse, 315
97. The Alps Willis Gaylord Clark, 318
98. Desire to be remembered 319
99. The Desire of Reputation Rev. Albert Barnes, 321
100. Vanity of Earthly Fame Henry Kirke White, 326
101. " This, too, must pass away" Mrs. 'F. C. Howarth, 328
102. God, the True Object of Confidence Greenwood, 329
103. Inspiration of Living Genius Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 333
104. Genius and Originality Rev. Dr. G. W. Eaton, 336
105. Hurrying On 338
106. The People's Advent Gerald Massey, 339
107. Discovery op Manhattan ^.Mary L. Booth, 341
108. Choice Extracts : —
I. Personal Religion WdMer, 345
n. The Beam of Devotion Gex>rge P. Morris, 347
III. Progress 347
IV. Love Due to the Creator G. Griffin, 348
V. Influence of Gold Addison, 348
CONTENTS. Ix
LESSON-. PAGE,
108. Choice Extracts {continued) : —
VI. Ingratitude Shakspeare, 349
VII. The Bible Wayland, 349
VIII. -The Moments J. L. Eggleston, 350
IX. The War-Horse Book of Job, 351
X. Seclusion Beattie, 351
XI. The Power of Little Things Smiles, 352
f^SirlMJ^UlE^CB Mrs. S. T. Bolton, 353
109. The Sea Ftvm the French ofMchelet, 353
110. A Wild Night at Sea Charles Dickens, 357
111. The Sailor's Early Home Rev. S. D. Phelps, 359
112. The Fireman R. T. Conrad, 361
113. Benefits of Agriculture D. S. Dickinson, 363
114. The Work of Eloquence Orville Dewey, 366
115. The Voice and the Pen D. F. McCarthy, 368
116. The Burial of Moses Anon., 370
117. Mount Tabor J. T. Headley, 372
118. Mount Tabor [continued ) J. T. Headley, S11
119. Nathan Hale Francis M, Finch, 379
120. Loss of the Union Irreparable Webster, 381
121. Stars in my Country's Sky Mrs. L. H. Sigoumey, 384
122. God bless our Stars B. F. Taylor, 386
123. Washington's Journey to his Inauguration... W. Irving, 388
124. Lincoln's Journey to his Inauguration. . .L. H. Whitney, 394
125. Day-Star of Liberty M. A. Moses, 396
126. " On to Freedom " A. J. H. Duganne, 398
127. Address to the Returned Soldiers, .fiey. J. M. Manning, 401
128. The Honored Dead. . ^* Henry Ward Beecher, 403
129. The Soldier's Dirge Col. O'Hara, 405
130. The Widowed Sword Anon., 407
131. " Good-By, Old Arm, Good-By ! " George Cooper, 408
132. The Teacher the Hope of A^ierica Samuel Fells, 410
133. True Glory of a Nation Bishop Whipple, 412
134. The Battle of Life Anne C. Lynch, 414
135. The Historian's Reflections Blake, 417
136. True Reformers Horace Greeley, 420
137. Unjust National Acquisitions Thomas Corwin, 422
138. Vanity of Earthly Treasures Anon., 426
139. Choice Extracts: —
I. The Widow's Two Mites Webster, 428
II. The Honey-Bee 429
>-^I. Virtue Colton, 430
X CONTENTS.
LESSOK. PAGE.
139. Choice Extracts {continued) : —
IV. Happiness Pope, 430
V. Advance op Science 431
VI. The Struggle of Life Beattie, 432
yjlr Antiquity Colton, 432
^Vlll. Beauty Shakspeare, 433
IX. Cunning and Discretion Addison, 433
X. Procrastination Persius, 434
140. All Nature speaks op a Spirit-World Anon., 434
141. "How Manifold are Thy Works!" Miss A.Arnold, 436
142. Times and Seasons L. H. Grindon, 437
143. Earth, Air, and Sea Maury, 440
144. The Cloud Shelley, 443
145. Eulogy on Daniel Webster Lewis Gaylord Clark, 446
146. Scenery of Palestine Itev. J. P. Newman, 452
147. Birth-Day Reflections George D. Prentice, 456
148. Paul at Athens John Angell James, 459
149. Paul at Athens {continued) John Angell James, 460
150. Truth and Freedom William D. Gallagher, 464
151. Not Dead, but Sleeping H. A. Gere, 465
152. The Sphinx and the Great Pyramid Rev. S. I. Prime, 467
153. Antiquity of Egypt Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 471
154. Choice Extracts: —
I. Bugle Song '. Tennyson, 474
II. The Age of Progress Charles Sumner, 475
III. Clear the Way 475
IV. Our Sages and Heroes Charles Sprague, 476
V. The American Union Webster, 477
VI. Expulsion from Paradise Milton, 477
VII. Washington's Monument R. C. Winthrop, 478
VIII. The Lord our Provider Wordsworth, 479
IX. Moral and Republican Principles. .Edward Everett, 479
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS.
PAGE.
Addison 1 348,433
Arnold, Miss A 436
Arnott 204
Barnes, Albert 204, 321
Beattie 351,432
Beecher, Hknry Ward . . 104, 403
Bible 301
Blackwell, Anna 283
Blake 417
Bolton, Mrs. S. T 353
Book of Job 351
Booth, Mary L 341
Brewster, D 308
Briggs, Caroline A 143
Brooke, Henry 239
Brownell, H.H 69
Burns, Islay 58
Burrington, E. H 232
BURiilTT, Elihu 172
Chalmers 273, 285
Channing 97, 167
Chapin, E. H 117
Clark, James G 78
Clark, Lewis Gaylord .... 446
Clark, Willis Gaylord .... 318
COLTON 430,432
Conrad, R. T 361
Cooper, George 408
Cor win, Thomas 422
Curtis, George William . . . 267
PAGE.
Denton, Paul 115
Be Quincey, Thomas 236
Dewey, Orville 305
Dickens, Charles 357
Dickinson, D. S 136, 363
Drake, Charles D 217
DUGANNE, a. J. H 398
Eaton, Rev. Dr. G. W. . . . o . 336
Eells, Samuel , . , 410
Eggleston, J. L 350
Everett, Edward 160,479
Field, Cyrus W . 291
Finch, Francis M ,379
Foster, John 165
Gallagher, William D 464
Gamage, G. a 269
Gere, H. A 465
Gibson, Westby 313
Gould, Hannah F 122
Greeley, Horace 420
Greenwood 62, .329
Griffin, G 348
Grindon, L. H 178, 437
GuYOT, Prof. Arnold 262
Hall, Rev. Newman 47
Headley, J. T 372, 377
Holland, Dr. J. G 175
Hood, Thomas 145
xi
Xll
AI^PHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS.
PAOK.
HoWARTH, Mrs. E. C 328
IRVINQ, W 114, 388
James, John Angell 459
Linen, James 246
Low, A. A 288
Lynch, Anne C 414
Magazine, Blackwood's .... 190
Magazine, Harper's 180
3IAGAZINE, London British . . 118
Mann, Horace 254
Manning, Rev. J. M 401
Massey, Gerald 339
Maury 440
Mayo, Mrs. S. C 203
M'Carthy, D. F 311,368
Michelet, French of . . . 153, 353
Milton 477
MiTCHEL, O. M 275, 277
Mitchell, Helen ........ 235
MOODIE 205
Morris, George P 347
Morse, E. M 315
Moses, M. A. . • 396
Mulock, Miss 86
Newman, Rev. J. P 452
Observer, N. Y 81
O'Hara, Col 405
Osborne 258
Palmer, William Pitt ..... 281
Peabody, Ephraim 138
Persius 434
Phelps, Rev. S. D 359
PoPK 430
PAGB,
Post, Saturday Evening . 90, 249
Prentice, George D 456
Prime, Rev. S. 1 467
Procter, Adelaide A 171
Review, Democratic 183
Richardson, N. K 131
SAXE, J. G 66, 156, 295
Schenk, Linna 06
Shakspeare 349, 433
Shelley 443
SiGOURNEY, Mrs. L. H 384
Smiles 352
Smith, Mrs. E. Oakes . . . 333, 471
Smith, Sydney 220
Spraguk, Charles 200, 476
Starbuck, R 147
Sumner, Charles 475
Taylor, B. F .386
Taylor, Rev. Geo. Lansing . . 297
Taylor, S. W 304
Tennyson 474
Todd, John 94, 125, 128
Trowbridge, R. F 213
Ware, Henry, Jun 205
Wastell, S 201
Wayland 349
Webster 345,381,428,477
Welby, Amelia B 133
Whipple, Bishop 412
White, Henry Kirke 326
Whitehead 100
Whitney, L. H 394
Wilson, Dr. George .... 50, 225
WiNTHROP, R. C 478
Wordsworth 479
SANDEES'
UNION EEADER
NUMBER FIVE.
PAR.T FIRST.
ELOCUTION. " . "
Elocution is the art of delivering written or extempo-
raneous composition with force, propriety, and ease.
It deals, therefore, with words, not only as individuals, but as
members of a sentence, and parts of a connected discourse :
including every thing necessary to the just expression of the
sense. Accordingly, it demands, in a special manner, attentioik
to the following particulars; viz., Articulation, Accent,
Emphasis, Inflection, Modulation,. and Pauses.
SECTION I.
articulation.
Articulation is the art of uttering distinctly and
justly the letters and syllables constituting a word.
It deals, therefore, with the elements of words, just as elocu-
tion deals with the elements of sentences : the one securing tho
true enunciation of each letter, or combination of letters, tho
other giving to each word, or combination of words, such a
delivery as best expresses the meaning of the author. It is the
basis of all good reading, and should be carefully practiced by
the learner.
{13J
14
SANDERS' TJKION SERIES.
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS OP THE LETTERS.
TOWEL SOtlNDS.
TONICS.
Element
Powtr.
1—1 A
as in
-4pe.
2.— ^A
a
^rm.
^.— «A
si
* Jill.
4.-^*A
IC
^t.
■.^.-^A
i:
Care.
6.— «A
u
^sk.
7.— »E
«
Eyq.
8.— ^E
u
End.
9.— »I
11
Ice.
10.— ^I
11
It.
11.— ^0
«
Old.
12.-20
«
Do.
13.— »0
u
Ox.
14.— lU
11
Use.
15.— ^U
u
U^.
16.— 8U
u
Full
17.— 01
((
Oil
18.— OU
((
Out.
CONSONANT SOUNDS.
SUB-TONICS.
19.— B as in Bsit.
20.— D " i>un.
SDB-TONICS.
Element.
Power.
21.— G*
as in
Gun.
22.— J
i(
Jet.
23.— L
<(
Let.
24.— M
it
Man.
25.— N
u
Mt.
26.— R
It
Run.
27.— V
u
Fent.
28.— W
It
Fent.
29.— Y
it
res.
30.— ^Z
ft
^eal.
31.— ^Z
It
A^nre.
32.— Na
tt
Sin^.
33.— TH
It
Thy.
A-TONICS.
34.— F
as iu
Fit.
35.— H
a
Bait.
36.— K
it
Kid.
37.— P
it
Pit.
38.— S
tt
Sin.
39.— T
tt
Toip,
40.— CH
It
Chat,
41.— SH
tt
Shun.
42.— TH
It
Thin.
43.— WHf
tt
When.
* Soft G is equivalent to J ; Soft C to S, and hard C and Q to K. X
is equivalent to K and S, as in box, or to G and Z, as in exalt.
f WH is pronounced as if the H preceded W, otherwise it would be
pronounced W-hen. R should be slightly trilled before a vowel. For
further instructions, see Sanders and Merrill's Elementary and Elocu-
tionary Chart.
UNION FIFTH EEADEK.
15
SUBSTITUTES FOR THE VOWEL ELEMENTS.
at as in sail.
e as in JS'nglish.
au
'« gauge.
ee "
been.
For Long A.
ay
ea
*♦ lay.
•♦ great.
For Short L -
ie "
"
Sieve.
women.
ei
" detgn.
u "
busy.
ey
" they.
ui *'
bi/ild.
' au
** dawnt.
y U
symbol.
For Flat A.
ea
" heart.
' au "
hautboy.
^ua
•' guard.
eau ««
eo '«
beai^.
yeoman.
' au
aw
'« pause.
" \aw.
For Long 0. -
eu; "
oa ♦*
seu?.
boat.
For Broad A.
eo
oa
'♦ George.
" groat.
oe "
ou ♦*
hoe.
soul.
" horn.
OVJ '•
^ow.
ou
" sought.
o
For Long
^ oe "
shoe.
For Short A.
fat
ua
** plazd.
'* guaranty.
Slender 0. \ ou "
soup.
a "
was.
' ai
** hafr.
For Short 0.
ou "
hough.
For Intermedi-
ea
" bear.
^ow «'
knoii;ledga.
ate A.
e
•' where.
ei
«♦ their.
'eau "
eu ♦'
beauty
feud.
' ea
" weak.
ew "
dcu;.
For Long E.
ei
eo
ey
For Long U.
ieu "
iCU7 "
ou '•
adi'ei^.
\iew.
your.
ie
" brief.
ue "
ui "
cue.
i
" pzque.
suit.
'a
" any.
fe -
her.
ai
" sazd.
i "
Sir.
ay
'« says.
For Short U. -
oe '♦
does.
ea
'« dead.
"
love.
For Short E. -
ei
" heifer.
ou "
young.
eo
♦* leopard.
For Short j
Slender U. '
"
wolf.
ie
«♦ friend.
ou *'
would.
ue
♦* guess.
{at
♦* bury.
♦* aisle.
For the Diph- )
thong 01. J
.oy "
joy.
ei
" sleight.
For the Diph- 1
thong OU. J
ey
" eye.
► ow *♦
now.
For Long I.
ie
oi
«' die.
*' choi'r.
There is no
pure T
riphthongal
ui
" guide.
sound in the
language. Buoy ia
uy
" buy.
equivalent to
bwoy.
U being a
Vy
- try.
consonant,
16
SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
SUBSTITUTES FOR THE CONSONANT ELEMENTS.
8 in laxxgh.
c as
in
suffice.
sphere.
»Z.
s
wa«.
J. ff
X
Xerxes.
ffQm.
' s
treasure.
' c
can.
=Z.
z
azure.
TT ^^
chord.
si
fu«/on.
^■\9h
houffh.
si
glazeer.
u
g-uit.
NG.
n
conch.
S. c
cent.
[ce
ocean.
T l^
facet/.
ci
soczal.
phthisic.
ch
chaise.
SH.
\ si
pension.
HU
0/.
a
sure.
Stephen.
ss
issue.
Y. t
valmnt.
[ti
notion.
CH.
ti
fus^zan.
B, D, G, H, L, M, N, P, and R, have no substitutes.
The most common faults in Articulation are
I. The suppression of a sellable ; as
cab'n
for
cab-m.
mem'ry
for
mem-o-ry.
cap'n
((
cap-toin.
jub'lee
ju-bi-lee.
barr'l
a
bar-rel.
trav'ler
trav-el-er.
ev'ry
a
ev-e-ry.
fani'ly
fam-i-ly.
hist'ry
a
his-to-ry.
vent' late
ven-t«^-late.
reg'lar
u
reg-w-lar.
des'late
des-o-late.
sev'ral
ii
sev-cr-al.
prob'ble
prob-d-ble.
rhet'ric
((
rhet-o-ric.
par-tic'lar
par-tic-t^-lar.
II. The
omission of any s
ound properly belonging to a
word; as,
read-in
for
read-inr/.
pr'-tect
for
pro-tect.
swif-ly
u
swifMy.
b'-low
be-low.
com-mans
((
com-manc?s.
p'r-vade
per-vade.
wam-er
u
warm-er.
srink-in
s/irink-in^.
um-ble
u
Aum-ble,
th'if-ty
thrif-ty.
ap-py
((
Aap-py.
as-ter-is
as-ter-is&.
con-sis
((
con-sis^s.
gov-er-ment
gov-ern-ment.
fa-t'l
tt
fa-taL
Feb-u-a-ry
Fcb-ru-a-ry.
UNION FIFTH EEADER.
17
III. The Buhstitution of one sound for another ; as
wf-ford
for
af-ford.
wil-ler
wil-loi^.
sock-it
sock-et.
fear-lwss
fear-less.
cul-ter
cult-wre.
prod-ux
prod-uc/s.
judg-mwnt
judg-ment
chU-drm
chil-dren.
mod-?st
tip-prove
icin-e-gar
sep-e-rate
tem-per-/t
croe-er-dile
tMb-ac-cwr
com-prMm-ise
for mod-est.
ap-prove.
t?in-e-gar.
sep-a-rate.
tem-per-ate.
croc-o-dile.
to-bac-co.
com-pro-mise
IV. Produce the sounds denoted bj the following com-
binations of consonants : —
Let the pupil first produce the sounds of the letters, and then
the word or words in which they occur. Be careful to give a
clear and distinct enunciation to every letter.
1. Bd, as in rob*d; hdst, jtrob'dst; hi, Z>/and, a5fe ; tZof, hum-
hVd; hldst, troubl'dst; blst, tronbrst; biz, crumbles; br,
ferand; bz, ribs.
2. Ch, as in church ; cht, fetch'd.
S. Dj\ as in edge; djd, hedg'd ; dl, hr'idle; did, riddl'd; dht,
hdiudVst; dlz, bundles; dn^hard'n; dr,dro\e; dth, -width;
dths, hre-ddths; dz, odds.
4. Fl, as in^ame; Jld, riJVd ; flst, stifl'st; Jlz, rifles; fr,from;
fs, qua^i-, lau^As; fst, laugh' st, quaff' st; ft, raft ; fts, wafts;
ftsf, graft' St.
5. Gd, as in hegg'd ; gdst, hragg'dst; gl, glide; gld, struggrd ;
gldst, hsiggl'dst ; gist, sinxngl'st ; glz, mingles ; gr, grove ;
gst, hegfst ; gz, %s.
G. Kl, as in unc^e, ankle; kid, irickVd ; kldst, iruckV dst; klst,
chucA:/'s^; klz, yyrinkles ; kn, blacA;'?i; kud, reek'n'd;
kndst, reak'n'dst ; knst, blac7»:'ri's<; knz, reck' ns ; kr, crank j
ks, check's; kt, act.
7. Lh, as in hulb ; Ibd, hulb'd; lbs, hulbs ; Ich, Mch ; Ichf^
helch'd; Id, hold; Idst, fold'st ; Idz, holds; If self; Ifs,
gulfs; IJ, hulge; Ik, elk; Iks, silks; Ikt, milk'd; Ikts,
mulcts; Im^ elm; Imd, whelmed; Imz, ^Ims ; la, fall'n;
18 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
^, help; Ips, scsilps; Ipsf, helpst; h, fa/se ; 1st, cvdTst;
It, melt; Ith, health; Iths, stealths; Its, colts; Iv, delve 'j
Ivd, shelv'd; Ivz, elves; Iz, halls.
8. Md, as in dioom^d; mf, triumph; mp, hemp; mpt, tempt;
mptSy attempts; mst, entomb' st; mz, tombs.
9. Nch, as in hench; ncht, -pinch' d; nd, and; ndst, end'st;
ndz, ends; ng, sun//; ngd, hang'd; ngth, length; ngz,
songs; tiJ, range; njd,rang'd; nk,ink; nks, ranks; nkst,
thank' st; nst, winc'd; nt, sent; nts, rents; ntst, went'st;
nz, runs.
10. PI, as in j9?unie; pld, rippl'd; plst, ripp^s^; plz, apples;
pr, prince j ps, sips; pst, rapp'st; pt, ripp'd.
11. Rb, as in herb ; rch, search; rcht, church' d; rbd, orb'd;
rbdst,harb'dst ; rbst, disturb' st ; rbz, orbs ; rd,hard ; rdst
heard' St; rdz, -words ; rf, turf; rft, scarf d) rg, hurg ;
rgz, hurgs; rj, dirge; rjd, urg'd; rk, ark; rks, arks;
rkst, \fork'st; rkt, dirk'd ; rktst, emhark'dst; rl, girl;
rid, world; rldst, hurld'st ; rlst, whirl' st; rlz, hurls; rm,
arm; rmd, arm'd; rmdst, harm'dst; rmst, arm'st; rmz,
charms; rn, turn; rnd, turn'd; rndst, earn'dst; rnst,
Xearn'st; rnz, urjis ; rp, carp; rps, harps; rpt,warp'd;
rs, verse; rsh, harsh; rst, firs/; rsis, bu?*s/s; rt, dart; rth,
earth; rths, hirths; rts, marts; rtst, dart'st; rv, curve;
rvd, nerv'd; rvdst, curv'dst; rvst, swerv'st; rvz, nerves;
rz, errs.
12. /S'/i, as in sAip ; sht,hush'd; sic, scan, skip, sks, tusks; sksf,
frisk' st; skt, risk'd; si, slow; sld, nestVd; slz, wrestles;
sm, swiile ; sn, snag; sp, sport; sps, lisps; spt, clasp'd; st,
stag; str, strike; sts, rests; sw, swing.
13. Th, as in thine, thin; thd, hreath'd; thr, three; thst,
hreath'st; thw, tJiwac\.; thz, writhes ; tl, title; tld, aettl'd;
tldst, settl'dst ; tlst, settl'st; tlz, nettles; tr, /runkj te, fi/s;
tw, twirl.
14. Vd, as in curv'd; vdst, liv' dst; vl, driv'l ; vld, grov'l'd;
vldst, grov'V dst; vlst, driv' I' st; vn^ driv'n; vst, liv'st;
vz, lives.
15. Wh, as in t^jAen, w^ere.
16. Zd, as in mus'd; zl, dazzle ; zld, muzzl'd; zldst, dazzl'dst;
zlst, dazzVst; zlz, muzzles; zm, spasm; zmz, chasms; zn^
lis'n; znd, reas'n'd; znz, pris'7}z; zndst, impris'n'dst.
tJNIOK FIFTH READER.
19
Y. Avoid blending the termination of one word with
the beginning of another, or suppressing the final letter
or letters of one word, when the next word commences
with a similar sound.
His small eyes
She keeps pies
His hour is up
Dry the widow's tears
Your eyes and ears
He had two small eggs
Bring some ice cream
Let all men praise Him
He was killed in war
Water, air, and earth
Come and see me once more
EXAMPLES.
instead of His small lies.
She keeps spies.
His sour is sup.
Dry the widow steers.
Your rise sand dears.
He had two small legs.
Bring some mice scream.
Let tall men pray sim.
He was skilled in war.
AVater rare rand dearth.
Come mand see me one smore.
Note. — By an indistinct Articulation the sense of a passage
is often liable to be perverted.
EXAMPLES.
1. Will he attempt to conceal hi* acts ?
Will he attempt to conceal his sacks ?
2. The man harf oars to row her over.
The man hao? doors to row her rover.
8. Can there be aw aim more lofty ?
Can there be a name more lofty ?
4. The judges ought to arrest the culprits.
The judges sought to arrest the culprits.
6. His «re burned when she told him her age.
His sire burned when she told him her rage,
6. He was awed at the works of labor and art.
He was sawed at the works of labor an c/art.
7. He was drained in the religion of his fathers.
He was sprained in the religion of Lis fathers.
20 SANDEES' UNION SEKIES.
MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES.
1. J5ravely o'er the boisterows billows,
His ffSilla,nt bark wa,s borne.
2. Can craven cow&rds expect to conquer the conniry ?
8. CRck, click, goes the clock ; clack, clack, ffoes the mill.
4. Did you desire to hear his dark and doleful dreams ?
6. " Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form.
Still as the breeze ; but dreadful as the storm.'*
6. 27ie flaming fire flashed fearfully in his face.
7. The glassy glaciers gleamed in glowing light.
8. jETow Aigh his honors heaved his Aaugh^y head!
9.. jBTe drew long, legible lines along the Zpve/y landscape.
10. Masses of immense magnitude move majestically through the vast
empire of the solar system.
11. Round the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran.
12. The stripling stranger strayed straight toward the struggling
etream.
13. She uttered a sharp, shrill shriek, and then shrunk from the shriveled
form that slumbered in the shroud.
14. For fear of o/ending the frightful fugitive, the vile vagsJ)ond
ventured to vilify the venerable veteran.
15. Amidst the mists, tcith angry boasts.
He thrusts his fists against the posts^
And still insists he sees the ghosts.
16. Peter Prangle, the prickly prangly pear picker, picked three
pecks of prickly prangly pears, from the prangly pear trees, on the
pleasant prairies.
17. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve
full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick
of his thumb ; now, if Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter,
in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles
through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full
of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick
of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter.
18. We travel sea and soil; we pry, we prowl;
We progress, and we prog from pole to pole.
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 21
SECTION 11.
ACCENT AND EMPHASIS.
Accent and Emphasis both indicate some special stress
of voice.
Accent is that stress of voice by which one syllable of a word
i. made more prominent than others ; Emphasis is that stress
of voice by which one or more words of a sentence are distin-
guished above the rest.
accent.
The accented syllable is sometimes designated thus:
( / ) ; as, com-mand'-ment.
Note I. — Words of more than two syllables generally have
two or more of them accented.
The more forcible stress of voice is called the Primary
Accent; and the less forcible, the Secondary Accent.
EXAMPLES OF PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ACCENT.
In the following examples the Primary Accent is designated
by double accentual marks, thus :
Ed^^-u-cate\ ed' -u-ca^ ^ -tion, muV^-ti-ply^, muV-ti-pli-ca^^-tion, sat^^-is~
fy^^ sat^-is-fac^^-tion, com^-pre-hend'^, com' -pre-hen" -sion, rec'-om-mend'\^
rec' -om-mend-a' ' -tioriy mo^'-ment-a'-ry, com-mu' ' -ni-cate' , com'-pli-ment'^-
al, in-dem'-ni-fi-ca''-tion, ex'-tem-po-ra''-ne-ous, coun'-ter-rev'-o-WHiou-
a-ry.
Note II. — The change of accent on the same word often
changes its meaning.
EXAMPLES.
col^-league, a partner, col-league'', to unite with.
con'^-duct, behavior. con-duct'', to lead.
des'-cant, a song or tune. des-canf, to comment.
ob'-ject, ultimate purpose. ob-ject', to oppose.
in''-ter-dict, a prohibition. in-ter-dict'', to forbid.
o''-ver-throw, ruin; defeat. o-ver-tbrow'', to throw down.
22 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Note III. — Emphatic words are often printed in Italics,
When, however, different degrees of emphasis are to be denoted,
the higher degrees are designated by the use of Capitals,
LARGER or smaller, according to the degree of intensity.
EXAMPLES.
1. Our motto shall be, our country, our whole country, and
NOTHING BUT OUR COUNTRY.
2. Thou Child of Joy ! Shout round me : let me hear thy shouts,
thou happy Shepherd Boy !
S. Freedom calls you ! quick, be ready,
Think of what your sires have done ;
Onward, onward ! strong and steady,
Drive the tyrant to his den ;
On, and let the watchword be,
Country, home, and LIBERTY.
Note IV. — Emphasis, as before intimated, varies in degrees
of intensity,
EXAMPLES OF INTENSIVE EMPHASIS.
1. He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted: ''VICTORY!"
Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on !"
2. A month ! 0, for a single week ! I ask not for years', though an
AGE were too little for the much I have to do.
8. Now for the fight ! now for the cannon peal !
ONWARD! through blood, and toil, and cloud, txndjire!
Glorious — the shout, the shock, the crash of steel,
The volley's roll, the rocket's blazing spire!
4. Hear, Heavens ! and give ear, Earth !
Note Y. — Emphasis sometimes changes the seat of accent
from its ordinary position.
EXAMPLES.
There is a difference between jt?05''sibility and /)ro5''ability.
And behold, the angels of God as''cending and c?fi''scending on it.
For this corruptible must put on en'oorruption, and this mortal must
put on {m'mortality.
Does Ilia conduct deserve ap''probation, or re^-'robatioa ?
UNION FIFTH READER. 23
Note YI. — There are two kinds of Emphasis: — Absolute
and Antithetic. Absolute Emphasis is used to designate tho
important words of a sentence, without any direct reference to
other words.
EXAMPLES OF ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS.
1. Oh, speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak and sai/ : ''peace, be still!"
2. The Union, it MUST and SHALL BE PRESERVED !
8. . Hush ! breathe it not aloud,
The wild winds must not hear it I Yet, again,
I tell thee — we are free ! knowles.
4. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the
^arth, then and not TILL then, let my epitaph be written, emmett.
6. If you are men, follow me ! Strike down yon guard, and gain the
mountain passes.
6. Oh ! shame on us, countrymen, shame on us all,
If we cringe to so dastard a race.
7. This doctrine never was received ; it never can, by any POSSIBIL-
ITY, BE received ; and, if admitted at all, it must be by THE TOTAL
SUBVERSION OF LIBERTY!
8. Are you Christians, and, by upholding duelists, will you deluge the
land with blood, and fill it with widows and orphans ? beecher.
9. Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable.
WEBSTER.
10. Treason! cried the speaker; treason, treason, TREASON, re-
echoed from every part of the house.
11. The war is inevitable, — and let it come! I repeat it, Sir, — LET
[T COME ! PATRICK henry.
12. Be we men.
And suffer such dishonor ? Men, and wash not
The slain away in blood ? miss mitford.
13. SACRED forms ! how proud you look !
How high you lift your heads into the sky !
How huge you are ! how mighty and how free! knowles.
14. I shall know but one country. The endd / aim at, shall be " My
Country's, my God's, and Truth's." Webster.
24 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Note YII. — Antithetic Emphasis is that which is founded
on the contrast of one word or clause with another.
EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETIC EMPHASIS.
1. The faults of others should always remind us of our own.
2. He desired to protect his friend, not to injure him
8. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence. shakspeakh.
4. A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. bible.
5. We can do nothing against the truth ; but for the truth. bible.
G. He that is slow to anger, is better than the mighty ; and he that
Tuleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. bible.
Note YIIT. — The following examples contain two or more
sets of Antitheses.
1. Just men are oxAy free, the rest are slaves.
2. Beauty is like the flower of spring; virtue is like the stars of heaven.
3. Truth crushed to earth shall rise again.
The eternal years of God are hers ;
But error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies amid her worshipers. butant.
4. A false balance is abomination to the Lord; but a fust weight is his
delight. BIBLE.
5. A friend can not be known in prosperity ; and an enemy can not be
hidden in adversity.
6. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be
my dying sentiment; independence now, and independence forever.
WEBSTER.
7. We live in deeds, not years, — in thoughts, not breaths, — in feelings, not
in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He moat
lives, who THINKS THE MOST, FEELS THE NOBLEST, ACTS THE BEST.
8 You have done the mischief, and / bear the blame.
9. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the
fool, when he gains that of others.
10. We must hold them as wc hold the rest of mankind — enemies in
opar, — in peace, friend/f. .TKFFKasoN,
UNION FIFTH READER. 25
Note IX. — The sense of a passage is varied hj changing the
place of the emphasis
EXAMPLES.
1. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but Charles has.
2. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he haa heard from
him.
8. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he saw yours.
4. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No : but he has seen his
sister.
6. Has James seen his brother to-day? No; but he saw him yes-
ierday.
Kemark. — To determine the emphatic words of a sentence,
as well as the degree and kind of emphasis to be employed, the
reader mtjst be governed wholly by the sentiment to be expressed.
The idea is sometimes entertained that emphasis consists merely
in loudness of tone. But it should be borne in mind, that the
most intense emphasis may often be effectively expressed, evea
by a whisper.
SECTION III.
INFLECTIONS.
Inflections are turns or slides of the voice, made
in reading or speaking; as, Will you go to New
or to -^
All the various sounds of the human voice may be compre-
hended under the general appellation of tones. The principal
modifications of these tones are. the Monotone, the Rising
Inflection, the Falling Inflection, and the Circumflex.
26 SANDEES' UNION SEBIES.
The Horizontal Line ( — ) denotes the Monotone.
The Rising Slide ( x) denotes the Rising Inflection.
The Falling Slide ( \ ) denotes the Falling Inflection.
The Curve (^) denotes the Circumflex.
The Monotone is that sameness of sound, which arises
from repeating the several words or syllables of a passage
in one and the same general tone.
Remark. — The Monotone is employed with admirable effect
in the delivery of a passage that is solemn oj sublime.
EXAMPLES.
1. thou that rollest above, round as the shield of m^ fathers:
whence are thy beams, sun, thy everlasting light ? ossian.
2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now
Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er
The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds
The bells' deep tones are swelling; 'tis the knell
Of the departed year. prentice.
3. God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran.
Selah. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of His
praise.
4. Before Him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth at
His feet. He stood and measured the earth: He beheld, and drove
asunder the nations ; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the
perpetual hills did bow : His ways are everlasting. bible.
5. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the iirmaraent showeth
His handy work. Day unto day iittereth speech, and night unto night
showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, where tjieir
-vulce is not heard. is.
6. How brief is life ! how passing brief!
How brief its joys and cares !
It seems to be in league with time,
And leaves us unawares.
'^. The thUnder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world,
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. Thomson.
UNION FIFTH READEB. 27
Remark. — The inappropriate use of the monotone, — a fault
into which young people naturally fall, — is a very grave and
obstinate error. It is always tedious, and often even ridiculous.
It should be studiously avoided.
The Rising Inflection is an upward turn, or slide
of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, Are you
«»•■
prepared to recite your ^
The Falling Inflection is a downward turn, or slide
of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, What are
you
In the falling inflection, the voice should not sink below the
general pitch; but in the rising inflection, it is raised above it.
The two inflections may be illustrated by the following
diagrams :
1. Did he act "SV'^^ or
2. Did they go
8. If the flight of Dryden is '^y^ Pope continues longer on the
X If the blaze of Dryden's fire is ^^^^ the heat of Pope's ie
W
more regular and \<
28 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
4. Is honor's lofty soul forever fled'' ?
Is virtue lost^ ? Is martial ardor dead'' ?
Is there no heart where worth and valor dwelK ?
No patriot Wallace^ ? No undaunted Tell'' ?
Yes\ Freedom, yes^ ! thy sons, a noble band,
Around thy banner, firm, exulting stand\
Remark. — The same degree of inflection is not, at all times,
used, or indicated by the notation. The due degree to be
employed, depends on the nature of what is to be expressed.
For example j if a person, under great excitement, asks another.
Are you in "^ tbe degree of inflection would be much
greater, than if he playfully asks : Are you in '^ The
former inflection may be called intensive^ the latter, common.
RULES FOR THE USE OF INFLECTIONS.
RULE I.
Direct questions, or those which may be answered by
yes or no, usually take the rising inflection; but their
answers, generally, the falling,
EXAMPLES.
1. Will you meet me at the depot'' ? Yes^ ; or, I will\
2. Did you intend to visit Boston-'? No^; or, I did not\
8. Can you explain this difficult sentence'' ? Yes'' ; I can.
4. Are they willing to remain at home'' ? They are\
5. Is this a time for imbecility and inaction^? By no means'.
6. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets^ ? I know that thou
believest\
7. Were the tribes of this country, when first discovered, making any
progress in arts and civilization'' ? By no meaus\
UNION FIFTH KEADER, 29
8 To purchase heaven has gold the power^?
Can gold remove the mortal hour'' ?
In life, can love be bought with gold^ ?
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold-' ?
No^ ; all that's worth a wish, a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbrif>ed, unbought.
9. What would content you^ ? Talents^ ? No\ Enterprise^ ? No\
Courage^? No\ Reputation^? No\ Virtue^? No\ The man
whom you would select, should possess not one, but all of these^.
Note I. — When the direct question becomes an appeal, and
the reply to it is anticipated, it takes the intense falling
inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. li" he not a bold and eloquent speaker^ ?
2. Can> such inconsistent measures be adopted^ ?
8. Di^ you ever hear of such cruel barbarities^ ?
4. Is this reason^ ? Is it law^ ? 7s it humanity^ ?
6. Wai" not the gentleman's argument conclusive^ ?
RULE II.
Indirect questions, or those which can not be answered
by ye% or wo, usually take t\iQ falling inflection, and their
answers the same.
EXAMPLES.
1. How far did you travel yesterday^ ? Forty miles\
2. Which of you brought this beautiful bouquet^ ? Julia^.
8. Where do you intend to spend the summer^ ? At Saratoga*.
4. When -Will Charles graduate at college^ ? Next year\
5. What is one of the most delightful emotions of the hearO?
Gratitude\
Note I. — When the indirect question is one asking a repe-
tition of what was not, at first, understood, it takes the rising
inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. When do you expect to return ? Next week.
When did you say^ ? Next week.
2. Where did you say William had gone'' ? To New York.
30 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. ;
Note II. — Answers to questions, whetlier direct or indirect, ^
when expressive of indifference, take the rising inflection, or '■
the circumflex.
EXAMPLES.
1. Did you admire his discourse ? Not much''.
2. Which way shall we walk ? I am not particular^
S. Can Henry go with us ? If he chooses'.
4. What color do you prefer ? I have no particular choice^
Note III. — In some instances, direct questions become in-
direct by a change of the inflection from the rising to the
falling.
EXAMPLES.
1. Will you come to-morrow' or next day' ? Yes.
2. Will you come to-morrow/ or next day^ ? I will come to-morrow.
Remark. — The first question asks if the person addressed
will come within the two days, and may be answered by yes or
no ; but the second asks on which of the two days he will come,
and it can not be thus answered.
KULE III.
When questions are connected by the conjunction or,
the first requires the rising^ and the second, the falling
inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Does he study for amusement'', or improvement^ ?
2. Was he esteemed for his wealth'', or for his wisdom^ ?
3. Sink'' or swim\ live' or die\ survive' or perish\ I give my hand
and heart to this vote. webster.
4. Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath-days'', or to do evil^ ? to
gave life^ or to kiir ? bible.
5. Was it an act of moral courage'', or cowardice\ for Cato to fall on
his sword^ ?
UNION FIFTH READER. 31
RULE IV.
Antitlietic terms or clauses usually take opposite in-
flections ; generally, the former has the rising, and the
latter the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. If you seek to make one rich, study not to increase his stor<;£ ,
but to diminish his desires\
2. They have mouths', — but they speak not^:
JSyes have they', — but they see noO :
They have ears'', — but they hear not^ r
looses have they', — but they smell not^ :
They have hands', — but they handle not^r
Feet have they', — but they walk not\ biblh.
Note I. — When one of the antithetic clauses is a negative,
and the other an affirmative^ generally the negative has the
rising^ and the afl&rmative the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. T said an elder soldier\ not a better'.
2. His acts deserve punishment\ rather than commiseration^
8. This is no time for a tribunal of justice', but for showing mercy^;
not for accusation', but for philanthropy^ ; not for trial', but for pardon^;
not for sentence and execution', but for compassion and kindness\
RULE V.
The Pause of Suspension, denoting that the sense is
incomplete, usually has the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Although the fig-tree shall not blossom', neither shall fruit be in
the vine'; the labor of the olive shall fail', and the fields shall yield no
meat' ; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold', and there shall be no
herd in the stalls'; yet will I rejoice in the Lord\ I will joy in the
God of my salvation\ bible.
32 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Note I. — The ordinary direct address, not accompanied with
strong emphasis, takes \the rising inflection on the principle of
the pause of suspension.
EXAMPLES.
1. Men'', brethren', and fathers^, hear ye my defense which I make
DOW unto you. biblb.
2. Ye living flowers-', that skirt the eternal frost-' !
Ye wild goats'', sporting round the eagle's nest''!
Ye eagles'', playmates of the mountain storm'' !
Y'^e lightnings'', the dread arrows of the clouds'' !
Ye signs'' and wonders'' of the elements'' !
Utter forth God^, and fill the hills with praise^ ! colebidoe.
Note II. — In some instances of a pause of suspension, the
sense requires an intense falling inflection.
EXAMPLE.
1. The prodigal, if he does not become a pauper^y will, at least, have
but little to bestow on others.
Hem ARK. — If the rising inflection is given on pauper ^ the
sense would be perverted, and the passage made to mean, that,
in order to be able to bestow on others, it is necessary that he
should become a pauper.
RULE VI.
Expressions of tenderness, as of srrief, or kindness,
commonly incline the voice to the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Mother'', — I leave thy dwelling' ;
Oh I shall it be forever'' ?
With grief my heart is swelling'',
From thee'', — from thee-', — to sever-'.
2. O my son Absalom' ! my son'', my son Absalom'' ! Would God I
had died for thee-', Absalom'', my son'', my son' ! \ii&\.v^.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 33
RULE VII.
The Penultimate Pause, or the last hut one, of a
passage, is usually preceded hy the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Diligence\ Indus try\ and proper improvement of time'', are mate-
rial duties of the young.^
2. These through faith subdued kingdoms\ wrought righteousness\
obtained promises\ stopped the mouths of lions\ quenched the violence
of fire\ escaped the edge of the sword\ out of weakness were made
Btrong\ waxed valiant in fight^, turned to flight the armies of the
aliens\
Remark. — The rising inflection is employed at the penulti-
mate pause in order to promote variety, since the voice generally
falls at the end of a sentence.
RULE VIII.
Expressions of strong emotion, as of anger or surprise,
and also the language of authority and reproach, are
expressed with the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. On YOu\ and on your children^, be the peril of the innocent
blood which shall be shed this day\
2. What a piece of workmanship is manM How noble in reasonM
How infinite in faculties^ !
8. FOOLS^ ! and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets havo
written concerning me^ ! • bible.
4. Hence\ HaME\ you idle creatures^, get you home\
You BLOCKS^ YOU ST0NES\ YOU WORSE THAN USELESS THINGS^ !
5. Avaunt^ ! and quit my sight^ ! let the earth hide thee^ ! Thy bones
are marrowless^ ; thou hast no speculation in thine eyes which thou dost
glare^ with. shakspeabe.
6. Slave, do thy officeM Strike\ as I struck the foe^ !
Strike\ as I would have struck the tyrants^ !
Strike deep as my curso^ ! Strike\ and but once^ ! id.
3
84 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
RULE IX.
An emphatic succession of particulars, and emphatic
repetition, require the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Bewari" what earth calls happiness ; be-warb^
All joys but joys that never can expire\
2. A great mind\ a great heart', a great orator\ a great career.
have been consigned to history\ butler.
Remark. — The stress of voice on each successive particu-
lar, or repetition, should gradually be increased as the subject
advances.
The Circumflex is a union of the two inflections on
the same word, beginning either with the falling and
ending with the rising, or with the rising and ending
with the falling ; as, If he goes to ^ ^a>^"^ I shall go to
The circumflex is mainly employed in the language of
irony, and in expressing ideas implying some condition,
either expressed or understood.
EXAMPLES.
1. You, a beardless youth, pretend to teach a British generaL
2. What! shear a -wolf ? a prowling wolf ?
8. My father's trade ? ah, really, that's too bad ?
My father's trade ? Why, blockhead, are you mad ?
My father, sir, did never stoop so low, —
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know.
4. What! confer a crown on the author of the public calamities?
5. But you are very wise men, and deeply learned in the truth ; we
are weak, contemptible, mean persons.
6. They pretend they come to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts,
and free us from error.
7. But youth, it seems, is not my only crime ; I have been accused
of acting a theatrical part.
8. And this man has become a god, and Cassius a wretched creature.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 35
SECTION IV.
MODULATION.
Modulation implies those variations of the voice,
heard in reading or speaking, which are prompted by
the feelings and emotions that the subject inspires.
EXAMPLES.
EXPRESSIVE OP COURAGE AND CHIVALROUS EXCITEMENT.
Full f Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more^
Tone. \ Or close the wall up with our English dead !
Middle r In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man.
Tone. I. As modest stillness and humility ;
r But when the blast of war blows in our ears.
Short . . , . „ , .
J Then imitate the action of the tiger ;
^ I StiflFen the sinews, summ'on up the blood,
[Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.
High
AND
Loud.
Quick,
AND
VERY
Loud.
' On, ON, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof I
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ;
Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge,
Cry — Heaven for Harry! England! and St. George!
shakspearb.
Remark. — To read the foregoing example in one dull, mo-
notonous tone of voice, without regard to the sentiment ex-
pressed, would render the passage extremely insipid and life-
less. But by a proper modulation of the voice, it infuses into
the mind of the reader or hearer the most animating and
exciting emotions.
The voice is modulated in three different ways. First, it is
varied in Pitch; that is, from high to low tones, and the
reverse. Secondly, it is varied in Quantity, or in loudness or
volume of sound. Thirdly^ it is varied in Quality, or in the
hind of sound expressed.
SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
PITCH OF VOICE.
Pitch of Voice has reference to its degree of ele-
vation.
Every person, in reading or speaking, assumes a certain
pitch, which may be either high or low^ according to circum-
stances, and which has a governing influence on the variations
of the voice, above and below it. This degree of elevation is
usually called the Key Note.
As an exercise in varying the voice in pitch, the practice of
uttering a sentence on the several degrees of elevation, as
represented in the following scale, will be found beneficial.
First, utter the musical syllables, then the vowel sound, and
lastly, the proposed sentence, — ascending and descending,
8. — do — — e-in-me. — Virtue alone survives.
7. si t in' die. Virtue alone survives.
-6. — la — Q — o-in-do. — Virtue alone survives. —
5. sol o in no. Virtue alone survives
4. — fa — — a-in-at. — Virtue alone survives. —
8. mi ^ a in ate. Virtue alone survives.
-2, — re — — a-in-far. — Virtue alone survives
1. do a in all. Virtue alone survives.
Although the voice is capable of as many variations in
speaking, as are marked on the musical scale, yet for all the
purposes of ordinary elocution, it will be sufficiently exact if we
make but three degrees of variation, viz., the Low, the Middle^
and the High.
1. The Low Pitch is that which falls below the usual
speaking key, and is employed in expressing emotions of
sublimity J awe, and reverence.
EXAMPLE.
Silence, how dead! darkness, how profound I *
Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds ;
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, —
An awful pause I prophetic of her end. youno.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 37
2. The Middle Pitch is that usually employed in common
conversation, and in expressing unim}.passioned thought and
TTVoderate emotion.
EXAMPLES.
1. It was early in a summer morning, -when the air was cool, the
earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and gay, that I lately
walked in a beautiful flower garden, and, at once, regaled the senses
; nd indulged the fancy. hebvey.
2. *' I love to live,'' said a prattling boy,
As he gayly played with his new-bought toy,
And a merry laugh went echoing forth,
From a bosom filled with joyous mirth.
8. The High Pitch is that which rises above the usual
speaking key, and is used in expressing joyous and elevated
feelings
EXAMPLE.
Higher, higher, ever higher, —
Let the watchword be '* Aspire!'*
Noble Christian youth ;
Whatsoe'er be God's behest,
Try to do that duty best,
In the strength of Truth. m. f. tupper.
QUANTITY.
Quantity is two-fold ; — consisting in fullness or
VOLUME of sound, as soft or loud ; and in time, as slow
or quick. The former has reference to stress; the
latter, to MOVEMENT.
The degrees of variation in quantity are numerous, varying
from a slight, soft whisper to a vehement shout. But for all
practical purposes, they may be considered as three, the same
as in pitch ; — the soft, the middle, and the loud.
For exercise in quantity, let the pupil read any sentence, as,
*' Beauty is a fading flower,"
88 ' SANDERS* UNION SERIES.
first in a slight, soft tone, and then repeat it, gradually in-
creasing in quantity to .the full extent of the voice. Also, let
liim read it first very slowly, and then repeat it gradually
increasing the movement. In doing this, he should be careful
not to vary the pitch.
In like manner, let him repeat any vowel sound, or all of
them, and also inversely. Thus :
00000000 OOO
OOOO 0000000
Remark. — Quantity is often mistaken for Pitch. But it
should be borne in mind that quantity has reference to loudness
or volume of sound, and pitch to the elevation or depression of a
tone. The difference may be distinguished by the slight and
heavy strokes on a bell : — both of which produce sounds alike
in pitch ; but they differ in quantity or loudness^ in proportion
as the strokes are light or heavy.
RULES FOR QUANTITY.
1. Soft, or Subdued Tones, are those which range from a
whisper to a complete vocality, and are used to express fear^
caution^ secrecy y solemnity^ and all tender emotions.
EXAMPLES.
1. We watchefl her breathing through the night,
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro. • hood.
2. Softly, peacefully,
Lay her to rest ;
Place the turf lightly.
On her young breast. d. k. goodman.
8. The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it answered, — "No."
UNION FIFTH READER. 39
2. A Middle Tone, or medium loudness of voice, is em-
ployed in reading narrative^ descriptive^ or didaciic sentences,
EXAMPLE.
I love my country's pine-clad hills,
Her thousand bright and gushing rills,
Her sunshine and her storms ;
Her rough and rugged rocks that rear
Their hoary heads high in the air,
In "wild fantastic forms.
3. A Loud Tone, or fullness and stress of voice is used in
expressing violent passions and vehement emotions,
EXAMPLES.
1. Stand ! the ground's your oww, my braves,-—
Will ye give it up to slaves?
Will ye look for greener graves ?
Hope ye mercy still ?
What's the mercy despots feel ?
Hear it in that battle-peal, —
Read it on yon bristling steel, —
Ask it — ye who will ! pieepont,
2. '« Hold !" Tyranny cries ; but their resolute breath
Sends back the reply : " Independence or death !"
QUALITY.
Quality has reference to the kind of sound uttered.
Two sounds may be alike in quantity and pitch, yet diflfer in
quality. The sounds produced on the clarinet and flute, may
agree in pitch and quantity, yet be unlike in quality. The
same is true in regard to the tones of the voice of two indi-
viduals. This difference is occasioned mainly by the different
positions of the vocal organs.
The qualities of voice mostly used in reading or speaking^
and which should receive the highest degree of culture, are the
Pure Tone^ the Orotund^ the Aspirated, and the Guttural.
40 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
RULES FOR QUALITY.
1. The Pure Tone is a clear, smooth, sonorous flow of
sound, usually accompanied with the middle pitch of voice,
anH is adapted to express emotions oijoy^ cheerfulnesSj love^ and
tranquillity.
EXAMPLE.
Hail ! beauteous stranger of the wood,
, Attendant on the spring,
Now heaven repairs thy vernal seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.
2. The Orotund is a full, deep, round, and pure tone of
voice, peculiarly adapted in expressing sublime and pathetic
emotions.
EXAMPLE.
It thunders ! Sons of dust, in reverence bow I
Ancient of Days ! Thou speakest from above :
Almighty ! trembling, like a timid child,
I hear thy awful voice. Alarmed — afraid —
I see the flashes of thy lightning wild,
And in the very grave would hide my head.
3. The Aspirated Tone of voice is not a pure, vocal sound,
hut rather a forcible breathing utterance, and is used to express
amazement^ fear^ terror^ anger, revenge, remorse, and fervent
emotions.
EXAMPLE.
Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou afl'right me I
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight ;
Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
4. The Guttural Quality is a deep, aspirated tone of
voice, used to express aversion, hatred^ loathing, and contempt.
EXAMPLE.
Tell me I hate the bowl ?
Hate is a feeble word :
I loathe, ABHOR, my very soul
With strong disgust is stirred,
Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell.
Of the dark beverage of hell.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 41
NOTATION IN MODULATION.
(<')high. (p.) soft.
('*°) high and loud. (^.) very soft.
( o ) low. ( / ) loud,
(oo) low ^^^ loud. (/. ) very loud.
(=) quick. (p?.) plaintive.
( " ) short and quick. { .) Soft is the strain -when zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ;
(/.) But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.
(si.) When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw.
The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ;
(^ Not 80, when swift Camilla scours the plain.
Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main, pop:
( ^) Go ring the bella and fire the guns.
And fling the starry banner out ;
(ff.) • fihout "Freedom" till your lisping ones
Give back the cradle shout. whittibb.
(j>L) ** And now, farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up.
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! —
And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could drink the cup.
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee.
May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home.
My lost boy, Absalom !" wiLua
isl.y The sun hath set in folded clouds, —
Its twilight rays are gone,
(^ And, gathered in the shades of night.
The storm is rolling on.
(pi.) Alas! how ill that bursting storm
/"-^\ The fainting spirit braves,
(^.) When they, — the lovely and the lost, —
(jd.) Are gone to early graves I
42 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. ^
(°) On ! onward still ! o'er the land he sweeps,
(<^^ With wreck, and ruin, and rush, and roar,
Nor stops to look back
On his dreary track,
(^^) But speeds to the spoils before. miss j. h. lbwis.
From every battle-field of the revolution — from Lexington afid Bunker
Hill — from Saratoga and Yorktown — from the fields of Eutaw — from the
cane-brakes that sheltered the men of Marion — the repeated, long-
prolonged echoes came up — (/.) *' The Union : it must be preserved.'*
(^EI.L.
IN the spring of 1881, Chief Sky, a Chippewa Indian,
living in the northern wilds of Wisconsin, found an
eagle's nest. To make sure of his prize he cut the tree
down, and caught the eaglets as they were sliding from the
■^•' Col. J. W. Jefferson, who led the valiant Eighth Wisconsin Regiment
in the Red River expedition, has given a similar account of this wonder/ul
Bird ; thus corroborating the truthfulness of this narrative.
70 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
nest to run and hide in the grass. One died. He carried
the other home, and built a nest in a tree close by his wig-
wam. The eaglet was as large as a hen, and covered with
soft down. The red children were delighted with their
new pet ; and, as soon as he became acquainted, he would sit
down in the grass, and see them play with the dogs.
2. But Chief Sky was poor, and he was obliged to
soil the noble bird to a white man for a bushel of corn.
The white man brought him to Eau Claire,* a small vil-
lage, where the enlisted soldiers were busy in preparing to
go to the war. " Here 's a recruit," said the man. "An
EAGLE ! AN EAGLE ! " shoutcd the soldicrs : " Let him
ENLIST ! " and sure enough, he was sw^orn into the service,
with ribbons around his neck, — red, white, and blue.
3. On a perch surmounted by stars and stripes, the
company took him to Madison, the Capital of the State.
As they marched into Camp Randall, with colors flying,
drums beating, and the people cheering, the eagle seized
the flag in his beak, and spread his wings, his bright eye
kindling with the spirit of the scene. Shouts rent the
air: — "The Bird of Columbia! the Eagle of Free-
dom FOREVER ! "
4. The State made him a new perch, and the boys
named him " Old Abe ;" and the Eighth^ Wisconsin Regi-
ment was henceforth called, " The Eagle Regiment." On
the march he was carried at the head of the company, and
everywhere was greeted with delight. At St. Louis, a
gentleman offered five hundred dollars for him, and anoth-
er his farm. No, no ; the boys had no notion of parting
with their bird. He w^as above all price, — an emblem of
battle and of victory. Besides, he interested their minds,
and made them think less of hardships and of home.
* Pronounced Claire.
UNION FIFTH READER. 71
5. It was really amusing to witness the strange freaks
and droll adventures of this bird during his three years'
service, — his flights in the air, his fights with the guinea-
hens, and his race with the boys. When the regiment was
in summer quarters at Clear Creek, the eagle was allowed
to run at large, and every morning went to the river, half
a mile off, where he splashed and played in the water to
his heart's content, faithfully returning to camp when he
was satisfied.
6. Old Abe's favorite place of resort was the sutler's
tent, where a live chicken found " no quarter " in his pres-
ence. But rations became scarce, and, for two days, Abe
had nothing to eat. Hard-tack he objected to ; fasting
was disagreeable ; and Thomas, his bearer, could not get
beyond the pickets to a farm-yard. At last, pushing his
way to the colonel's tent, he pleaded for poor Abe. The
colonel gave him a pass, and Thomas procured for him an
excellent dinner.
7. One day a farmer asked Thomas to come and show
the' eagle to his children. Satisfying the curiosity of the
family, Thomas set him down in the barn-yard. Oh,
what a screeching and scatterino; amon^r the fowls ! for
Abe pounced upon one, and gobbled up another, to the
great amazement of the farmer, who declared that such
wanton behavior was not in the bargain. Abe, however,
thought there was no harm in " confiscating " in time of
war.
8. Abe was in twenty battles, besides thirty skirmishes.
He was at the siege of Vicksburg, the storming of Corinth,
and marched with Sherman up the Red River. The whiz
of bullets and the scream of shells were his delicrht. As
the battle grew hotter and hotter, he would flap his wings,
and mingle his wildest notes with the thundering din
72 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
around him. He was very fond of music, especially Yan-
kee Doodle and John Brown. Upon parade he always
gave heed to the word, " Attention ! " With his eye on
the commander, he would listen and obey orders, noting
time accurately. After parade he would put off his sol-
dierly air, flap his wings, and make himself at home.
9. The enemy called him " Yankee Buzzard," " Old
Owl," and other hard names ; but his eagle nature was
quite above noticing it. One General gave orders to his
men to be sure and capture the eagle of the Eighth Wis-
consin ; saying, he " would rather have him than a dozen
battle-flags." But for all that, he scarcely lost a feather, —
only one from his right wing. At last the w^ar was over,
and the brave Wisconsin Eighth, with their live eagle and
torn and riddled flags, were welcomed back to Madison.
They went out a thousand strong, and returned a little
band, scarred and toil-worn, having fought and won.
10. And what of the Soldier Bird ? In the name of
the gallant veterans, Captain Wolf presented him to the
State. Governor Lewis accepted the illustrious gift, and
ample quarters are provided for him in the beautiful State^
house grounds, where may he long live to tell us
** What heroes from the woodland sprang,
When, through the fresh awakened land,
The thrilling cry of Freedom rang."
11. Nor is the end yet. At the great fair in Chicago,
an enterprising gentleman invited "Abe" to attend. He
had colored photographs of the old hero struck ofi^, and
sold sixteen thousand seven hundred dollars' worth for the
benefit of poor and sick soldiers. Has not the American
Eagle done his part' ? May not the Venerable Veteran
rest upon his honors' ?
UNION FIFTH READER. 73
12. ^' 'Tis many a stormy day
Since, out of the cold, bleak North,
Our great war Eagle sailed forth
To swoop o'er battle and fray.
Many and many a day.
O'er charge and storm hath he wheeled,—
Foray and fough ten-field, —
Tramp, and volley, and rattle ! —
Over crimson trench and turf,
Over climbing clouds of surf,
Through tempest and cannon-rack,
Have his terrible pinions whirled ; —
(A thousand fields of battle !
A million leagues of foam !)
But our Bird shall yet come back,
He shall soar to his aerie-home, —
And his thunderous wings be furled,
In the gaze of a gladdened world,
On the Nation's loftiest dome ! "
LESSON XT.
^ Doub' le-quick, the fastest time or step, in marching, next to the run,
requiring one hundred and sixty-five steps, each thirty-three inches in
length, to be taken in one minute.
2 Aid'- DE-CAMP, {did'-de-kdng,) an officer selected by a general officer to
assist him in his military duties.
2 Met a mor' pho sis, (meta, over ; morphosis, Jbrminff,) a forming over:
change; transformation.
THE BATTLE-FIELD.
NO person who was not upon the ground, and an eye*
witness of the stirring scenes which there transpired,
can comprehend, from a description, the terrible realities of
a battle ; and even those who participated are competent
4
74 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
to speak only of their own personal experience. Where
friends and foes are falling by scores, and every species
of missile is flying through the air, threatening each in-
stant to send one or more into eternity, little time is af-
forded for more observation or reflection than is required
for personal safety.
2. The scene is one of the most exciting and exhilarating
that can be conceived. Imagine a regiment passing you
at " double-quick," ^ the men cheering with enthusiasm,
their teeth set, their eyes flashing,, and the whole in a
frenzy of resolution. You accompany them to the field.
They halt. An Aid-de-camp ^ passes to or from the com-
mandinor General. The clear voices of the officers ring
along the line in tones of passionate eloquence ; their
words burning, thrilling, and elastic. The word is given
to march, and the body moves into action.
3. For the first time in your life, you listen to the whiz-
zing of iron. Grape and canister fly into the ranks, bomb-
shells burst overhead, and the fragments fly around you.
A friend falls ; perhaps a dozen or twenty of your com-
rades lie wounded or dying at your feet ; a strange, invol-
untary shrinking steals over you, which it is impossible to
resist. You feel inclined neither to advance nor recede,
but are spell-bound by the contending emotions of the
moral and physical man. The cheek blanches, the lips
quiver, and the eye almost hesitates to look upon the
appalling scene.
4. In this attitude you may, perhaps, be ordered to stand
an hour inactive ; havoc, meanwhile, marking its footsteps
with blood on every side. Finally the order is given to
advance, to fire, or to charge. And now, what a meta-
morphosis ! ^ With your first shot, you become a new
man. Personal safety is your least concern. Fear has
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 75
no existence in your bosom. Hesitation gives way to an
uncontrollable desire to rush into the thickest of the fight,
and to vie with others in deeds of daring.
5. The dead and dying around you, if they, receive a
passing thought, only serve to stimulate you to revenge.
You become cool and deliberate, and watch the effect of
the bullets, the shower of bursting shells, the passage
of cannon-balls, as they rake their murderous channels
through your ranks, the plunging of wounded. horses, the
agonies of the dying, and the clash of contending arms
which follows the dashing charge, with a feeling so cal-
loused by surrounding circumstances, that your soul seems
dead to every sympathizing and selfish thought. Such
is the spirit which carries the soldier through the exciting
scenes of the battle-field.
6. But when the excitement has passed, when the roll
of musketry has ceased, the thunderings of the cannons
are stilled, the dusky pall of sulphureous smoke has risen
from the field, and you stroll over the theater of carnage,
hearing the groans of the wounded, discovering here, shat-
tered almost beyond recognition, the form of some dear
friend whom, only an hour before, you met in the full flush
of life and happiness, there another perforated by a bullet,
a third with a limb shot away, a fourth with his face dis-
figured, a fifth almost torn to fragments, a sixth a headless
corpse, the ground plowed up and stained with blood, hu-
man brains splashed around, limbs without bodies, and
bodies without limbs, scattered here and there, and the
same picture duplicated scores of times, — then you begin
to realize the horrors of war, and experience a reaction of
nature.
7. The heart opens its flood-gates, humanity asr^erts her-
self again, and you begin to feel. Friend and foe alike
76 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
now receive your kindest ministering s. The enemy, whom,
but a short time before, full of hate, you were doing all in
your power to kill, you now endeavor to save. You sup-
ply him with water to quench his thirst, with food to sus-
tain his strength, and with sympathizing Avords to soothe
his troubled mind. All that is humane or charitable in
your nature now rises to the surface, and you are ani-
mated by that spirit of mercy " which blesseth him that
gives, and him that takes." A battle-field is eminently a
place that tries men's souls.
LESSON XII.
* Tour' na ment, {tur' na ment.) A mock-fight or military sport, in which
a number of combatants are engaged, for an exhibition of their address
and bravery.
* Guer' DON, {ge/ don,) reward; recompense; requital.
'Bas'tion, {hasC yun,) a part of the main inclosure of a fortress, which
projects toward the exterior, consisting oi faces and Jianks.
SONG OF THE CANNON-BALL.
I COME from the ether, cleft hotly aside,
Through the air of the soft summer morning ;
I come with a song as I dash on my way, —
Both a dirge and a message of warning:
No sweet, idle dreams, nor romance of love,
Nor Poet's soft balm-breathing story
Of armor-clad knight, at tournament * gay,
Where a scarf was the guerdon ^ of glory ; —
Whistling so airily
Past the ear warily,
Watching me narrowly.
Crashing I come !
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 77
2. Swift-hurled from the bastion,^ 'mid vohimes of smoke,
I dash a grim messenger flying ;
Before me the livincr — behind me — alas !
(^Z.) There are wounded men gasping and dying.
I carry dispatches, written in blood,
With a death-wound I seal and deliver.
Is it strange that a destiny fearful as this
Makes the song of the cannon-ball quiver' ? —
Whistling so wearily,
Sighing so airily,
Hymning* so dreamily
A dirge f 07^ the dead!
3. I swerve from the track, when the stout ashen lance
Is crowned with the banner of glory ;
I kiss the bright folds as I dash on my way,
While the flag to the wind tells the story.
Evermore 'tis my errand to knock at the door,
Where life keeps its watch o'er the portal ;
I batter the clay, — but the tenant within
Deserts to the army immortal :
None ever flying there,
Nevermore sio-hino; there.
Nevermore dying there, —
Yonder — in Heaven!
4. I turn me aside from the young soldier lad.
Where the angels their bright robes fold o'er him ;
I see their bright wings as they ward me aside, —
'Tis the prayer of the faithful who love him.
Close, close to his temples, I brush the bright locks,
He laughs at my song, never guessing
' * Pronounced hymfning with he n sounded.
78 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
How liis mother, bent low at the foot of the cross,
Brings down for him safety and blessing:
Yielding him tearfully,
Watching so fearfully,
Trusting yet cheerfully, —
God keep her hoy !
5. How I laugh when the oak to his ruo-cred old breast
Takes me home with a sigh and a quiver ;
Or, splashing, I sink in the welcoming wave
Closing ov^er me, for aye and forever.
Nay — better than this — when I've written my name
On the walls of the fortress all over,
I'll rest me at last, when around me shall grow
Green grass, starry daisies, and clover ; —
Sweet in the summer air.
Waving their blossoms fair,
Cover the minstrel there ^
Silent forever !
LESSON XIII.
THE CHILDREN OF THE BATTLE-FIELD.
JAMES G. CLARK.
The followinj? touching stanzas received the prize offered by the Philadel-
phia Christian Commission for a poem on the death of Sergeant Humiston,
of Portville, N.Y., who was found dead at Gettysburg several days after the
battle, with his eyes fixed upon the ambrotype of his three children.
1. TTPON the field of Gettysburg
U The summer sun was high.
When Freedom met her haughty foe,
Beneath a Northern sky ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 79
Among the heroes of the North,
Who swelled her grand array,
And rushed, Hke mountain eagles forth,
From happy homes away,
There stood a man of humble name,
A sire of children three.
And gazed within a little frame,
Their pictured forms to see ;
And blame him not, if in the strife
He breathed a soldier's prayer : —
" Oh^ Father ! guard the soldier'' 8 wife^
And for his children care / "
2. Upon the field of Gettysburg
When morning shone again.
The crimson cloud of battle burst
In streams of fiery rain ;
Our legions quelled the awful flood
Of shot, and steel, and shell.
While banners, marked with ball and blood.
Around them rose and fell ;
And none more nobly won the name
. Of Champion for the Free
Than he who pressed the little frame
That held his children three ;
And none \yqvq braver in the strife
Tlian he who breathed the prayer : —
" 07i, Father ! guard the soldier's wife,
And for his children care / "
8. Upon the field of Gettysburg
The full moon slowly rose ;
She looked and saw ten thousand brows
All pale in death's repose ;
80 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
And, down beside a silver stream,
From other forms away,
Calm as a warrior in a dream
Our fallen comrade lay ;
(o) His limbs were cold, his sightless eyes
Were fixed upon the three ;
Sweet stars that rose in memory's skies
To light him o'er death's sea.
Then honored be the soldier's life,
And hallowed be his prayer : —
" Ohj Father ! guard the soldier's wife^
And for his children care ! "
LESSON XI Y.
THE BRAVE AT HOME.
ANON.
THE Maid who binds her warrior's * sash,
With a smile that well her grief dissembles,
The while beneath her drooping lash
One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,
Though Heaven alone record the tear,
And Fame shall never know her story,
Her heart doth shed a drop as dear
As ever dewed the field of glory.
The Wife who girds her husband's sword,
'Mid little ones who weep and wonder.
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart be rent asunder, -■—_
* Pronounced wo/
yur.
UNION FIFTH READER. 81
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
Tlie bolts of war around iiini rattle,
Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er
Was poured upon a field of battle.
3. The Mother who conceals her grief,
When to her heart her son she presses,
Then breathes a few brave words and brief,
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses.
With no one but her secret God
To know the pain that weighs upon her,
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod
Received on Freedom's field of honor.
LESSOlSr XV. '
THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE.
N. Y. OBSICllVEU.
« T THOUGHT, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Bennie to
J. liis country, that not a father in all this broad land
made so precious a gift, — no, not one. The dear boy
only slept a minute, just one little minute^ at his post : I
knoiv that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty.
How prompt and reliable he was ! I hioio he only fell
asleep one little second; — he was so young^ and not
strong, that boy of mine ! Why, he was af^ tall as I, and
only eighteen ! and now they shoot him because he wag
found asleep Avhen doing sentinel duty ! Twenty-four
liours, the telegram said, — only twenty-four hours.
Where is Bennie nowf''
2. " We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr.
Allan, soothingly.
6
82 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
" Yes, yes ; let us hope : God is very merciful !
" ' I should be ashamed, father ! ' Bennie said, ' when I
am a man, to think I never used this great right arm,'
— and he held it out so proudly before me, — ' for my
country, wlien it needed it ! Palsy it rather than keep
it at the plow ! '
" ' Go, then go, my boy,' I said, ' and God keep you !'
God Aas kept him, I think, Mr. Allan!" and the farmer
repeated these last words slowly, as if, in spite of his reason,
his heart doubted them.
" Like the apple of his eye, Mr. Owen, doubt it not ! "
3. Blossom had sat near them listening, with blanched
cheek. She had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been
so concealed that no one had noticed it. She had occu-
pied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now she
answered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to
receive from a neighbor's hand a letter. '' It is from 7im,"
was all she said.
It was like a message from the dead ! Mr. Owen took
the letter, but could not break the envelope, on account of
his trembling; fino;ers, and held it toward Mr. Allan, with
the helplessness of a child.
4. The minister opened it, and read as follows : —
" Dear Father : — When this reaches you, I shall be in
eternity. At first, it seemed awful to me ; but I have
thought about it so much now, that it has no tei-ror. They
say they will not bind me, nor blind me ; but that I may
meet my death like a man. I thought, fluhcr, it might
have been on the battle-field, for my country, and that,
when I fell, it would be fighting gloriously ; but to be shot
down like a dog for nearly betraying it, — to die for neglect
of duty ! 0, father, I wonder the very thought does not
kill me ! But I shall not disgrace yoa I am goiny* to
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 83
write you all about it ; and when I am gone, you may tell
my comrades. I can not now.
5. " You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother, I
would look after her boy ; and, when he fell sick, I did all I
could for him. He was not strong when he was ordered
back into the ranks, and the day before that night, I carried
all his luggage, besides my own, on our march. Toward
night we went in on double-quick,^ and though the luggage
began to feel very heavy, everybody else was tired too ; and
as for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now and then,
he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired out
when we came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to
be sentry, and I would take his place ; but I was too tired,
father. I could not have kept awake if a gun had been
pointed at my head; but I did not know it until — well,
until it was too late.''^
6. " God be thanked ! " interrupted Mr. Owen, rever-
ently. " I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly
at his post."
^' They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, —
given to me by circumstances, — ' time to write to you,' our
good Colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his
duty ; he would gladly save me if he could: and do not lay
my death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is broken-
hearted, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let
him die in my stead.
7. " I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Com-
fort them, father ! Tell them I die as a brave boy should,
and that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed
of me, as they must be now. God help me ; it is very
hard to bear ! Good-by, father ! God seems near and dear
to me, not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but
as if He felt sorry for his poor, sinful, broken-hearted child.
84 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and would take me to be with Him and my Savior in a
better — better life."
A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. " Amen,"
he said solemnly, — " Amen."
" To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all
coming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom stand
on the back stoop, waiting for me, — but I shall never —
never come ! God bless you all 1 Forgive your poor
Bennie."
8. Late that night the door of the " back stoop " opened
softly, and a little figure glided out, and down the foot-path
that led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying
than walking, turning her head neither to the right nor the
left, looking only now and then to Heaven, and folding her
hands, as if in prayer. Two hours later, the same young
girl stood at the Mill Depot, w^atching the coming of the
night train ; and the conductor, as he reached down to lift
her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was
upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A
few questions and ready answers told him all ; and no
father could have cared more tenderly for his only child,
than he for our little Blossom.
9. She was on her way to Washington, to ask President
Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leav-
ing only a note to tell her father where and why she had
gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her : no good,
kind heart, like the President's, could refuse to be melted by
it. The next morning they reached New York, and the
conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute,
now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And
so, in an incredibly short time. Blossom reached the Cap-
ital, and hastened immediately to the White House.
10. The President had but just seated himself to his
UNION FIFTH READEK. 85
morning's task, of overlooking and signing important pa-
pers, when, without one word of ainiouncement, tlie door
softly opened, and Blossom, with downcast eyes, and folded
liands, stood before him.
" Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones,
" what do you want so bright and early in the morning ? "
'' Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom.
" Bennie' ? Who is Bennie ? "
" My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for
sleeping at his post."
11. " Oh, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the
papers before him. " I remember ! It was a fatal sleep.
You see, child, it was at a time of special danger. Thou-
sands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negli-
gence."
" So my father said," replied Blossom gravely, " but
poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He
did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie' s night, not
his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought
about himself, that he was tired too."
" What is this you say', child ? Come here ; I do not
understand," and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, at
what seemed to be a justification of an offense.
12. Blossom went to him : he put his hand tenderly on
her shoulder, and turned up the pale, anxious face toward
his. How tall he seemed, and he w^as President of the
United States too ! A dim thought of this kind passed for
a moment through Blossom's mind ; but she told her simple
and straightforward story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Ben-
nie's letter to read.
He read it carefully ; then, taking up his pen, wrote a
few hasty lines, and rang his bell.
Blossom heard this order mven : '* Send this dispatch
86 SANDERS' tJNIOK SERIES.
13. The President then turned to the girl and said, —
" Go home, my child, and tell that father of yours, who
could approve his country's sentence, even when it took
the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks
the life far too precious to be lost. Go back, or — wait
until to-morrow ; Bennie will need a change after he has so
bravely faced death ; he shall go with you."
" God bless you, sir," said Blossom ; and who shall
doubt that God heard and registered the request?
14. Two days after this interview, the young soldier
came to the White House with his little sifter. He was
called into the President's private room, and a strap fastened
"upon the shoulder." Mr. Lincoln then said, — "The
soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die
for the good act so uncomplainingly, deserves "well of his
country." Then Bennie and Blossom took their way to
their Green Mountain home. A cowd gathered at the
Mill Depot to welcome them back ; and, as farmer Owen's
hand grasped that of his boy, tears flowed down his
cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently, — " The Lord
BE PRAISED ! "
Question. — Why the rising inflection on Bennie and say, as marked in
the 10th and 11th paragraphs ? See page 29, Note I. under Rule 11.
LESSON XYI
THE LAST RIDE.
MISS MULOCK.
" TT'OU mnst let me remain out a good while to-day, I
X feel so strong ; and, perhaps, I might stay a little
later, to watch the sunset. I never can see it from my
room, you know ; which seems rather hard, now the even-
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 87
ings are so beautiful and spring-like." Philip soothed him
as an elder brother might have done, and promised all,
provided he felt strong enough. Then he took Leigh in
his arms like a child, and carried him down stairs to the
gay carriage.
2. "Now, where shall we go, Leigh?" was the first
question proposed, as they drove along High Street. Leigh
pleaded for some quiet road : he wanted to go far out in
the country, — -to that beautiful lane which runs along by
the river side. He had been there once at the beginning
of his illness, and had often talked of the place since. It
haunted him, he said, with its overhanging trees, and the
river view breaking in between them, — its tiny wavelets
all sparkling in the sun. He knew it would look just the
same this calm, bright May afternoon. So, accordingly,
they went thither.
3. It was one of those spring days when the Earth seems
to rest from her joyful labor of budding and blossoming,
and to be dreaming of summer. The birds in the trees,
the swans in the water, the white clouds in the sky, were
alike still ; and upon all things had fallen the spell of a
blessed silence — a silence full of happiness, and hope, and
love. Happiness, hope, and love, what words, what idle
words, they would sound unto the two who were passing
slowly under the shadow of the trees ! Oh, Earth ! beauti-
ful, cruel mother ! How canst thou smile with a face so fair,
when sorrow or death is on thy children ! But the Earth
answers softly : — "I smile with a calm and changeless
smile to tell my frail children that if in me^ made but for
their use, is such ever-renewed life and joy, shall it not be
so with them! ? And even while they gaze upon me, I
pour into their hearts my deep peace ! "
4. It was so Avith Philip and Leigh. They sat silent,
88 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
hand in hand, and looked on this beautiful scene : from
both the bitterness passed away — the bitterness of life,
and that of death. Which was the greater ? On the
bridge, Leigh spoke. He begged tliat the carriage might
rest a moment, to let him look at the sunset, which was
very lovely. He half lifted himself up, and the large,
brown eyes seemed drinking in all the beauty that was in
land, river, and sky : they rested longest there. Then they
turned to meet Philip's : that mute gaze between the two
was full of solemn meaning. "Are you content?" wliis-
pered Philip. " Yes, quite : now let us go home."
5. Leigh's eyes closed, and his voice grew faint. " You
seem tired," said tlie other anxiously. " Yes, a little.
Take me home soon, will you, Philip ? " His head
drooped on the young man's shoulder heavily — so heav-
ily that Pliihp signed to the coachman to drive on at his
utmost speed. Then he put his arm around the boy, who
lay with closed eyes, his white cheek looking gray and
sunken in the purple evening light. Once Philip spoke,
almost trembling lest no answer should come. "Are you
quite easy, dear Leigh ? " The eyes opened, and the lips
parted with a faint smile. " Yes, thank you ; only weary :
I can hardly keep awake ; but I must till I have seen my
mother."
6. And still the dying head sank heavier on Philip's
shoulder, and the hands, which he drew in his to warm
them, were already growing damp and rigid. He sat with
this solemn burden in his arms, and the carriage drove
homeward until they entered the square. The mother
stood at the door ! " Take her away, only one minute,"
whispered Philip to the servant ; but she had sprung
already to the carriage. " Leigh ! how is my darling
Leigh?" Her voice seemed to pierce even through the
UNION FIFTH READER. 80
shadows of another world, and to reach the dying boy. He
opened his eyes, and smiled tenderly upon lier. " Leigh
is tired — almost asleep. Take the cushion, and I will
carry him in," said Philip hastily to the mother. She
obeyed without a word ; but her face grew deadly white,
and her hands trembled.
7. When the boy was placed, as he seemed to wish, in
liis mother's arm-chair, she came and knelt before him,
lookinor into his face. There was a shadow there. She
saw it, and felt that the time was come when not even the
mother could stand between her child and death. Philip
thought she would have shrieked, or fainted ; but she did
neither. She only gazed into the dim eyes with a wild,
earnest, almost beseeching gaze. " Mother, will you let
me go ?" murmured Leigh. She drew a long sigh, as if
repressing an agony so terrible that the struggle was like
that of a soul parting; and then said, — " Yes, my dar-
ling ! "
8. He smiled, — Avhat a heaven is there in the happy
smile of the dying! — and suffered her fond ministering
hands — unwilling even yet to give up their long tend-
ance — to unfasten the cloak, and put the wine to his lips.
Then she sat down beside him, laid his head on her bosom,
and awaited — oh, mighty strength of a mother's love ! —
awaited, tearless and calm, the passing away of the life
which she had given. "He is quite content — quite
happy — he told me so," Philip whispered in her ear, with
his soft comforting voice. She turned round one moment
with a startled air: — " Yes, yes, I know, (jt?.) Hush ! "
and she bent down again over her child, whose faint lips
seemed trying to frame, scarcely louder than a sigh, the
last word, — " Mother ! "
9. Then there fell over the twilight-shadowed room a
90 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
solemn silence, long and deep, in the midst of which the
spirit passed. They only knew that it was so, when, as
the moon rose, the pale, spiritual light fell on the calm face
of the dead boy, still pillow^ed on the mother's breast.
She turned and looked upon it without a tear, or a moan,
so beautiful, so heavenly w^as it! At that moment, had
they put to her the question of old, — "Is it well with
the child ? " * she would have answered like the Shunam*
ite, — "It is well!"
LESSON XYIL
* Su per'nal, {stjteu, above;) relating to things above; celestial; heavenly
PASSING TO THE SUPERNAL.*
SAT. EVE. POST.
!• T AM drifting, slowly drifting,
JL With the changing waves of time ;
Every scene around me shifting,
And each moment more sublime.
As I near the great eternal,
Passing on to the supernal,
Through the grave.
2. On each shore are hidden treasures,
'Neath, the waves rare jewels play ;
Time bears on in rapid measures ;
I, to seek them, may not stay ;
For my home is the eternal.
And I pass to the supernal,
Through the grave.
* 2 Kings, 4lli chap., 26th verse.
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 91
Sometimes on the foamy billow,
Sometimes in the sinking sand,
Weary head can find no pillow,
Weary feet can find no land ;
But I 'm nearer the eternal,
Passing on to the supernal,
Through the grave.
Dark the clouds that float above me,
Fierce the winds that round me play ;
Changing waves that ever move me.
Drifting — here I may not stay ;
For I see the great eternal,
And I press to the supernal,
Through the grave.
Darker still the skies that cover.
Icy chill the waters now ;
Angel wings above me hover,
Angels smooth the death-pale brow.
Lo ! I enter the eternal.
And I pass to joys supernal,
Through the grave !
LESSON XVIII.
SUNSHINE AND SHOWERS.
1. rpWO children stood at their father's gate,
JL Two girls with golden hair ;
And their eyes were bright, and their voices glad,
Because the morn was fair.
92 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
For they said, — " We will take that long, long walk
In the hawthorn copse to-day ;
And gather great bunches of lovely flowers
. From off the scented May ;
And oh ! we shall be so happy there
'Twill be sorrow to come away I"
2. As the children spoke, a little cloud
Passed slowly across the sky ;
And one looked up in her sister's face
With a tear-drop in her eye.
But the other said, — " Oh ! heed it not ;
'Tis far too fair to ram ;
That little cloud may search the sky
For other clouds, in vain."
And soon the children's voices rose
In merriment again.
3. But ere the mcrning hours waned.
The sky had changed its hue.
And that one cloud had chased away
The whole great heaven of blue.
The rain fell down in heavy drops,
The wind began to blow.
And the children, in their nice warm room.
Went fretting to and fro ;
For they said, — " When we have aught in store,
It always happens so ! "
4. Now these two fair-haired sisters
Had a brother out at sea ;
A little midshipman, aboard
The gallant "- Victory."
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 93
And on that self-same morning,
When they stood beside the gate,
His ship was wrecked ! and on a raft
He stood all desolate,
With the other sailors round him,
Prepared to meet their fate.
5. Beyond they saw the cool, green land, —
The land with her waving trees.
And her little brooks, that rise and fall
Like butterflies in the breeze.
But above, the burning noontide sun
With scorching stillness shone ;
Their throats were parched with bitter thirst,
And they knelt down, one by one,
And prayed to God for a drop of rain,
And a gale to waft them on.
6. And then that little cloud was sent, —
That shower in mercy given !
And, as a bird before the breeze.
Their bark was laiidward driven.
And some few mornings after.
When the children met once more,
And their brother told the story.
They knew it was the hour
When they had wished for sunshine^
And God had sent the shower.
94 SANDEBS' UNION SEBIES.
LESSON XIX.
^ Ba' con, Francis, usually known as Lord Bacon, was bom in London,
England, Jan. 22, 1560, and died 1626. He was famous as a scholar,
a wit, a lawyer, a judge, a statesman, a politician, but chiefly as a
philosopher.
New'' ton. Sir Isaac, the greatest of English philosophers, was born in
Lincolnshire, Dec. 25, 1642, and died March 20, 1727. His three great
discoveries, of fluxions, the nature of light and colors, and the law of
gravitation, were conceived before he was twenty-five years of age. On
witnessing the fall of an apple, he was led into a train of reflection,
which resulted in his theory of gravitation. He was a profound mathe-
matician, and a sincere Christian. Certain prophecies in the Bible
led him to infer that men would, one day, be able to travel at the
rate of Jijly miles an hour. How marvelously has his belief been
verified !
EDUCATION, OUR OWN WORK.
JOHN TODD.
THE human mind is the brightest display of the power
and skill of the Infinite Mind with which we are
acquainted. It is created and placed in this world to be
educated for a hicrher state of existence. Here its faculties
begin to unfold, and those mighty energies, which are to
bear it forward to unendino; ao-es, bemn to discover them-
selves. The object of training such a mind should be, to
enable the soul to fulfill her duties well here, and to stand
on high vantage-ground, when she leaves this cradle of her
being, for an eternal existence beyond the grave.
2. Most students need encouragement to sustain, in-
struction to aid, and direction to guide them. Few,
probably, ever accomplish any thing like as much as they
expected or ought ; and perhaps one reason is, that they
waste a vast amount of time in acquiring that experience
which they need. Doubtless, multitudes are now in the
process of education, who will never reach any tolerable
TJNION FIFTH HEADER. 95
standard of excellence.. Probably some never could ; but,
in most cases, they might. The exceptions are few. In
most cases young men do feel a desire, more or less strong,
of fitting themselves for respectability and usefulness.
3. You may converse with any man, however distin-
guished for attainments, or habits of application, or power
of using what he knows, and he will sigh over the re-
membrance of the past, and tell you that there have
been many fragments of time which he has wasted, and
many opportunities which he has lost forever. If he had
only seized upon the fleeting advantages, and gathered
up the fragments of time, he might have pushed his re-
searches out into new fields, and, like the immortal
Bacon,^ have amassed vast stores of knowledge. The
mighty minds which "have gone before us have left
treasures for our inheritance ; and the choicest gold is
to be had for the digging.
4. The object of hard study is not to draw out genius,
but to take minds such as are formed of common mold,
and fit them for active and decisive usefulness. Nothing
is so much coveted by a young man as the reputation of
being a genius ; and many seem to feel that the want of
patience for laborious apphcation and deep research is
such a mark of genius as can not be mistaken : while a
real genius, like Sir Isaac Newton,^ w^ith great modesty
says, that the great and only difference between his mind
and the minds of others consisted solely in his having
more patience.
5. You may have a good mind, a sound judgment, a
vivid imagination, or a wide reach of thought and views ;
but you can never become distinguished Avithout severe
application. Hence, all that you ever have must be the
result of labor, — hard, untiring labor. You have friends
96 SANDEBS' UNION SERIES.
to cheer you on, and you have books and teachers to aid
you ; but, after all, disciplining and educating your mind
must be your own work. No one can do this but yourself.
And nothing in this world is of any worth which has not
labor and toil as its price.
6. The first and great object of education is, to discipline
the mind, ^- to fit it for future acquisition and usefulness.
Make it the first object to be able to fix and hold your
attention upon your studies. He who can do this, has
mastered many and great difficulties ; and he who can not
do it, will in vain look for success in any department of
study. To effect any j)urpose in study, the mind must be
concentrated. If any other object plays on the fancy than
that which ought to be exclusively before it, the mind is
divided, and both are neutralized, so as to lose their
effect.
7. Patience is a virtue kindred to attention ; and with-
out it, the mind can not be said to be disciplined. Patient
labor and investigation are not only essential to success in
study, but are an unfailing guarantee to success. The stu-
dent should learn to think and act for himself. True origi-
nality consists in doing things well, and doing them in our
own way. A mind, half-educated, is generally imitating
others. No man was ever great by imitation. Let it be
remembered that we can not copy greatness or goodness
by any effort. We must acquire them, if ever attained,
by our own patience and diligence.
8. Students are in danger of neglecting the memory. It
is too valuable to be neglected; for, by it, wonders are
sometimes accomplished. He who has a memory that can
seize with an iron grasp, and retain what he reads, — the
ideas, simply, without the language, — and judgment to
compare and balance, will scarcely fail of being distin-
UNION FIFTH READER. 97
guislied. Wliy has that mass of thought, observation, and
experience, which is embodied in books by the multitude
of minds which have gone before us, been gathered, if not
that we may use it, and stand on high ground, and push
our Avay still farther into the boundaries and regions of
knowledoje ?
9. Let every student reflect, that this is the time to
form habits, and to begin a course of mental discipline,
which, in a few years, will raise him high in the esteem
and the honors of his fellow-men. Every distinguished
man has traveled the same path. There is no other road
to knowledge, to improvement, to distinction. This very
discipline is the only thing that can bring the mind under
proper subjection.
LESSOISr XX.
SELF-CULTURE.
CHANNING.
SELF-CULTURE is something possible. It is not a
dream. It has foundations in our nature. Without
this conviction, the speaker will but declaim, and the hearer
listen, without profit. There are two powers of the human
soul which make self-culture possible, — the self -searching
and the self-forming power. We have first the faculty of
turning the mind on itself; of recalHng its past and watch-
ing its present operations ; of learning its various capacities
and susceptibilities, — what it can do and bear, what it can
enjoy and suffer ; and of thus learning in general what our
nature is, and what it is made for.
2. It is worthy of observation, that we are able to discern
not only what we already are, but what we may become ;
5
98 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
to see in ourselves germs and promises of a growth to
which no bounds can be set ; and that, by using the powers
which God has given us, we can dart beyond what we have
actually gained. But self-culture is possible, not only be-
cause we can enter into and search ourselves, but because
we have a still nobler power ^ that of acting on, determining,
and formino; ourselves. This is a fearful as well as glorious
endowment ; for it is the ground of human responsibility.
We have the power not only of tracing our powers, but of
guiding and impeUing them ; not only of watching our pas-
sions, but of controlhng them ; not only of seeing our facul-
ties grow, but of applying to them means and influences
to aid their growth.
3. We can stay or change the current of thought. We
can concentrate the intellect on objects which we wdsh to
comprehend. We can flx our eyes on perfection, and make
almost every thing speed us toward it. Of all the discov-
eries which men need to make, the most important, at the
present moment, is that of the self-forming power treasured
up in themselves. They little suspect its extent, — as little
as the savage apprehends the energy which the mind is
created to exert on the material world. It transcends in
importance all our power over outward nature. There
is more divinity in it than in the force which impels
the outward universe ; and yet how little we compre-
hend it ! How it slumbers in most men unsuspected,
unused ! This makes self-culture possible, and binds it
on us as a solemn duty.
4. To cultivate any thing — be it a plant, an animal, or
a mind — is to make it grow. Growth, expansion, is the
end. Nothing admits culture but that which has a prin-
ciple of life capable of being expanded. He, therefore,
who does what he can to unfold all his powers and
UNION FIFTH READEB. 99
capacities, especially his nobler ones, so as to become a
well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, liappy being, prac-
tices self-culture.
5. Self-culture is moral. When a man looks into him-
self, he discovers two distinct orders or kinds of principles,
which it behooves him especially to comprehend. He dis-
covers desires, appetites, passions, which terminate in Mm--
self : which crave and seek his own interest, gratification,
distinction ; and he discovers another principle, in opposition
to these, which is impartial, disin^terested, universal, — en-
joining on him a regard to the rights and happiness of
other beings^ and laying on him obligations which must be
discharged, cost what they may, or however they may clash
with his particular pleasure or gain.
6. No man, however narrowed to his own interest, how-
ever hardened by selfishness, can deny that there springs
up within him a great idea, in opposition to interest, — the
idea of duty ; that an inward voice calls him, more or less
distinctly, to revere and exercise impartial justice and uni-
versal good will. This disin^terested principle in human
nature we call sometimes reason^ sometimes conscience^
sometimes the moral sense or faculty.
7. But, be its name what it may, it is a real principle in
each of us, and it is the supreme power within us, to be
cultivated above all others ; for on its culture the rio;ht
development of all others depends. The passions, indeed,
may be stronger than the conscience, — may lift up a
louder voice ; but their clamor differs wholly from the tone
of command in which the conscience speaks. They are
not clothed with its authority, its binding power. In their
very triumphs they are rebuked by the moral principle, and
often cower before its still, deep, menacing voice.
8. No part of self-knowledge is more important than to
100 SAiJDERS' UNION SEEIES.
discern clearly these two great principles, — the self-seeking
and the disiii'terested ; and the most important part of self-
cultm-e is to depress the former and to exalt the latter, or to
enthrone the sense of duty within us. There are no limits
to the growth of this moral force in man, if he will cherish
it faithfully. There have been men whom no power in
the universe could turn from the right ; to whom death, in
its most dreadful forms, has been less dreaded than trans-
gression of the inward law of universal justice and love.
LESSONXXI.
THE SKATER AND THE WOLVES.
WHITEHEAD.
DURING the winter of 1844, being in the northern part
of Maine, I had much leisure to devote to the sports
of a new country. To none of these was I more passion-
ately addicted than to skating. The deep and sequestered
lakes, frozen by the intense cold of a northern winter, pre-
sent a wide field to the lover of this pastime. Often would
I bind on my skates, glide away up the glittering river,
and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed, beneath its
fetters, on toward the parent ocean, with exultant joy and
dolight. Sometimes these excursions were made by moon-
light ; and it was on one of these latter occasions that I
had a rencounter, which even now I can not recall with-
out a thrill of horror.
2. I had left my friend's house one evening just before
dusk, with the intention of skating a short distance up the
Kennebec, which glided directly before the door. The
night was beautifully clear. The peerless moon rode
UNION FIFTH EEADKll, , , J'jdl
through an occasional fleecy clou;d, thi^ ;st^s,!i|:M^lr\yed*ih
the sky, and every frost-covered tree and shrub sparkled
with rare brilhancy. Light also came glinting from ice,
and snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye fol-
lowed for miles the broad gleam of the river, that, like
a jeweled zone, swept between the mighty forests that
bordered its banks.
3. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to have frozen
tree, air, water, and every living thing. Even the ringing
of my skates echoed back from the hill with a startling
clearness ; and the crackle of the ice, as 1 passed over it
in my course, seemed to follow the tide of the river with
lightning speed. I had gone up the river nearly two miles,
when, coming to a Httle stream which empties into the
larger, I turned into it to explore its course. Fir and hem-
lock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an
archway radiant with frost-work. All was dark within ;
but I was young and fearless, and, as I peered into an un-
broken forest that reared itself on the borders of the stream,
I laughed with very joyousness.
4. My wild hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I
stood listenincr to the echo that reverberated ao-ain and
again, until all was hushed. Suddenly a sound arose ! It
seemed to me to come from the ice beneath my feet. It
was low and tremulous at first ; but it ended in one long
wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise
met my ears. Presently I lieard the brushwood on shore
crash, as though from the tread of some animal. The blood
rushed to my forehead. My energies returned, and I
looked around me for some means of escape. The moon
shone through the opening, at the mouth of the creek, by
which I had entered the forest ; and, considering this the
best way of escape, I darted toward it like an arrow.
102 r>ANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
V < '§-.: The ©peiiing was hardly a hundred yards distant, and
the swallow could scarcely have excelled me in flight ;
yet, as I turned my eyes to the shore, I could see two
dark objects dashing through the brushwood, at a pace
nearly double in speed to my own. By their great speed,
and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I knew
at once that these were the much-dreaded gray wolves. I
had never met with these ferocious animals ; but, from the
description given of them, I had little pleasure in mak-
ing their acquaintance. Their untamable fierceness and
untiring strength render them objects of dread to every
benighted traveler.
6. The bushes that skirted the shore now seemed to
rush past me with the velocity of lightning, as I dashed on
in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The outlet was
nearly gained ; a few seconds more, and I would be com-
paratively safe ; but in a moment my pursuers appeared on
the bank above me, which here rose to the hight of ten or
twelve feet. There was no time for thought. I bent my
head, and dashed wildly forward. The wolves sprang ;
but, miscalculating my speed, fell behind, while their in-
tended prey glided out upon the river I
7. I turned toward home. The light flakes of snow
spun from the iron of my skates, and I was some distance
from my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was
still their fugitive. I did not look back, nor feel afraid.
I thought of home, of the bright faces awaiting my return,
and then all the energies of body and mind were exerted
for escape. I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many
were the days that I had spent on my good skates, never
thinking that they would thus prove my only means of
safety in such imminent peril.
8. Every half minute a furious yelp from my fierce at-
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 103
tendants made me but too certain that they were in close
pursuit. Nearer and nearer they came. 1 heard their feet
pattering on the ice ; I even felt their very breath, and
heard their snuffing scent ! Every nerve and muscle in
my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. The trees
along the shore seemed to dance in an uncertain light, and
my brain turned with my own breathless speed ; yet still
my pursuers seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound
truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part
turned me out of my course.
9. The wolves, close behind, unable to stop, and as un-
able to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going
on far ahead. Their tongues were lolling out ; their white
tusks were gleaming from their bloody mouths ; their dark
shaggy breasts were fleeced with foam ; and, as they passed
me, their eyes glared, and they howled with friry. The
thought flashed on my mind, that, by this means, I could
avoid them, — namely, by turning aside whenever they
came too near ; for, by the formation of their feet, they are
unable to run on ice except in a straight line.
10. I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves,
having regained their feet, sprang directly toward me.
The race was renewed for many yards up the stream:
they were already close on my back, when I glided round
and dashed directly past them. A fierce yell greeted my
evolution, and the wolves, slipping on their haunches, again
sailed onward, presenting a perfect picture of helpless-
ness and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly a hundred
yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three
times, every moment the animals becoming more ex-
cited and baffled.
11. At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my
sanguinary antagonists came so near that they threw their
104 SANDEES* UNION SERIES.
white foam over my dress as they sprang to seize me, and
their teeth clashed together Uke the spring of a fox-trap !
Had my skates failed for one instant, — had I tripped on a
stick, or had my foot been caught in a fissure of the ice, —
the story I am now telling would never have been told.
I thought all the chances over. I thought how long it
would be before I died, and then of the search for my
body ; for oh ! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread
colors of death's picture, only those, who have been near
the grim original, can tell !
12. But I soon came opposite the house, and my hounds
— I knew their deep voices — roused by the noise, bayed
furiously from their kennels. I heard their chains rattle :
how I wished they would break them ! — then I should
have had protectors to match the fiercest denizens of the
forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs,
stopped in their mad career, and, after a few moments,
turned and fled. 1 watched them until their forms disap-
peared over a neighboring hill ; then, taking off my skates,
I wended my way to the house with feelings which may bo
better imagined than described. But even yet, I never
see a broad sheet of ice by moonlight without thinking of
that snuffing breath and those ferocious objects that followed
me so closely down that frozen river.
LESSON XXII.
PURITY OF CHARACTER.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
OVER the beauty of the plum and apricot there may be
seen a bloom and beauty more exquisite than the fruit
itself, — a soft, delicate flush that overspreads its blushing
UNIOK FIFTH llEADEE. 105
eheek. Now, if you strike your Land over that, and it is
once gone, it is gone forever ; for it never grows but once.
The flower that hangs in the morning, impearled with dew,
arrayed with jewels, — once shake it, so that the beads
roll off, and you may sprinkle water over it as you please,
vet it can never be made acrain what it was when the dew
»• ~
fell lightly upon it from heaven.
2. On a frosty morning, you may see the panes of
glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes, and trees,
blended in a beautiful, fantastic picture. Now, lay your
hand upon the glass, and, by the scratch of your fingers, or
by the warmth of the palm, all the delicate tracery will
be immediately obliterated. So^ in youths there is a purity
of character^ which, when once touched and defiled, can
never be restored, — a fringe more delicate than frost-
work, and wliich, when torn and broken, will never be
re-embroidered.
3. A man who has spotted and soiled his garments in
youth, though he may seek to make them white again, can
never wholly do it, even were he to wash them with his
tears. When a young man leaves his father's house, with
the blessing of his mother's tears still wet upon his fore-
head, if he once loses that early purity of character, it is a
loss that he can never make whole again. Such is the con-
sequence of crime. Its effects can not be eradicated ; they
can only be forgiven.
LESSON XXIII.
Al'le go rt is a word of Greek origin. It is made up of two parts,—
ALL, other ; and egory, discourse ; the literal meaning of the compound
being discourse about other things ; that is, things other than those ex-
pressed by the words, literally interpreted. Allegory is, therefore, the
106 SANDERS' UKIOK SERIES.
general name for that class of compositions, as Fables, Apologues, Para'
hies, and Myths, in which there is a double meaning, one literal and the
Qthiiv figurative ; the literal being designed merely to give a more clear
and impressive view of that wliich is figurative.
*Shak'speare, William, was born in Stratford on the Avon, England,
April, 1564; and died 1616. He is accounted, by all, the greatest dra-
matic writer of any age. He has been styled the Poet of Nature, the
poet who holds up to his readers the mirror of manners and of life.
•Ho'mer, the great Grecian poet, flourished about nine hundred years b&
fore the Christian era. He is supposed to have been a strolling bard>
poor and blind. His chief works are the " Iliad " and the " Odvssey."
The Iliad is a poem descriptive of the siege of Troy, in Asia Minor ;
and the Odyssey describes the wanderings of Ulysses on his return
from Troy to his own kingdom in the Island of Ithaca.
THE THREE SISTERS.
AN ALLEGORY.!
'M
ADAM Virtue and Miss Genius,
With their sister, Reputation,
Traveled once througli foreign countries,
On a tour of observation.
2. Ere they started, Genius hinted /
That, by some unlucky blunder,
While they journeyed through the kingdoms,
They might chance to get asunder ;
3. ''And," she said, " it seems but prudent.
Should we break our pleasant tether,
Some device should be suggested
That may bring us three together.
4. "As for me^ if, from my sisters,
I should chance to prove a roamer.
Seek me at the tomb of Shakspeare,'^
Or before the shrine of Homer." ^
tTNION f IFTH READEE. 107
Virtue said, " If I am missing,
And you deem me worth the trouble,
Seek me in the courts of monarchs,
Or the dwelhno;s of the noble.
6. "If, among the high and mighty,
You shall fail to find me present,
You may meet with better fortune
In the cottage of the peasant.'*
7. " Ah ! " said Reputation, sighing,
'^ It is easy of discerning.
Each of you may freely wander
With a prospect of returning !
8. "But, I pray youy guard me closely ;
For, despite your best endeavor,
If you miss me for a moment,
I am lost, — AND LOST forever!"
LESSON XXIY.
* Mil' ton, Joh\, one of the great poets of Eno^land, was born in London.
Dec. 9, 1608, and died Nov. 8, 1675. His life was }3ure and spiritual.
His sympathies and best efforts were freely given to all the noblest
interests of humaniLy. He hated every form of oppression, was the
eloquent advocate of the freedom of the press, and the bold champion
of human rights. When fifty-six years of age, he became totally blind.
He now sat down in poverty, affliction, and obscurity, to work out the
immortality Avhich had been the object of his earliest aspirations. His
latter years were employed in the compositions of " Paradise Lost "
and " Paradise Regained."
108 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
' How'' ARD, JoHNT, a celebrated English philanthropist, was born 1726, and
died 1790, from a malignant fever caught in visiting a sufferer. He
did much to reform the prisons and hospitals of Europe.
^ Har' vey, William, a celebrated physician, was born in England, 1.578,
and died 1657. He was the discoverer of the circulation of the blood,
of which he published an account in 1628.
* Marl' bor odgh, John Churchill, afterwards the Duke of Marlbor-
ough, was the greatest general England ever produced before the
Duke of Wellington, and one of the greatest of modern Europe. He
was bom at Ashton, July 5, 1650, and died Aug. 6, 1722.
* Wel' ling ton, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, was born in
Ireland, May 1, 1769, and died 1852. He is regarded as the greatest
English general. He won the battle of Waterloo against Napoleoa
in 1815.
DESERVE IT I
ANON.
1. "VTE 'ER droop your head upon your hand,
l.\ And wail the bitter times ;
The self-same bell
That tolls a knell
Can ring out merry chimes.
And we have still the elements
That made up fame of old ,
The wealth to prize
WitJiin us lies,
And not in senseless gold.
Yes ; there exists a certain plan,
If you will but obsers^e it,
That opes success to any man ;
The secret is — deserve it !
2. What use to stand by Fortune's hill
And idly sigh and mope ?
Its sides are rough.
And steep enough,
'Tis true ; but if you hope
UNION FIFTH READER. 109
To battle 'gainst impediments
That rudely stop your way,
Go boldly to't ;
Strike at the root :
You'll sui-ely gain the day.
Prate not about new-fangled plans, —
Mine's best, if you'll observe it :
I say success is any man's
If he will but deserve it !
3. Homer and Milton ^ reign supreme
With Shakspeare — worthy band ;
And How^ard's^ name,
And Harvey's^ claim.
Are sung throughout the land ;
And Marlborough^ and Wellington*
Illustrious stand in fight ;
And Newton gleams
Amid the beams
Gf an undying light !
What did they do to gain a name ?
What did they to preserve it
With an untarnished, deathless fame ?
They simply did — deserve it!
4. And thus may you — and you — and you —
From depths the most profound,
Your wishes teach
Success to reach
Up to the topmost round.
But if, from some unreckoned cause,
(Say, market overstocked,)
Your hoped-for spoil
Pay others' toil.
110 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Think not your efforts mocked :
If Fortune's smile so faintly beam
That you can scarce preserve it,
Remember, there is One above.
Who knows that you deserve it!
LESSON XXV.
THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP.
" T)LEDGE with wine — pledge with wine!" cried the
X young and thoughtless Harvey. " Pledge with
wine!" ran through the bridal party.
The beautiful bride grew pale. She pressed her hands
together, and the leaves of her bridal wreath trembled on
her brow ; her breath came quicker, and her heart beat
wilder.
" Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this once,"
said the judge, in a low tone, " the company expect it. Do
not so seriously infringe upon the iniles of etiquette : * in
your own home do as you please ; but in mine^ for this
once, please me."
2. Every eye was turned toward the bridal pair. Mar-
ion's principles were well known. Harvey had been a
convivialist ; but of late his friends noticed the change hi
his manners, and the difference in his habits.
Pouring a brimming cup, they held it with tempting
smiles toward Marion. She was very pale, though now
more composed. Smiling, she accepted the crystal tempter,
and raised it to her lips. But scarcely had she done so,
* Pronounced Et i hetf.
UNION FIFTH REABEE. Ill
when every liand was arrested by her piercing exclama-
tion of "OA, how terrible!''
"What is it?" cried one and all, thronging together;
for she had slowly carried the glass at arm's-length,
and was reo-arding: it as though it was some hideous
object.
8. "Wait," she answered, "wait, and I will tell you. I
see," she added, slowly pointing one of her jeweled fingers
at the sparkling liquid, " a sight that beggars all descrip-
tion ; and yet listen, — I will paint it for you, if I can. It
is a lovely spot ; tall mountains, crowded with verdure,
rise in awful sublimity around* a river runs through, and
bright flowers grow to the water's edge. There is a thick,
warm mist that the sun seeks vainly to pierce. Trees,
lofty and beautiful, wave to the motion of the breeze.
But there a group of Indians gather, and flit to and fro
with something like sorrow upon their dark brows ; and
in their midst lias a manly form — but his cheek, how
deathly ! — his eyes, how wildly they glare around with
the fitfal fire of fever !
4. " One friend stands beside him, — I should say kneels,
— for see ! he is pillowing that poor head upon his breast.
Genius in ruins on the high, holy-looking brow ! Why
should Death mark it, and he so young ? Look ! how he
throws back the damp curls ! See him clasp his hands !
hear his shrieks for life ! how he clutches at the form of
his companion, imploring to be saved ! Oh, hear him call
piteously his father's name ! see him twine his fingers
together, as he shrieks for his sister, — the twin of his
soul, — weeping for him in his distant native land ! See !
his arms are lifted to Heaven ! how wildly he prays for
mercy ! But fever rushes through his veins. The friend
beside him is weeping ! Awe-stricken, the dark men
112 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
move silently away, and leave the living and the
dying together!"
5. There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken
only by what seemed a smothered sob from some manly
bosom. The bride stood yet upright, with quivering lip,
and tears streaming down her pallid cheek. Her arm had
lost its extension ; and the glass, with its contents, came
slowly toward the range of her vision. She spoke again.
Every lip was mute ; her voice was low, faint, yet distinct.
Still she fixed her sorrowful glance upon the wine-cup.
" It is evening now : the great white moon is coming
up, and her beams fall gently on his forehead. He moves
not; his eyes are rolUng in their sockets, and dim are
the piercing glances, (jt?.) In vain his friend whispers the
name of father and sister. No soft hand and no gentle
voice bless and soothe him. His head sinks back ; one
convulsive shudder — he is dead!"
6. A groan ran through the assembly. So vivid was
her description, so unearthly her look, so inspired her man-
ner, that what she described seemed actually to have taken
place then and there. They noticed, also, that the bride-
groom had hid his face, and was weeping.
(j9^.) "Dead!" she repeated again, her lips quivering
faster, and her voice more broken, — "and there they
scoop him a grave ; and there, without a shroud, they lay
him down in the damp, reeking earth, — the only son of a
proud father, the idolized brother of a fond sister ; and he
sleeps to-day, in that distant country, with no stone to
mark the spot. There he lies, — my father s son, my own
twin-brother, — a victim of this deadly poison! Fptiier,"
she exclaimed, turning suddenly, while the tear^ rolled
down her beautiful cheeks, — "father, shall I drink the
poison now'?"
. UNION FIFTH EEADER. 113
7. The form of the judge was convulsed with agony.
He raised not his head ; but, in a smothered voice, he
faltered, — '' No, no, my child I — for Heaven's sake,
no!"
She lifted the ghttering goblet, and, letting it fall sud-
denly to the floor, it was dashed to pieces. Many a tear-
ful eye watched her movement, and instantaneously every
glass was transferred to the marble table. Then, as she
looked at the fragments of crystal, she turned to the com-
pany, saying, —
*' Let no friend hereafter, who loves me, tempt me to
peril my soul for wine, or any other poisonous venom.
Not firmer are the everlasting hills than my resolve, God
helping me, never to touch or taste the tei^rihle poison. And
hey to whom I have given my hand — who wat-ched over
my brother's dying form in that land of gold — will sustain
me in this resolve. Will you not, my husband? "
8. His glistening eyes, his sad, sweet smile, was his
answer. The judge had left the room ; but when he re-
turned, and, with a more subdued manner, took part in the
entertainment of the bridal guests, no one could fail to see
that hsy too, had determined to banish the enemy at once
and forever from that princely home.
Reader, this is no fiction. J was there and heard the
words, which I have penned, as nearly as I can recollect
them. This bride, her husband, and her brother who died
in the gold regions of California, v/ere schoolmates of mine.
Those who were present at that wedding of my associates
never forgot the impression so solemnly made, and all^ from
that hour, forsook the social glass,
8
114 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON XXYL
En thu'si asm, (from two Greek words, ex, in, or ■within; and theos, a
god;) signifies, literally, the state or condition of having a god within
us ; that is, being under the inspiration of a god : hence, strong mental
excitement ; ardent feeling.
DESOLATING EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE.
W. IRVING.
THE depopulating pestilence that walketli at noon-da j,
the carnage of cruel and devastating war, can scarcely
exhibit their victims in a more terrible array, than exter-
minating drunkenness. I have seen a promising family
spring from a parent trunk, and stretch abroad its popu-
lous limbs, like a flowering tree covered with green and
healthy foliage. I have seen the unnatural decay begin-
ning upon the yet tender leaf, and gnawing like a worm
in an unopened bud, while they dropped off, one by one,
and the scathed and ruined shaft stood desolate and alone,
until the winds and rains of many a sorrow laid that,
too, in the dust.
2. On one of those holy days when the patriarch, rich
in virtue as in years, gathered about him the great and the
little ones of the flock — his sons with their sons, and his
daughters with their daughters — I, too, sat at the festive
board. I, too, pledged them in the social wine-cup, and
rejoiced with them round the hospitable hearth, and ex-
patiated with delight upon the eventful future ; while the
good old man, warmed in the genial glow of youthful
enthusiasm,^ wiped the tear of joy from his glistening eye.
He was happy !
3. I met with them again when the rolling year brought
the festive season round. But they were not all there.
The kind old man sighed as his suffused eye dwelt upon
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 115
the then unoccupied seat. But joy yet came to his relief,
and he was happy. A parent's love knows no diminu-
tion, — time, distance, poverty, shame, but give intensity
and strength to that passion, before which all others dis-
solve and melt away.
4. Another elai)sed. The board was spread ; but the
gnests came not. The old man cried, — ''Where are my
childrenf'' And Echo answered, — '•'Wheref^ His heart
broke ; for they were not. Could not Heaven have spared
his gray hairs this affliction' ? Alas ! the demon of Drunk-
enness had been there ! They had fallen victims to his
spell. And one short month sufficed to cast the vail of
oblivion over the old man's sorrow, and the young men's
shame. — - They are all dead !
LESSON XXVII.
Ei/lo gt, (eu, well; logy, a speaking;) signifies a speaking well of, that
is, a speech in praise of some particular person or thing ; a laudatory
address. See Sanders' Analyzer, page 74.
EULOGY! ON COLD WATER.
PAUL DENTON.
The following eloquent speech was delivered by Paul Denton, a mission-
ary of the M. E. Church in Texas, at a barbecue camp-meeting, many years
ago. In a previous notice of the meeting, the preacher had announced that
preparations would be made to suit all tastes, — that there would be " a
splendid barbecue, better liquor, and the best of gospel." After partaking
of the repast, a voice was heard to exclaim, — "Paul Denton, wha'e is (he
liquor you promised us ? " To which he made the following reply : —
" fTlHERE," replied the speaker, pointing to a sparkling
JL fountain that bubbled up from the mountain's base,
" THERE is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews for
all his children ! Not in the simmering still, over smoking
116 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
fires, choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with
the stench of sickening odors and rank corruption, doth
your Father in Heaven prepare the precious essence of
hfe — Pure Cold Water !
2. " But in the green glades and grassy dell, where the
red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God
Himself brews it ; and down, low down in the deepest val-
leys, where the fountains murmur, and the rills sing ; and
high upon the mountain-tops, where the naked granite
glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm-cloud broods,
and the thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the
wide, wide sea, where the hurricane howls music, and
big waves roar the chorus, ' sweeping the march of God ! '
THERE He brews it, that beverage of life, health-giving
water !
3. " And everywhere it is a thing of beauty : gleaming
in the dew-drop ; singing in the summer-rain ; shining in
the ice-gem, till the trees seem turned to living jewels ;
spreading a golden vail over the setting sun, or a white
gauze around the midnight moon ; sporting in the cata-
ract ; sleeping in the glacier ; glancing in the hail-shower ;
folding bright snow-curtains softly above the wintery world,
and weaving the many-colored rainbow — that seraph's
zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain of earth, whose
woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checkered over with
celestial flowers by the mystic hand of refraction ; still
always it is beautiful^ that blessed cold ivater !
4. " No poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not
madness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass ; pale
widows and starving orphans weep not burning tears in its
clear depths ; no drunkard's shrieking ghost from the grave
curses it in words of despair ! But everywhere^ diffusing all
around life, vigor, and happiness, it is the purest emblem
UNION FIFTH READER. 117
of the Water of Life, of wliich, if a man drink, he shall
never thirst. Speak out, my friends ; would you excha7ige
it for the demon'' s drink, alcohol' f'' A shout, like the roar
of a tempest, answered, — " No ! "
LESSON XXVIII.
PROFANENESS.
E. H. CHAPIX.
PROFANENESS is a low, groveling vice. He who indul-
ges it is no gentleman. I care not what his stamp may
be in society, — I care not what clothes he wears, or what
culture he boasts, — despite all his refinement, the light
and habitual taking of God's name in vaiii betrays a coarse
nature and a brutal will.
2. Profaneness is an unmanly and silly vice. It certainly
is not a grace in conversation ; and it adds no strength to
it. There is no organic symmetry in the narrative which
is ingrained with oaths ; and the blasphemy which bolsters
an opinion does not make it any more correct. Nay, the
use of profane oaths argues a limited range of ideas, and a
consciousness of being on the wrong side ; and, if we can
find no other ])hrases through which to vent our choking
passian, we had better repress that passion.
3. Profaneness is a mean vice. It indicates the grossest
ingratitude. According to general estimation, he who re-
pays kindness Avitli contumely, he who abuses his friend
and benefactor, is deemed pitiful and wretched. And yet,
O profaYie one! Avhose name is it you handle so lightly ?
It is that of your best Benefactor ! You, whose blood
would boil to hear the venerable names of your earthly
118 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
parents hurled about in scoffs and jests, abuse, without
compunction and without thought, the name of your Heav-
enly Father !
4. Profaneness is an awful vice! Once more, I ask,
whose name is it you so lightly use ? That holy name of
God ! Have you ever pondered its meaning' ? Have you
ever thought what it is that you mingle thus with your
])assion and your wit' ? It is the name of Him whom
the angels worship, whom the Heaven of heavens can not
contain !
5. Profane young man ! though habit be ever so strin-
gent with you, when the word of mockery and of blas-
phemy is about to leap from your lips, think of these
considerations, think of God, and, instead of that wicked
oath, cry out in reverent prayer, — "Hallowed be Thy
Name!''
LESSON XXIX.
^ Sa' bi an, of or pertaining to Saba, an ancient town of Arabia, celebrated
for frankincense, myrrh, and aromatic plants.
VOICES OF GOD.
LON. BRIT. MAGAZINE.
1. rilHERE are voices of God for the careless ear, —
X A low-breathed whisper when none is near ;
111 the silent watch of the night's calm hours,
When the dews are at rest in the deep-sealed flowers ;
When the wings of the zephyr are folded up,
When the violet bendeth its azure cup ;
'Tis a breath of reproval — a murmuring tone,
Like music remembered, or ecstasies ixone.
UN J ON FIFTH HEADER. 119
2. 'Tis a voice that sweeps through the evening sky,
When the clouds o'er the pale moon are hurrying by ;
While the fickle gusts, as they come and go.
Wake the forest boughs on the mountain's brow ;
It speaks in the shadows that swiftly pass, —
In the waves that are roused from the lake's clear glass,
Where the summer shores, in their verdant pride,
Were pictured but late in the stainless tide.
3. And that voice breaks out in the tempest's flight.
When the wild winds sweep in their fearful might ;
When the hghtnings go forth on the hills to play.
As they pass on their pinions of fire away ;
While they fiercely smile through the dusky sky,
As the thunder-peals to their glance reply ;
As the bolts leap out from the somber cloud.
While midnight whirlwinds sing wild and loud 1
4. 'Tis a voice which comes in the early morn.
When the matin hymns of the birds are born ;
It steals from the fold of the painted cloud, —
From the forest draperies, sublime and proud !
Its tones are blent with the runtiing stream.
As it sweeps along, like a changeful dream.
In its light and shade, through the checkered vale,
While the uplands are fanned by the viewless gale.
5. In the twilight hour, when the weary bird
On its nest is sleeping, that voice is heard ;
While mist-robes are drawn o'er the green earth's breast^
And the sun hath gone down from the faded west ;
In the hush of that silence — when winds are still.
And the light wakes no smile in the babbling rill ;
Through the wonderful depths of the purple air,
O'er the landscape trembling — that voice is there-*
120 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
6. There are whispers of God in the cataract's roar, —
In the sea's rude wail on its sounding sliore, —
In the waves tliat melt on her azure isles,
Where the sunny south on their verdure smiles, —
In the ocean-ward wind from the orange trees,
In the Sabian^ odors that load the breeze ;
'Midst the incense that floats from Arabia's strand,
That tone is there, with its whispers bland I
7. And it saith to the cold and the careless heart,
How long wilt thou turn from " the better part " ?
I have called fi'om the infinite depths of heaven, —
I have called, — but no answer to me was given ;
From many a hallowed and glorious spot,
I have called by my Spirit, — and ye would not !
Thou art far from the haven, and tempest-tossed, —
Hear the cry of thy Pilot ^ or thou art lost!
LESSON XXX
BETTER THAN GOLD.
1. "HETTER than grandeur, better than gold,
\ I Than rank and titles, a thousand fold.
Is a healthy hody^ a mind at ease,
And simple pleasures that always please ; —
A heart that can feel for another's woe.
And share his joys with a genial glow,
AYith sympathies large enough to infold
All men as brothers, is better than gold.
UNION FIFTH RE A DEB. 121
2. Better than gold is a conscience clear^
Though toilmg for bread in a humble sphere ;
Doubly blessed with content and health,
Untried by the lusts or cares of wealth ;
Lowly living and lofty thought
Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot ;
For mind and morals, in Nature's plan,
Are the genuine test of a gentleman.
3. Better than gold is the sweet repose
Of the sons of toil when their labors close ;
Better than gold is a poor man's sleep,
And the balm that drops on his slumber deep.
Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed
Where Luxury pillows his aching head ;
His simple opiate labor deems
A shorter road to the land of dreams.
4. Better than gold is a thinJdng mind.
That, in the realm of books, can find
A treasure surpassing Australian ore,
And live with the great and good of yore.
The sage's lore, and the poet's lay,
The glories of empires passed away.
The world's great drama, will thus unfold.
And yield a pleasure better than gold.
5. Better than gold is a peaceful home.
Where all the fireside charities come, —
The shrine of love, the heaven of life.
Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife.
However humble the home may be.
Or tried with sorrow by Heaven's decree,
The blessings that never were bought or sold.
And center there, are better than gold.
122 SANDEliS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON XXXI.
THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES: An Allegory.
HANNAH F. GOULD.
*' A LAS ! alas ! " said the sorrowing Tree, " my beautiful
J\. robe is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded
pieces whirl upon the wind ; they rustle beneath the squir-
rel's foot, as he searches for his nut. They float upon the
passing stream, and on the quivering lake. Woe is me !
for my fair, green vesture is gone. It was the gift of the
Angel of the Leaves ! I have lost it, and my glory has
vanished ; my beauty has disappeared. My summer hours
have passed away. My bright and comely garment, alas I
it is rent in a thousand parts.
2. " Who will weave me such another ? Piece by piece,
it has been stripped from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the
loss of one, ere another wandered off* on the air. The
sound of music cheers me no more. The birds that sang
in my bosom were dismayed at my desolation. They
have flown away with their songs.
3. " I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe
with his smile. The zephyrs breathed softly through its
glossy folds ; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My
shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far
on the gentle air ; my head was lifted high ; my fore-
head was fair to the heavens. But now, how changed !
Sadness is upon me ; my head is shorn, my arms are
stripped ; I can not now throw a shadow on the ground.
Beauty has departed ; gladness is gone out of my bosom ;
the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into the
earth.
4. " I am thirsty; I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in
the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them.
UNION FIFTH READER. 123
The winter is coming ; I am destitute. SorroAv is my por-
tion. Mourning must wear me away. How shall I ac-
count to the Angel who clothed me, for the loss of his
beautiful gift?"
5. The Angel had been hstening. In soothing accents he
answered the lamentation. '' My beloved Tree," said he,
" be comforted. I am with thee still, though every leaf
has forsaken thee. The voice of gladness is hushed among
thy boughs ; but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow
is but for a season. Trust in me ; keep my promise in thy
heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I
leave with thee abide and cheer thee through the coming
winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew.
6. " The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift
through thy naked limbs. But these Avill be light and
passing afflictions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy help-
less arms ; but it shall soon dissolve into tears." It shall pass
into the ground, and be drunken by thy roots. Then it
will creep up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread
into the branches it has oppressed, and help me to adorn
them ; for I shall be here to use it.
7. " Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The
frost would chill and destroy it. Earth will not rob her
offspring. She is a careful parent. She knows the wants
of all her children, and forgets not to provide for the least
of them.
8. *' The sap, that has for a while gone down, will make
thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then re^
turn to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strength-
ened. Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in
my promise, I will fulfill it. Buds shall shoot forth on
every side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another
robe. I will paint it and f)t it in every ]:)art. It shall be a
124 SANDERS' UKION SERIES.
comely raiment. Thou shalt forget thy present sorrow.
Sadness shall be swallowed up in joy. Now, my beloved
Tree, fare thee well for a season ! "
9. The Angel was gone. The muttering winter drew
near. The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm
came and howled around the Tree. But the word of the
Angel was hidden in her heart ; it soothed her amid the
threatenings of the tempest. The ice-cakes rattled upon
her limbs ; they loaded and weighed them down.
10. " My slender branches," said she, " let not this bur-
den overcome you. Break not beneath this heavy afflic-
tion ; break not, but bend, till you can spring back to your
places. Let not a twig of you be lost. Hope must prop
you for a while, and the Angel will reward your patience.
You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall be again in
your motion, and beauty hang around you."
11. The scowling face of winter began to lose its feat-
ures. The raging storm grew faint, and breathed its last.
The restless clouds fretted themselves to atoms ; they scat-
tered upon. the sky, and were brushed away. The sun
threw down" a bundle of golden arrows. They fell upon
the tree ; the ice-cakes glittered as they came. Every one
was shattered by a shaft, and unlocked itself upon the limb.
They were melted and gone.
12. The reign of Spring had come. Her blessed min-
isters were abroad in the earth ; they hovered in the air ;
they blended their beautiftil tints, and cast a new-created
glory on the face of the heavens.
13. The Tree was rewarded for her trust. The Angel
was true to the object of his love. He returned ; he be-
stowed on her another robe. It was bright, glossy, and
unsullied. The dust of summer had never lit upon it;
the scorching heat had not faded it ; the moth had not pro-
faned it.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 125
14. The Tree stood again in lov^eliness ; she was dressed
in more than her former beauty ; she was very fair ; joy
smiled around her on every side. The birds flew back to
her bosom. They sang on every branch a hymn to the
Angel of the Leaves.
LESSON XXXII.
THE WORLD OF CHANCE.
JOHN TODD.
AT the foot of a noble mountain in Asia stood a beanlK
ful cottage. Around it were walks, and shades, and
fruits, such as were nowhere else to be found. The sun
shone upon no spot more beautiful or luxuriant. It was
the home of Hafed, the aged and prosperous. He reared
the cottage ; he adorned the spot ; and here, for more than
fourscore years, he had lived and studied.
2. During all this time, the sun had never forgotten to
visit him daily; the harvest had never failed, the pestilence
had never destroyed, and the mountain stream had never
dried up. The wife of his youth still lived to cheer him ;
and his son and daughter were such as were not to be found
in all that province.
3. But who can insure earthly happiness ? In one short
week, Hafed was stripped of all his joys. His wife took
cold, and a quick fever followed ; and Hafed saw that she
must die. His son and daughter both returned from the
burial of their mother, fatigued and sick. The nurse gave
them, as she thought, a simple medicine. In a few hours,
it was found to be poison. Hafed saw that they must die;
for the laws of nature are fixed, and poison kills.
4. He buried them in one wide, deep grave ; and it
126 SANDEES' UNION SEEIES.
seemed as if in that grave lie buried liis reason and re-
ligion. He tore liis gray hair ; he cursed the light of day,
and wished tlie moon turned into blood. He arraigned the
wisdom of God in His government over this Avorld, declar-
ing tliat the laws which He had established were all wrong,
useless, and worse than none. He wished the world were
governed by Chance^ or, at least, that, at his death, he
might go to a world where there was no God to fix unal-
terable laws.
5. In the center of Hafed's garden stood a beautiful
palm-tree. Under this Hafed was sitting, the second even-
ing after he had closed tiie grave over his children. Before
him lay the beautiful country, and above him the glorious
lieavens, and the bright moon just pushing up her modest
face. But Hafed looked upon all this, and grief swelled
in his throat ; his tongue murmured ; his heart was full of
blasphemous thoughts of God.
6. As the night deepened, Hafed, as he thought, fell
asleep with a heavy heart. When he supposed he awoke,
it was in a new spot. All around him was new. As he
stood wondering where he was, he saw a creature approach
him, which appeared like a baboon ; but, on its coming
nearer, he saw that it Avas a creature somewhat resembling
a man, but every way ill-shaped and monstrous.
7. He came up, and walked around Hafed, as if he
were a superior being, exclaiming, — " Beautiful, beautiful
creature ! " " Shame, shame on thee! " said Hafed ; " dost
thou treat a stranger thus with insults ? Leave off thy
jests, and tell me where I am, and how I came here ! '^
'' I do not know how you came here ; but liere you are, in
our world, which we call Chance World, because every
thing happens here by chance."
8. " Ah ! is it so ? This must be delightful ! This is
UNION FIFTH READER. 127
just the world for me. Oh, had I always lived here, my
beautiful children would not have died under a foolish and
inex'orable law ! Come, show me this world ; for I long to
see it. But have ye really no God, nor any one to make
laws and govern you as he sees fit' ?"
9. " I do not know what you mean by the word God.
We have nothing of that kind here, — nothing but chance.
But go with me, and you will understand all about it. *
As they proceeded, Hafed noticed that every thing looked
queer and odd. Some of the grass was green, some red,
some white, some new, and some dying; some grew with
the top downward ; all kinds were mingled together ; and,
on the whole, the sight was very painful.
10. He stopped to examine an orchard : here Chance
had been at work. On a fine-looking apple-tree he saw
210 fruit but large, coarse cucumbers. A small peach-tree
was breaking dow« under its load of gourds. Some of the
trees were growing with their tops downward, and the
roots branching out into the air. Here and there were
great holes dug, by which somebody had tried to get down
twenty or thirty feet, in order to get the fruit.
11. The guide told Hafed that there was no certainty
about these trees, and that you could never tell what fruit
a tree would happen to bear. The tree which this year
bears cucumbers, may bear potatoes next year, and per-
haps you would have to dig twenty feet for every potato
you obtained.
12. They soon met another of the " chance men.'* Hi?
legs were very linequal in length : one had no knee, and
the other no ankle. His ears were set upon his shoulders,
and around his head was a thick, black bandage. He
came groping his way, and Hafed asked him how long
since he had lost his sight.
128 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
13. "I have not lost it," said he; "but when I was
bom, my eyeballs happened to turn in instead o^ out; and
the back parts, being outward, are very painful in the
light, and so I put on a covering. Yet I am as well off as
others. My brother has one good eye on tlie top of his
head; but it looks directly upward, and the sun almost
puts it out."
14. They stopped to look at some " chance cattle " in a
yard. Some had but three legs ; some were covered with
wool, under which they were sweltering in a climate
always tropical. Some were half horse and half ox.
Cows had young camels following them instead of calves.
Young elephants were there with flocks of sheep, horses
with claws like a lion, and geese clamping round the yard
with hoofs like horses. It was all a work of Chance,
15. " This," said the guide, '• is a choice collection of
cattle. You never saw the like before." " That is true —
truth itself," cried Hafed. "Ah ! but the owner has been
at great pains and expense to collect them. I do not be-
lieve there is another such collection anywhere in all this
< Chance World.' " " I hope not," said' Hafed. <
LESSON XXXIII.
THE WORLD OF CHANCE.
(continued.)
JUST as they were leaving the premises, the owner came
out to admire, and show, and talk over his treasures.
He wanted to gaze at Hafed ; but his head happened to be
near the ground, between his feet, so that he had to mount
upon a wall before he could get a fair view of the stranger.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 129
" Do not think I am a happy man," said he, " in having so
many and such perfect animals. Alas ! even in this per-
fect and happy world, there are always drawbacks. That
fine-looking cow yonder happens to give nothing but warm
water, instead of milk ; and her calf, poor thing ! died
before it was a week old.
2. " Some of them are stone blind, some can not live in
the light, and few of them can hear. No two of them eat
the same food, and it is a great labor to take care of them.
I sometimes feel as if I would almost as lief be a pooi
man." " I think I should rather," said Hafed.
3. While they were talking, in an instant they were in
midnight darkness. The sun was gone, and Hafed could
not, for some time, see his guide. " What has happened P^^
said he. " Oh, nothing uncommon," said the guide. " The
sun happened to go down now. There is no regular time
for him to shine ; but he goes and comes just as it happens,
and leaves us suddenly, as you see."
4. " As I don't see," said Hafed ; " but I hope he will
come back at the appointed time, at any rate." " That,
sir, will be just as it happens. Sometimes he is gone for
months, and sometimes for weeks, and sometimes only for
a few minutes, just as it happens. We may not see him
again for months, but perhaps he will come soon."
5. As the guide was proceeding, to the inexpressible joy
of all, the sun at once broke out. The light was so sud-
den, that Hafed at first thought he must be struck with
lightning, and actually put his hands to his eyes to see if
they were safe. He then clapped his hands to his eyes
till he could gradually bear the light. There was a splen-
dor about the sun, which he had never before seen ; and it
was intolerably hot. The air seemed like a furnace.
6. "Ah," said the owner of the cattle, "we must now
9
130 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES.
scorch for it ! My poor wool ox must die at once ! Bad
luck, bad luck to us ! The sun has come back nearer than
he was before. But we hope he will happen to go away
again soon, and then happen to come back farther off tlie
next time."
7. The sun was now pouring down his heat so intensely,
that they were glad to go into the house for shelter, — a
miserable-looking place indeed. Hafed could not but com-
pare it with his own beautiful cottage. Some timbers were
rotten ; for the tree was not, as it happened, the same in
all its i)arts. Some of the boards happened to be like
paper, and the nails torn out ; and these were loose and
comino; off.
8. They invited Hafed to eat. On sitting down at the
table, he noticed that each one had a different kind of food,
and that no two could eat out of the same dish. He was
told that it so happened, that the food which one could eat,
was poison to another ; and what was agreeable to one, was
nauseatino; to another.
9. "I suppose that to be coffee," said Hafed, " and I
will thank you for a cup." It Avas handed him. He had
been troubled with the toothache for some hours ; and how
did he quail, when, on filling his mouth, he found it was
ice, in little pieces about as large as pigeon-shot I
10. " Do you call ice-water coffee here?" said Hafed,
pressing his hand upon his cheek, while his tooth was
dancing with pain. " That is just as it happens. We put
water over the fire, and sometimes it heats it, and some-
times it freezes it. It is all chance work."
11. Hafed rose from the table in anguish of spirit. He
remembered the world where he had lived, and all that
was past. He had desired to live in a world where there
was no God, where all was governed by chance. Here
he was, and here he must live.
UNION FIFTH READER. 131
12. He threw himself on a bed, and recalled the past,
— the beautiful world where he had once lived ; his in-
gratitude ; his murmurings against the wisdom and good-
ness of God. He wept like infancy. He would have
prayed, and even began a prayer : but then he recollected
that there was no God here ; nothing to direct events ;
nothing but chance. He shed many and bitter tears of
repentance. At last he wept himself asleep.
13. When Hafed again awoke, he was sitting under his
palm-tree in his own beautiful garden. It was morning.
At the appointed moment, the glorious sun rose up in the
east ; the fields were all green and fresh ; the trees were
all right end upward, and covered with blossoms ; and the
sonorsters were utterino; their mornino; soncrs.
14. Hafed arose, recalled tliat ugly dream, and then
wept for joy. Was he again in a world where Chance
does not reign ? He looked up, and then turned to the
God of heaven, the God of laws and of order, and gave
Him the glory, and confessed that His ways, to us un-
searchable, are full of wisdom. He was a new man ever
afterward ; nothing gave him greater cause of gratitude, as
he daily knelt in prayer, than the fact that he lived in a
world where God ruled, and ruled by laws fixed, wise, and
merciful.
LESSOISr XXXIY.
* Ve' nus is the second planet in order from the Sun, its orbit lying between
that of Mercury and that of the Earth, at a mean distance from the
Sun of about 66,000,000 miles. Its diameter is 7,500 miles, and its
period of revolution round the sun is nearly 225 days. As the morn-
ing-star, it was called, by the ancients, Lmifer ; as the evening-star,
Hesperuis.
3 Mars is the fourth planet in order from the Sun, or the next beyond the
132 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Earth, having a diameter of about 4,300 miles, a period of 687 days,
and a mean distance of 139,000,000 miles. It is conspicuous for the
redness of its light.
NO GOD.
N. K. RICHARDSON.
" The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." *
'I
S there no God' ? The white rose made reply, —
" My ermine robe was woven in the sky;"
The blue-bird warbled from his shady bower, —
" My plumage fell from Hands that made the fiowef ."
2. Is there no God' ? The silvery ocean spray,
. At the vile question, startles in dismay;
And, tossing mad against earth's impious clod.
Impatient thunders, — " Yes, there is a God ! "
3. Is there no God' ? The dying Christian's hand,
Pale with disease, points to a better land ;
And, ere his body mingles with the sod,
(jo.) He, sweetly smiHng, faintly murmurs, — " God."
4. " We publish God 1" the towering mountains cry
"Jehovah's name is blazoned on the sky 1"
The dancing streamlet and the golden grain.
The lightning gleam, the thunder and the rain;- «
6. The dew-drop diamond on the lily's breast,
The tender leaf by every breeze caressed ;
The shell whose pearly bosom ocean laves,
And sea- weed bowing to a troop of waves ; —
* Psalms, 14th, 1st verse, and 53d, 1st verse.
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 133
6. The glow of Venus ^ and the glare of Mars,^
The tranquil beauty of the lesser stars ;
The eagle soaring in majestic flight,
The morning bursting from the clouds of night ; —
7. The child's fond prattle and the mother's prayer,
Angelic voices floating in the air, —
Mind, heart, and soul, the ever-restless breath,
And all the myriad mysteries of death.
8. Beware, ye doubting, disbelieving throng.
Whose sole ambition is to favor wrong ;
There is a God ; remember while ye can,
" His Spirit will not always strive with man.''
LESSON XXXY.
THE PRESENCE OF GOD.
AMELIA B. WELBY.
OTHOU, who fling' st so fair a robe
Of clouds around the hills untrod, —
Those mountain-pillars of the globe.
Whose peaks sustain Thy throne, O God !
All glittering round the sunset skies,
Their trembling folds are lightly furled.
As if to shade from mortal eyes
The glories of yon upper world ;
There, while the evening star upholds
In one bright spot their purple folds,
My spirit lifts its silent prayer,
For Thou, the God of love, art there.
134 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES.
2. The summer flowers, the fair, the sweet,
Upspringing freely from the sod.
In whose soft looks we seem to meet,
At every step. Thy smiles, O God !
The humblest soul their sweetness shares ;
They bloom in palace-hall, or cot :
Give me, O Lord ! a heart hke theirs,
Contented with my lowly lot.
Within their pure ambrosial bells,
In odors sweet, Thy Spirit dwells :
Their breath may seem to scent the air ;
'Tis Thine, O God ! for Thou art there.
3. The birds among the summer-blooms
Pour forth to Thee their strains of love,
When, trembling on uplifted plumes.
They leave the earth and soar above.
We hear their sweet familiar airs
Where'er a sunny spot is found :
How lovely is a life like theirs,
Diffusincr sweetness all around !
From clime to clime, from pole to pole,
Their sweetest anthems softly roll.
Till, melting on the realms of air,
Thy still small voice seems whispering there -
4. The stars, those floating isles of light,
Round which the clouds unfurl their sails.
Pure as a woman's robe of white
That trembles round the form it vails, —
They touch the heart as with a spell ;
Yet, set the soaring fancy free,
UNION FIFTH READER. 135
And oh, how sweet the tales they tell I —
They tell of peace, of love, and Thee !
Each raging storm that wildly blows,
Each balmy gale that lifts the rose,
Sublimely grand, or softly fair,
They speak of Thee, for Thou art there.
6. The spirit oft oppressed with doubt,
May strive to cast Thee from its thought ;
But who can shut Thy presence out,
Thou mighty Guest, that com'st unsought ?
In spite of all our cold resolves,
Whate'er our thoughts, where'er we be,
Still magnet-hke the heart revolves.
And points, all trembling, up to Thee.
We can not shield a troubled breast
Beneath the confines of the blest,
Above, below, on earth, in air ;
For Thou, the living God, art there.
6. Yet, far beyond the clouds outspread.
Where soaring fancy oft hath been,
There is a land where Thou hast said
The pure of heart shall enter in.
In those fair realms so calmlv brijiht.
How many a loved and gentle one
Bathes its soft plumes in livino- lio-ht
That sparkles from Thy radiant throne !
There souls once soft and sad as ours,
Look up and sing 'mid fadeless flowers :
They dream no more of grief and care ;
For Thou, the God of peace, art there.
136 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
LESSON :k:^:^yl
INTEGRITY.
D. S. DICKINSON.
THERE is yet another rule for the guidance of the young
business-men, more important tlian any to which I have
adverted, and without which the subtle deductions of polit-
ical economy ahd the ornate science of commercial law
would be useless. It is not defined by the chapters of
statutes, nor divided into sections ; nor has it grown up
with the progress of civilization, to suit the demands of
society, or answer the exigencies of trade ; but it is coeval
with human existence, and is w ritten upon the tablet of
every heart.
2. It comprises a code of exquisite completeness for man's
moral government, and points the pathway for his footsteps,
which, carefully pursued, will place length of days in his
right hand ; and in his left, riches and honor : and it
admonishes with startling significance of the terrible pen-
alties which await those who disobey or seek to evade its
mandates.. This law is as unalterable as the renowned
Medes and Persians* fancied were their far-famed edicts.
" It lives through all time,
Extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided,
Operates unspent."
3. It is not taught in the schools, nor is study requisite
to its possession ; but the young and the old, the ignorant
and the learned, the rich and the poor, the lofty and the low,
* Daniel, vi. chap. 8 verse.
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 137
understand it alike, by that spark of divinity which electrifies
the soul, and gives the conscience intuition. It is Integri-
ty, — integrity, including all the cardinal and social virtues
which form a code for the moral government of man. It
is a capital which never depreciates with fluctuations, is
never at a discount, but is a sure rehance in every vicissi-
tude and trial. It points to honorable success in .life's
pilgrimage with unerring certainty ; and is both sword and
shield to him who would wage, with the true heart of man-
hood, the great battle of life.
4. What though the tempests howl, the storms beat, the
lightnings flash, the thunders roar, and the angry ocean
cast up its mire and dirt : he who holds fast to his integrity
will outride the danger, and may laugh at the fury of the
elements. His bow of promise will arch itself up again
in the lieavens, more beautiful than ever, as a living wit-
ness that truth can never die. The slaves of vice, and
the votaries of indolence and fraud, may flourish for a sea-
son ; but they perish by a law of being as fixed and certain
as the power of gravitation ; and, when they have closed
their ignoble existence, the devotees of truth will rise above
their ruin, like the flowers of spring upon the bleak deso-
lations of winter.
6. Go forth, then, young man, into this broad field of
labor, and hope, and reward, and peril ! Be temperate,
industrious, frugal, and self-reliant ; and whenever tempta-
tions shall cross your pathway and seek to allure you,
pause and reflect, — remember this time and occasion, your
associates and him who addresses you ; and remember, too,
and repeat this one word which I give you, as a talisman
or charm to shield and protect you from all evil, and bear
you through life's journey in safety; and that word is —
Integrity 1
138 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSOX XXXVII.
1 Trans fig' ure (from trans, implying change, and figure, a form or
sJuipe) is to change the form or ligure; to transform.
* The Southern Cross is a brilliant little constellation, consisting of
four principal stars ; too far south, however, to be seen by us in these
northern regions.
* The Polar StXr is a star of the second magnitude, forming the ex-
tremity of Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear.
THE VISIBLE AND THE INVISIBLE.
ephraim peabody. .
HERE is a whaling vessel in the harbor, her anchors
up,' and her sails unfurled. The last boat has left her,
and she is now departing on a voyage of three, and perhaps
four years in length. All that the eye sees is that she. is a
fine ship, and that it has cost much labor to fit her out.
Those on board will spend years of toil, and will then re-
turn, while the profits of the voyage will be distributed, as
the case may be, to be squandered, or to be added to already
existing hoards. So much appears. But there is an un-
published history y which, could it be revealed, and brought
vividly before the mind, would transfigure^ her, and en-
shrine her in an almost awful light.
2. There is not a stick of timber in her whole frame, not
a piank or a rope, which is not, in some mysterious way,
enveloped with human interests and sympathies. Let us
trace this part of her history, while she circles the globe,
and returns to the harbor from which she sailed. At the
outset, the labor of the merchant, the carpenter, and of all
employed on her, has not been mere sordid labor. The
thought of their homes, of their children, and of what this
labor may secure for them, has been in their hearts.
3. And they who sail in her, leave behind homes, wives,
UNION FIFTH EEABEK. 139
children, parents ; and, years before they return, those who
are dearest to them, may be in their tombs. What bitter
partings, as if by the grave's brink, are those which take
place when the signal to unmoor calls them on board !
There are among them young men, married, perhaps, but
a few weeks before, and those of maturer years, whose
young children cleave to their hearts as they go.
4. How deeply, as the good ship sails out into the open
sea, is she freighted with memories and affections ! Every
eye is turned toward the receding coast, as if the pangs of
another farewell were to be endured. Fade slowly, shores
that encircle their homes ! Shine brightly, ye skies, over
those dear ones whom they leave behind !
5. They round the capes of continents, they traverse
every zone, their keel crosses every sea ; but still, brighter
than the Southern Cross ^ or the Polar Star,^ shines on
their souls the light of their distant home. In the calm
moon-light rise before 'the mariner the forms of those
whom he loves ; in the pauses of the gale, he hears the
voices of his children. Beat upon by the tempest, worn
down with labor, he endures all. Welcome care and toil,
if these may bring peace and happiness to those dear ones
who meet around his distant fireside !
6. And the thoughts of those in that home, compassing
the globe, follow him wherever he goes. Their prayers
blend with all the winds which swell his sails. Their affec-
tions hover over his dreams. Children count the months
and the days of a father's absence. The babe learns to
love him, and to lisp his name. Not a midnight storm
strikes their dwelling, but the wife starts from her sleep, as
if she heard, in the wailing of the wind, the sad forebodings
of danger and wreck. Not a soft wind blows, but comes
to her heart as a gentle messenger from the distant seas.
140 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
7. And, after years of absence, they approach their na-
tive shores. As the day closes, they can see the summits of
the distant highlands, hanging like stationary clouds on the
horizon. And long before the night is over, their sleepless
eyes catch the light, glancing across the rim of the seas,
from the light-house at the entrance of the bay. With
the morning they are moored in the harbor.
8. The newspapers announce her arrival. But here,
again, how little of her caro^o is of that material kind which
can be reckoned in dollars and cents ! She is freighted
with human hearts, with anxieties, and hopes, and fears.
There are many there who have not dared to ask the pilot
of home. The souls of many, which yesterday were full
of joy, are now overshadowed with anxiety. They almost
hesitate to leave the ship, and pause for some one from
the shore to answer those questions of home, and of those
they love, which they dare not utter. There are many
jo^^ful meetings, and some that are full of sorrow.
9. Let us follow one of this crew. He is still a youth*
Years ago, of a wild and reckless and roving spirit, he
left his home. He had fallen into temptations which had
been too strong for his feeble virtue. His feet had been
familiar with the paths of sin and shame. But, during the
present voyage, sickness and reflection have " brought him
to himself." Full of remorse for evil courses, and for that
parental love which he has slighted, he has said, — " I will
arise and go to my fathers house ; " they who gave me
birth, shall no longer mourn over me as lost. I will smooth
the pathway of age to them, and be the support of their
feeble steps.
10. He is on his way to where they dwell in the country.
As the sun is setting, he can see, from an eminence over
which the road passes, their sohtary home on a distant hill-
tJNION FIFTH READER. 141
side. O scene of beauty, such as, to him, no other land
can show ! Tliere is the church, here a school-house, and
the homes of those whom he knew in childhood. He can
see the places where he used to watch the golden sunset,
not, as now, with a heari full of penitence, and fear, and
sorrow for wasted years, but in the innocent days of youth.
There are the pastures and the woods where he wandered,
full of the dreams and hopes of childhood, — fond hopes
and dreams that have issued in such sad reahties.
11. The scene to others would be but an ordinary one ;
but, to Jiim^ the spirit gives it life. It is covered all over
with the golden hues of memory. His heart leaps forward
to his home ; but his feet linger. May not death have be6n
there' ? May not those lips be hushed in the silence of the
grave from which he hoped to hear the words of love and
forgiveness'? He pauses on the way, and does not ap-
proach till he beholds a light shining through the uncur-
tained windows of the humble dwellino;. And even now
his hand is drawn back, which was raised to lift the latch.
He would see if all are there. With a trembling heart, he
looks into the window; and there — blessed sight! — he
beholds his mother, busy as was her wont, and his father,
only grown more reverend with increasing age, reading
that holy book which he had tau£2:ht his son to revere, but
which that son had so foro-otten !
12. But there were others ; and, lo ! one by one they en-
ter, — young sisters, who, when he last saw them, were but
children that sat on the knee, but have now grown up
almost to womanly years. And now another fear seizes
him. How shall they receive him ? May not he be for-
gotten^? May they not reject him'? But he will, at
least, enter. He raises the latch ; — with a heart too full
for utterance, he stands, silent and timid, in the doorway.
142 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
The father raises his head, the mother pauses and turns to
look at the guest who enters. It is but a moment, when
burst from their hps the fond words of recognition, —
^' My son ! my son ! "
13. Blessed words, which have told, so fully that nothing
remains to be told, the undying' strength of parental love !
To a traveler who might that night have passed this cottage
among the hills, if he had observed it at all, it would have
spoken of nothing but daily toil, of decent comfort, of ob-
scure fortunes. Yet, at that very hour, it was filled with
thanksgivings, which rose like incense to the heavens, be-
cause that " he who w^as lost was found, and he that was
dead was alive afjain."
14. Thus ever under the visible is the invisible. Through
dead material forms circulate the currents of spiritual life.
Desert rocks, and seas, and shores, are humanized by the
presence of man, and become alive with memories and affec-
tions. There is a life which appears^ and under it, in every
heart, is a life which does not appear, which is to the former
as the depths of the sea to the waves, and the bubbles, and
the spray on its surface. There is not an obscure house
among the mountains, v/here the v/hole romance of life,
from its dawn to its setting, through its brightness and
through its gloom, is not lived through.
15. The commonest events of the day are products of
the same passions and affections, Avhich, in other spheres,
decide the fate of kingdoms. Outwardly, the ongoings of
ordinary life are like the movements of machinery, lifeless,
mechanical, commonplace repetitions- of the came trifling
events. But they arc neither lifeless, nor old, nor trifling*
The passions and afxections make them ever new and orig-
inal, and the most unimportant acts of the day reach for-
ward, in their results, into the shadows of eternity.
UNION FIFTH READER. 143
LESSOJSr XXXYIII.
* Lu' NA CY, a species of insanity or madness ; properly, the kind of insani-
ty which is broken by intervals of reason, formerly supposed to hava
been influenced by the moon, (luna,) from which lunacy is derived.
WHEN I AM OLD.
CAROLINE A. BRIGGS.
1. ' ^TTHEN I am old, (and, oh ! how soon
f f Will life's sweet morning yield to noon.
And noon's broad, fervid, earnest light
Be shaded in the solemn night,
Till, like a story well-nigh told,
Will seem my life when I am old !)
2. When I am old, this breezy earth
Will lose for me its voice of mirth ;
The streams will have an undertone
Of sadness not by right their own ;
And Spring's sweet power in vain unfold
In rosy charms, — when I am old.
3. When I am old, I shall not care
To deck with flowers my faded hair ;
'Twill be no vain desire of mine
In rich and costly dress to shine ;
Bright jewels and the brightest gold
Will charm me naught, — when I am old.
4. When I am old," my friends will be
Old and infirm ^nd bowed like me ;
Or else (their bodies 'neath the sod.
Their spirits dwelling safe with God)
The old church-bell will long have tolled
Above the rest, — when I am old.
144 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
5. Wlien I am old, I'd rather bend
Thus sadly o'er each buried friend
Than see them lose the earnest truth
That marks the friendship of our youth :
'Twill be so sad to have them cold
Or strange to me, — when I am old !
6. When I am old, — oh ! how it seems
Like the wild lunacy^ of dreams
To picture in prophetic rhyme
That dim, far-distant, shadowy time, —
So distant that it seems o'er-bold
Even to sot/, — " When I am old ! "
7. When I am old ? — Perhaps ere then
I shall be missed from haunts of men ;
Perhaps my dwelling will be found
Beneath the green and quiet mound ;
My name by stranger hands enrolled
Among the dead, — ere I am old.
8. ^re lam old? — That time is now ;
For youth sits lightly on my brow ;
My limbs are firm, and strong, and free ;
Life hath a thousand charms for me, —
Charms that will loner their influence hold
Within my heart, — ere I am old.
9. Ere I am old^ oh ! let me give
My life to learning how to live :
Then shall I meet, with willing heart,
An early summons to depart.
Or find my lengthened days consoled
By God's sweet peace, — when I am old.
UNION FIFTH READEB. 145
LESSON XXXIX.
^ Frank'' LIN, Benjamix, was bom in Boston, Mass., Jan. 6, 1706; and
died in Philadelphia, April 17, 1790. His name has long been a house-
hold word in America. He was her moralist, statesman, and philoso-
pher. His discovery of the identity of lightning with electricity has
obtained for him a lasting and world -renowned reputation.
A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW.
THOMAS HOOD.
1. A WHEN I was a tiny boy,
\J, My days and nights were full of joy.
My mates were blithe and kind !
No wonder that I sometimes sigh,
And dash the tear-drop from my eye,
To cast a look behind !
2. A hoop was an eternal round
Of pleasure. In those days I found
A top a joyous thing ;
But now those past delights I drop ;
My head, alas ! is all my top.
And careful thoughts the strino; !
3. My kite, how fast and far it flew !
While I, a sort of Franklin,^ drew
My pleasure from the sky !
'Twas papered o'er with studious themes,
The tasks I wrote, — my present dreams
Will never soar so high !
4. My joys are wingless all, and dead ;
My dumps are made of more than lead ;
My flights soon find a fall ;
7
146 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
My fears prevail ; my fancies droop ;
Joy never cometh Avith a hoop,
And seldom with a call !
6. My football's laid upon the shelf;
I am a shuttlecock myself,
The world knocks to and fro ;
My archery is all unlearned.
And grief against myself has turned
My arrows and my bow !
6. No more in noontide sun I bask ;
My authorship's an endless task ;
My head's ne'er out of school ;
Mv heart is pained with scorn and sliglit ;
I have too luany foes to fight.
And friends grow strangely cool I
7. No skies so blue or so serene
As then ; no leaves look half so green.
As clothed the play-ground tree :
All things I loved are altered so ;
Nor does it ease my heart to know
That change resides in me !
8. O for the garb that marked the boy,
The trousers made of corduroy.
Well inked with black and red ;
The crownless hat, ne'er deemed an illj —
It only let the sunshine still
Repose upon my head !
9. O for the lessons learned by heart !
Ay, though the very birch's smart
Should mark those hours again, ,
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 14?
I'd " kiss the rod," and be resigned
Beneath the stroke, and even find
Some sugar in the cane I
10. When that I was a tiny boy,
My (lays and nights. Avere full of jo}^,
My mates were blithe and kind !
No wonder that I sometimes sigli.
And dash the tear-drop from my eye,
To cast a look behind !
LESSON" XL.
'Top'- GAL LANT, situated above tho top-mast, and below the royal-mast,
being the third of the kind in order from the deck.
2 Cross'- TREE, a piece of timber, supported by the trestle-trees at the upper
end of the lower masts, to sustain the frame of the top, and on the top-
masts to extend the top-gallant shrouds.
^ Ka nack' a, a native of the Sandwich Islands.
* Lee' ward, that part toward which the wind blows.
^ Kat' lines, small lines traversing the shrouds of a ship, making the steps
of a ladder for ascending to the mast-head.
^ Main' yard, the yard on which the mainsail is extended, supported by tho
mainmast.
^ Back'- STAYS, long ropes or stays extending from the top-mastheads to
both sides of a ship, to assist the shrouds in supporting the masts.
^ Star' board, being or lying on the right side.
•* Log' ger head, a piece of round timber, in a whale-boat, over which thii
Una is passed, to make it run more slowly.
TAKING A WHALE.
n. starbuck.
EARLY one morning, while we were cruising off th(5
coast of Peru for sperm-whales, I was dozing on
the main-top-gallant ^ cross-trees.^ Suddenly something
seemed to ring through my brain. I awoke to discover
148 SANDEBS' UKIOK SERIES.
tliat it Avas the wild voice of Zadik, the captain's har-
pooner, a tall, swarthy, straight-haired youth, half Ka-
nacka,^ half English. He was very tender-hearted, but
an excellent whaleman, whose power of vision was truly
remarkable. He stood on the other side of me, shrieking
with all the force of his lungs, " There blows ! — there
blows ! — there — there — there blows ! '*
2. " Where away ? " thundered old Captain Boom,
glancing aloft.
" On the weather-bow, four miles off, heading to lee-
ward!"*
This answer sent an electric thrill through every vein :
the old ship lurched as if she felt it too. Up came old
Boom, with spy-glass slung over his shoulder, mounting
two ratlines^ at a time. When on the cross-trees, he just
gave one squint with his telescope ; then his voice rang
through the ship like the notes of a trumpet : —
3. "Back the mainyard^ 1 — clear away the boats!"
It would have done you good to see the men jump to falls
and braces. The ship came up slowly, and Boom went
speedily down by means of a back-stay.'^
Zadik, following him, sprang like a deer into the star-
board^ boat.
" Lower away ! " ordered the captain. Buzz-z-z ! buzz !
buzz-z-z 1 sounded the falls ; and splash went the four boats
almost simultaneously into the water.
4. The merry lads bundled into them, and away they
flew, the captain's taking the lead.
"Snap your oars! Make the fire fly! Long and
strong's the word ! Bend your backs, every one of ye ! "
exclaimed the old captain.
In a similar manner the other officers encouraged their
crews, until they had proceeded about four miles, when
orders were given to stop pulling.
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 149
5. " None of your venturesome pranks, Thomas ; if you
get alongside a whale," said the skipper to his son, a lad
of fifteen, who belonged in the first mate's boat, ''you'll
have need of all your dexterity."
Thomas, the ship's favorite, smiled, and shook his curly
head. At the same moment, the water broke into a whirl-
pool a few fathoms astern. There was a hurried wdiisper-
ing; then the boats were forced round, as a very small
whale — a calf — rose to the surface.
6. We perceived at once that the creature had been
struck by some other crew ; for the shank of an iron pro-
truded from its body. It seemed very w^eak, and in much
pain, moving slowly, and now and then reeling sideways
with a sudden plunge. It swam in a circle, as if bewil-
dered ; and the noise of its spouting somehow reminded
me of the, wailing of a child.
" Paddle ahead ! " was the order ; for every man be-
lieved that the mother of the calf, the cow-whale, was not
far off.
The first mate was soon within darting distance.
"Give it to him!" he shrieked, and whiz! went the
harpooner's iron into the animal's body.
7. For a few moments the little whale, as if half stupe-
fied, remained nearly motionless ; then it came down,
writhing and whirling its flukes in great agony ; after
which it sounded. It was too weak to drag the boat very
fast or very far ; and it soon rose about fifty yards ahead.
" Haul line ! " ordered the mate, now in the boat's bow,
with lance in hand.
As he spoke, the water on one side of the calf suddenly
parted with a roar like a cataract, and an enormous levia-
than, the cow-whale, boomed up from the surface, beating
the sea with her flukes, and spouting furiously.
160 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
8. Round and round her offspring she swam ; but soon
paused, as if half paralyzed with astonishment and grief at
the situation of the sufferer. A moment she remained
thus, then moved ahead slowly and gently, occasionally
turning, as if to entice the little creature to follow. In
fact the calf endeavored to do so, but was too badly crip-
pled to swim ; it made a few feeble plunges toward its par-^
ent, and then began to writhe and wheel in great agony.
Perceiving that it was now in its flurry, the mate stopped
hauling line, and remained watching the animal until its
blood-red spoutings no longer rose, and it rolled over quite
dead.
9. The conduct of its mother was pitiful to witness.
She seemed unwilling to believe that her young was really
dead. Round it she slowl^^ swam, spouting with a noise
something between a shriek and a gasp. Then she moved
ahead as before, and, like one half crazed, seemed not
yet to have abandoned the hope of being followed by
her offspring. Meanwhile her enemies were rapidly but
stealthily advancing. Soon the captain, who was foremost,
was near enough to dart.
" Let her have ! " he exclaimed. Zadik raised his har-
poon ; at the same moment the cow gently rubbed her-
great head against the little whale, as if to ascertain the
reason why it would not follow her.
10. Zadik lowered the point of his weapon ; his wild
eyes softened.
" That whale is just like a human mother, captain," said
he, " and I haven't the heart to strike it ! "
" Why, Zadik, what ails ye ? Dart ! dart ! I tell ye ! "
As he spoke, a sudden cliange d'sune over the whale,
which now, half turning, saw the boat. Wrathful and
wild fqr revenge, she threw the whole length of her enor-
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 151
mous body out of water ; then, falling back with the din
of a cataract, she made straight for the boat, her bristhng
jaws wide open, and her broad flukes beating the sea !
11. " Stern ! stern ! " shouted old Boom; and every man
of his crew, except Zadik, turned pale.
The harpooner had changed with the leviathan. The
flush of fight was now on his cheek, and there was fire in
his eye. His dark brow was wrinkled ; the ends of his
straight, black hair bristled like spgar-points. He motioned
to the captain to keep off a little, and, being obeyed, sent
both irons whizzing into the side of the monster !
12. Maddened with pain, fiercer than ever, the whale
made a swift dash toward the boat, which she must have
grappled, had not the captain, by a dexterous movement,
whirled the light vessel to one side. Thus baffled, the
monster descended, shaking a savage warning with her
flakes as she disappeared. Away went the boat swift as a
whirlwind, the line humming around the loggerhead,^ and
the crew cheering lustily in answer to the cheers of those
who were pulling after them.
13. Zadik and the captain changed places, and the " old
lion," as we called Boom, soon had his lance ready. The
whale came up a quarter of an hour later, and " Haul
line ! " was the order. When within darting distance, the
skipper sent his long weapon into the monster's body.
Enraged beyond all bounds, she came dashing toward us
in a cloud of whirling spray tossed by her enormous
flukes.
14. " Stern ! stern ! " ordered the captain.
Thicker and faster flew the spray, almost hiding the ani-
mal from us, until suddenly we saw its great head, with
the bristling jaws, bursting from the white foam-cloud,
within six inches of the skipper 1 Had the nerves of
152 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Zadik failed him, the old man must have perished the next
minute. But the voice of the Kanacka rang like the clang
of a hammer, as with ready steering-oar he whirled the
boat's broadside toward the monster, and then gave the
order to "Stern!"
15. Snap went the monster's closing jaws, just missing
the boat's bow ! and whiz-z-z went the old captain's lance
again into her body !
As she dashed furiously toward us, our shipmates arrived
to take part in the combat. The first mate, who had left
the calf to be towed by an extra boat's crew from the ship,
attacked the monster on one flank, while the captain and
his second and third mates battled desperately upon the
other. The cheers of the men, the crashing of the whale's
flukes, mingling with wild cries, were heard on all sides ;
while so thick was the spray that no man could see his
neighbor distinctly.
16. Vigorously pressed, with lance after lance piercing
her body, the whale soon acknowledged the power of her
assailants by sending up into the spray-cloud a light-red
fountain of blood ! With exultant screams, the lancers,
still attacking, buried their weapons in her writhing body,
from which the spout rose darker and lower every mo-
ment.
Suddenly, with one tremendous whirl of her flakes, she
struck the first mate's boat, shivering it to atoms ! Then
slowly round and round she swam, the dark blood-spout
now ascending scarcely six inches. Finally, half lifting her
flukes and head in one last spasm of agony, she expired !
17. The first mate's crew, being good swimmers, had
not yet been picked up : for the captain had been too busy
to notice wJiicJi vessel was wrecked. As the poor fellows
were helped into his boat, he looked in vain for his son.
UNION FIFTH READER. 153
The sad story was soon told, (p^-) Poor little Thomas
was far down under the sea, whither his frame, crushed by
the whale's flukes, had been dragged by sharks.
18. The captain groaned, and bowed his head. He did
not lift it until we were alongside the ship. While we
were cutting up the whale, we looked in vain for him.
" He is down in the cabin," said the mate, " weeping
and sobbing like a child. He will never be a happy man
again ! "
''Ay, ay," said Zadik gloomily. "I felt as if no good
would come of our striking that wdiale ! We killed her
offspring, and she killed the captain's son I "
LESSON" XLI.
^ Le vi' a THAN" here means the great whale.
^ Mad' re pore, species of coral which usually branch like trees and
shrubs, and have the surface covered with small prominences, each
containini^ a cell.
^ Phos piior es' cexce, a shining with a faint light; state of being lumi-
nous Avithout sensible heat.
* Cacii'a lot, {cash' a lot,) the sperm-whale. It has in its head a large
cavity, in which is collected an oily fluid, which, after death, concretes
into a granulated, yellowish substance, called spermaceti.
^ Basques, [Basks,) an ancient and peculiar people, living on the slopes of
the Pyrenees Mountains.
* Tun' NY, a large fish of the mackerel species. Its flesh is considered
excellent food. Tunnies weighing over a thousand pounds are quit«
common in the Mediterranean.
LEVIATHAN, OR THE GREAT WHALE.
from the FRENCH OF MICHELET.
" rpHE fisherman belated at night in the North Sea,"
jL says Milton, " saw an isle, which, like the back of
a mountain, lay upon the water ; and in that isle he fast-
154 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES.
ened his anchor. The isle fled, and carried him away.
That isle was Leviathan." ^ Captain Durville was simi-
larly though not so fatally deceived. He saw at a dis-
tance an elevation on the water, Avh'ich appeared to be a
bank with breakers and eddies all around it, and certain
patches upon it looked like rocks.
2. Above and around this seemin*]!: bank, the swallow
and the stormy petrel raced and sported. The bank looked
venerably gray, covered as it was with shells and madre-
pores.^ But the mighty mass suddenly moved, and two
enormous columns of water, which it threw high into the
air, revealed the awakened whale.
3. Whales are given to companionship. Formerly they
were seen sailing along, not only in pairs, but occasicmally
in large families of ten or twelve in the solitary seas.
Nothing exceeded the grandeur of those vast and living
fleets, sometimes lighted up by their own phosphoresence,^
and throwing columns of Avater to the higlit of thirty or
forty feet, which, in the polar seas, smoked as it rose.
4. They would approach a vessel peaceably and in evi-
dent curiosity, looking upon her as some specimen of a
new. and strange species of fish ; and they sported around,
and welcomed the visitor. In their joy they raised them-
selves half upright, and then fell down again with a stun-
ning noise, making a boiling gulf as they sank. Their
innocent familiarity went so far, that they sometimes
touched the ship or her boats, — an imprudent confidence
which was most cruelly deceived. In less than a century,
the great species of the whale have almost disappeared.
5. Whales have always been very numerous in the
Greenland seas, — a grand object of desire to those to
whom oil is a thing of very first necessity. The fish gives
it by drops, the seal by gallons, the whale by hogsheads I
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 155
He Avas truly a bold man who first, with his poor weap-
ons, with the sea howling at his feet, and the darkness
closing around him, dared to pursue the whale !
6. A bold man was he, who, trusting to his courage, the
strength of his arm, and the weight of his harpoon, first
believed that he could pierce that mighty mass of blubber
and flesh, and convert it to his own profit ! A daring
man was li3 who first imagined that he could attack the
whale, and not perish in the tempest that would be raised
by the pl-unges and terrific blows of the astonished and
suffering monster ! And, as if to crown his audacity, the
man next fastened a line to his harpoon, and, braving still
more closely the frightful shock of the agonized and dying
giant, never once feared that that giant might plunge head-
long into the deep, taking with him harpoon, line, boat,
and man !
7. There is still another danger, and no less terrible.
It is, that, instead of meeting the common whale, that
brave man should flill in with the cachalot,* the terror of
the seas. He is not very large, — perhaps not more than
from sixty to eighty feet long ; but his head alone measures
about one-third the length of the body. In case of such a
meeting, woe to the fisher ! he would become the chased
instead of the chaser, the victim instead of the tyrant.
8. The cachalot has horrible jaws, and no less than
forty-eight enormous teeth. He could, with ease, devour
all, — both man and boat; and he seems always drunk
with blood. His blind raoje so terrifies all the other
whales, Ihat they escape, bellowing, throwing themselves
on the shore, or striving to hide themselves in the sand.
Even when he is dead, they still fear him, and will not
approach his carcass.
9. Many think that those intrepid men who first under-
156 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
took SO perilous a task as that of wliale-fishing, must have
been eccentric enthusiasts ; and that an undertakino; so
hazardous could never have originated with the prudent
men of the North, but must have been initiated by the
Basques/ those daring hunters and fishers, who were so
well accustomed to their own capricious sea, where they
fished the tunny .^ Here they first saw the huge whales
at play, and pursued them, frenzied by the hope of such
enormous prey; onward, and still onward^ no matter
whither, — even to the confines of the pole. '
10. Here^ doubtless, the poor whale fancied it must be
safe from its relentless pursuers. But our Basque madcaps
followed it even into those frozen regions. Tightening his
red belt around his waist, he stealthily and silently ap-
proaches the unconscious, sleeping monster, and fearlessly
plunges the harpoon into its very vitals. Poor whale !
He falls a victim to the selfishness and rapacity of man !
Such achievements afford a striking proof of the wonderful
powers of the human mind, in holding dominion, not only
over the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, but
also over the mighty monsters of the deep.
LESSON XLII.
* Gal I le'o, Galilei, a distinguished astronomer, was bom at Pisa, in
Italy, July 15, 1564; and died Jan. 8, 1642. In 1592, he was ap-
pointed professor of mathematics in the University of Padua. Hero
he became a convert to the Copemican system of the universe ; and, by
means of a leaden tube and two spectacle glasses, he obtained a crude
telescope of only threefold magnifying power. Subsequently he made
two others, one magnifying e/^rA?, and the other thhii/ times. With these
he discovered the mountains and cavities in the Moon, the four satel-
lites of Jupiter, and the rings of Saturn. But prejudice and ignorance
were combined against him. He was charged with heresy, imprisoned.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 157
and compelled to recant his opinions ; but he stamped his foot, and
exclaimed, — "77ie earth moves, for all that ! "
* Kep' ler, John, a celebrated mathematician and astronomer, was born at
Weil, in Wirtemberg, Dec. 21, 1571 ; and died Nov. 5, 1631. During
his life he published thirty-three separate works, among which his
" New Astronomy," and the " Harmonies of the World," are the most
remarkable. The latter work contains his celebrated law, that the
squares of the periodic times of the planets are as the cubes of their
distances ; but, from a blunder in his calculations, he rejected it. Hav-
ing discovered his error, he recognized with transport the absolute truth
of a principle, which, for seventeen years, had been the object of liis
incessant pursuit. He was almost frantic with joy, and exclaimed, —
" The die is cast ! The book is written to be read, either now or by pos-
terity, I care not which ! It may well wait a century for a reader, as
God has waited six thousand years for an observer ! "
THE GAME OF LIFE.
J. G. SAXE.
1. rpHERE'S a game much in fashion, — I think it's
_L called Eucher^
(Though I never have played it for pleasure or lucre,)
In which, when the cards are in certain conditions,
The plajers appear to have changed their positions,
And one of them cries, in a confident tone, —
*' I think I may venture to go it alone T''
2. While watching the game, 'tis a whim of tlie bard's
A moral to draw from the skirmish of cards.
And to fancy he sees in the trivial strife
Some excellent hints for the hattle of Life ;
Where, whether the prize he a ribbon or throne.
The ivinner is he who can " go it alone! '^
3. When great Galileo^ proclaimed that the world
In a regular orbit was ceaselessly whirled,
158 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES.
And got not a convert for all of liis pains,
But only derision, and prison, and chains, —
"jT^ moves^ for all that!'^ was his answering tone ;
For he knew, like the Earth, he could "yo it alone /^^
4. When Kepler,^ with intellect piercing afar.
Discovered the laws of each planet and star.
And doctors, who ought to have lauded his name,
Derided his learning, and blackened his fame,
" I can wait,'' he replied, " till the truth you shall
own ; "
For he felt in his heart he could "^o it alone/'*
6. Alas for the player who idly depends.
In the struggle of life, upon kindred and friends I
Whatever the value of blessings like these,
They can never atone for inglorious ease ;
Nor comfort the coward, who finds, with a groan.
That his crutches have left him to " ^o it alone/''
6. There's something, no doubt, in the hand you may hold ;
Health, family, culture, Avit, beauty, and gold.
The fortunate owner may fairly regard
As, each in its w^ay, a most excellent card ;
Yet the game may be lost Avith all these for your OAvn,
Unless you've the courage to ^' ^o it alone/"
7. In battle or business, whatever the game,
In law or in love, it is ever the same ;
In the struggle for power, or the scramble for pelf,
Let this be your motto, — ''^Rely on yourself /"
For, whether the prize be a ribbon or throne,
The victor is he who can "^o it alone/"
UNION FIFTH READER. 159
LESSON XLIIL
KEEP IN STEP.
ANON.
Those who would walk together, must keep in step. — Old Proverb.
1. AY, the world keeps moving forward,
I\ Like an army marching by :
Hear you not its heavy footfall
That resoundeth to the sky' ?
Some bold spirits bear the banner,
Souls of sweetness chant the song,
Lips of energy and fervor
Make the timid-hearted strong !
Like brave soldiers, we march forward :
If you linger or turn back,
You must look to get a jostling
While you stand upon our track.
Keep in step !
2. My good noiglibor, Master Standstill,
Gazes on it as it goes,
Kot quite sure but he is dreaming
In his afternoon's repose.
" Nothing good," he says, '' can issue
From this endless ' moving on ; '
Ancient laws and institutions
Are decaying, or are gone.
"We are rushino; on to ruin
With our mad, new-fangled ways.'*
While he speaks, a thousand voices,
As the heart of one man, say, —
" Keep in step ! "
160 SAKDERS' TTNION SERIES.
3. Be assured, good Master Standstill,
All-wise Providence designed
Aspiration and progression
For the yearning human mind.
Generations left their blessings
In the relics of their skill ;
Generations yet are longing
For a greater glory still.
And the shades of our forefathers
Are not jealous of our deed :
We but follow where they beckon,
We but go w^here they do lead !
Keep in step 1
4. One detachment of our army
May encamp upon the hill,
AYhile another in the valley
May enjoy " its own sweet will : ''
Tliis may answer to one ^vatchw^ord,
That may echo to another ;
But in unity and concord,
They discern that each is brother !
Breast to breast they're marching onward
In a good and peaceful way :
You'll be jostled if you hinder,
So don't offer let or stay:
Keep in step !
LESSON XLIY.
1 Shak'speare, William. See note, p. 106.
Ark' WRIGHT, Sir Richard, was born in Preston in 1 732. When thirty-
five years of age, he devoted his attention to the subject of inven-
tions for spinning cotton. Mills for spinning cotton by his machinery
UNION FIFTH* READER. 161
were first erected in Nottingham. The system has been universally
adopted, and, in all its main features, remains unaltered to the present
time. Out of his invention have grown up the largest manufacture,
the largest trade, the largest revenue, some of the largest cities, and tho
' largest national prosperity, in the world. Although defrauded out of
his patent right, yet by indomitable energy he turned the tide of pros-
perity and wealth to his own advantage, and left a large fortune to his
heirs.
Co lum'bus, Christopher, the discoverer of America in 1492, was born
in Genoa, Italy, 1436 ; and died May 20, 1506.
ENCOURAGEMENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF KNOWL- •
EDGE.
EDWARD EVERETT.
AN idea, I fear, prevails, that truths are obvious enough
in themselves, but that they apply only to men of ht-
erary education, — to professional characters, and persons
of fortune and leisure ; and that it is out of the power
of the other classes of society, and those who pass most of
their time in manual labor and mechanical industry, to
engage in the pursuit of knowledge with any hope of being
useful to themselves and others.
2. This I believe to be a great error. What is it that
we wish to improve ? The mind. Is this a thing mo-
nopolized by any class of society^ ? God forbid ! it is the
heritage with which he has endow^ed all tlie children of
the great family of man. Is it a treasure belonging to the
wealthy' ? It is talent bestowed alike on rich and poor,'
high and low. But this is not all : mind is, in all men,
and in every man, the same active, living, and creative
principle ; it is tlie man himself.
3. One of the renowned philosophers of heathen antiq-=
uity beautifully said of the intellectual faculties, — "I call
them not mine^ but mey It is these which make the man,
which are the man. I do not say that opportunities, that
wealth, leisure, and great advantages for education, are
11
162 SANDEES' UNIOK SEEIES.
nothing : but I ch say, they are much less than is com-
monly supposed ; I do say, as a general rule, that the
amount of useful knowledge which men acquire, and the
good they do with it, are by no means in direct proportion
to the degree to which they have enjoyed what are com-
monly called the great advantages of life.
4. Wisdom does sometimes, but not most commonly,
feed her children with a silver spoon. I believe it is per-
fectly correct to say, that a small proportion only of those
who have been most distinguished for the improvement of
their minds have enjoyed the best advantages for educa-
tion. I do not mean to detract^ in the least degree, from
the advantag3s of the various seminaries for learning which
public and private liberality has founded in our country.
They serve as places where a large number of persons are
prepared for their employment in the various occupations
which the public service requires.
5. But, I repeat it, of the ^reat benefactors of our race,
the men who, by wonderful inventions, remarkable dis-
coveries, and extraordinary improvements, have conferred
the most eminent service on their fellow-men, and gained
the highest names in history, by far the greater part
have been men of humble origin, narrow fortunes, small
advantages, and self-tauo;ht.
6. And this springs from the nature of the mind of man,
which is not, like natural things, a vessel to be filled up
from without ; into which you may pour a little or pour
much, and then measure, as with a gauge, the degrees of
knowledge imparted. The knowledge that can be so im~
parted is the least valuable kind of knowledge ; and the
man who has nothing but this, may be very learned, but can
not be very wise. In this great respect, — the most im-
portant that touches human condition, — loe are all equal.
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 1G3
T. It is not more true, tliat all men possess the same
natural senses and organs, than that their minds are en-
dowed with the same capacities for improvement, though
not, perliaps, all in the same degree. Shakspeare,^ whose
productions have been the wonder and delight of all who
speak the English language, for two hundred years, was a
runaway youth, the son of a wool-comber; and Sir Rich-
ard Arkwright,^ who invented the machinery for spinning
cotton, was the youngest of thirteen children of a poor
peasant, and, till he was thirty years of age, followed the
business of a traveling barber.
8. As men bring into the world with them an equal
intellectual endowment^ that is, minds equally susceptible
of improvement, so, in a community like that in which we
have the happiness to live, the means of improvement are
much more equally enjoyed than might at first be sup-
posed. Whoever has learned to read, possesses the keys
of Knowdedge ; and can, whenever he pleases, not only
unlock the portals of her temple, but penetrate to the
inmost halls and most sacred cabinets. A few dollars, the
surplus of the earnings of the humblest industry, are suffi-
cient to purchase the use of books which contain the ele-
ments of the whole circle of useful knowledge.
9. It may be thought that a considerable portion of the
community ivant time to attend to the cultivation of their
minds. But it is only necessary to make the experiment
to find two things : one, how much useful knowledge can
be acquired in a very little time ; and the other, how much
time can be spared, by good management, out of the busiest
day. There are very few pursuits in life whose duties are
so incessant that they do not leave a little time, every day,
to a man, whose temperate and regular habits allow him
the comfort of a clear head and a cheerful temper, in the
164 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES.
intervals of occupation ; and then there is one
which is redeemed to us, by our blessed religion, from the
calls of life, and affords us all time enough for the im-
provement of our rational and immortal natures.
10. There is also a time of leisure, which Providence,
in this climate, has secured to almost every man who has
any thing which can be called a home ; I mean our long
winter evenings. This season seems provided, as if ex-
pressly, for the purpose of furnishing those who labor with
ample opportunity for the improvement of their minds.
The severity of the weather, and the shortness of the days,
necessarily limit the portion of time which is devoted to
out-door industry ; and there is little to tempt us abroad
in search of amusement.
11. Every thing seems to invite us to employ an hour
or two of this calm and quiet season in the acquisition of
useful knowledge, and the cultivation of the mind. The
noise of life is hushed ; the pavement ceases to resound
with the din of laden wheels, and the tread of busy men ;
the glaring sun has gone down, and the moon and the
stars are left to watch in the lieavens over the slumbers of
the peaceful creation. The mind of man should keep its
vigils with them ; and while his body is reposing from the
labors of the day, and his feelings are at rest from its ex-
citements, he should seek, in some amusing and instruct-
ive page, a substantial food for the craving appetite
for knowledge.
12. If we needed any encouragement to make these
efforts to improve our minds, we might find it in every
page of our country's history. Nowhere do we meet with
examples, more numerous and more brilliant, of men who
have risen above poverty and obscurity, and every disad-
vantage, to usefulness and an honorable name- Our whole
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 1G5
vast continent was added to the geography of the woi'ld
by the persevering efforts of a humble Genoese mariner,
the great Columbus,^ who, by the steady pursuit of the
enlightened conception he had formed of the figure of
the earth, before any navigator had acted upon the belief
that it was round, discovered the American continent.
13. He was the son of a Genoese pilot, a pilot and sea-
man himself; and, at one period of his melancholy career,
was reduced to beg his bread at the doors of the convents
in Spain. But he carried within himself, and beneath a
humbler exterior, a sinrit for which there was not room in
Spain, in Europe, nor in the then known world ; and
which led him on to a hiojht of usefulness and fame,
beyond that of all the monarchs that ever reigned.
LESSON XLV.
* Per ceite', (per, through; ceive, to take,) to take through the medium
of the senses ; to see ; to diseern.
^ Pre cede', (pre, before; cede, to go,) to go before in order of time. See
Sanders' Analysis, page 40.
8 Mil,' ton, John. See note, p. 107.
THE CAPACITY OF AN HOUR.
JOHN FOSTER.
THE omnipresent Spirit perceives^ all but an infinite
number of actions taking place together throughout
the different regions of his empire. And, by tlie end of
the hour which has just begun, a greater number of opera-
tions ivill have been performed^ which, at this moment, have
not been performed^ than the collective sum of all that has
been done in this world since its creation.
166 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
2. The Jiour^ just now begun, may be exactly the period
for finishing some great plan^ or concluding some great dis-
pensation^ which thousands of years or ages have been
advancing to its accomplishment. This may be the very
hour in which a new world shall originate, or an ancient
one sink in ruins. At this hour^ such changes and phe-
nomena may be displayed in some parts of the universe
as were never presented to the astonishment of the most
ancient created minds.
3. At this very hour the inhabitants of some remote orb
may be roused by signs analogous to those which we anti-
cipate to precede^ the final judgment, and in order to pre-
pare them for such an event. This hour may somewhere
be^in or conclude mightier contests than Milton"^ was able
to imagine, and contests producing a more stupendous re-
sult, — contests^ in comparison with which those which
shake Europe are more diminutive than those of the
meanest insects.
4. At this very hour thousands of amazing enterprises
may be undertaken, and, by the end of it, a progress
made, which, to us, would have seemed to require ages.
At this hour wise intelligences may terminate long and
patient pursuits of knowledge in such discoveries as siiall
give a new science to their race.
6. At this hour a whole race of improved and virtuous
beings may be elevated to a higher station in the great
system of beings. At this hour some new mode of divine
operation, some new law of Nature, which was not re-'
quired before, may be introduced into the first trial of
its action.
6. At this hour the most strange suspensions of regular
laws may take place at the will of Him that appointed
them, for the sake of commanding a solemn attention, and
UNION FIFTH RFADER. 167
confirming some divine communication by miracles. At
this hour the inhabitants of the creation are most certainly
performing more actions than any faculty of mind, loss
than infinite, can observe or remember.
7. All this, and incomparably more than all this, a phi-
losopher and a Christian would delight to imagine. And
all that he can imagine in the widest stretch of thought
IS as nothing in comparison with what most certainly takes
place in so vast a universe ever^/ hour, and will take place
this veri/ hour, in which these faint conjectures are indulged.
LESSOI^ XLVI.
EVENING PRAYER.-
CHANNING.
LET US now consider another part of the day which is
favorable to the duty of prayer ; avc mean the evening.
This season, like the morning, is calm and quiet. Our
labors are ended. The bustle of life is gone by. The
distracting glare of the day has vanished. The darkness
which surrounds us favors seriousness, composure, and
solemnity. At night, the earth fades from our sight, and
nothing of creation is left to us but the starry heavens, so
vast, so magnificent, so serene, as if to guide up our
thoughts above all earthly things to God and immortality.
2. This period should, in part, be given to frayer, as it
furnishes a variety of devotional topics and excitements.
The evening, is the close of an important division of time,
and is, therefore, a fit and natural season for stopping, and
looking back on the day. And can Ave ever look back on a
day which bears no witness to God, and lays no claim to
our gratitude'? Who is it that strengthens us for daily
168 SANDEES' UNION SEBIES.'
labor, gives us daily bread, continues our friends and com-
mon pleasures, and grants us the privilege of retiring, after
the cares of the day, to a quiet and beloved home ?
3. The review of the day will often suggest not only
these ordinary benefits, but ^:>eci*Zzar ^;roo/s of God's good-
ness, — unlooked-for successes, singular concurrences of
favorable events, special blessings sent to our friends, or
new and powerful aids to our own virtue, which call for
peculiar thankfulness. And shall all these benefits pass
away unnoticed' ? Shall w^e retire to repose as insensible
as the wearied brute' ? How fit and natural is it to close,
with pious acknowledgment, that day which has been filled
with Divine beneficence !
4. But the evening is the time to review, not only our
blessings, but our actions. A reflecting mind will naturally
remember, at this hour, that another day is gone, and gone
to testify of us to our Judge. How natural and useful to
inquire what report it has carried to Heaven ! Perhaps we
have the satisfaction of looking back on a day, which, in
its general tenor, has been innocent and pure ; which, hav-
ing begun with God's praise, has been spent as in His pres-
ence ; which has proA^ed the reality of our principles in
temptation : and shall such a day end without gratefully
acknowledging Him in whose strength we have been
strong, and to whom we owe the powers and opportunities
of Christian improvement' ?
5. But no day will present to us recollections of purity
unmixed with sin. Conscience, if suffered to inspect faith-
fully and speak plainly, will recount irregular desires and
defective motives, talents wasted and time misspent ; and
shall we let the day pass from us without penitently con-
fessing our offenses to Him who has witnessed them, and
who has promised pardon to true repentance' ? Shall we
UNION FIFTH READER. 169
retire to rest with a burden of unlamented and nnforgiven
guilt upon our consciences' ? Shall we leave these stains
to spread over and sink into the soul' ?
6. A religious recollection of our lives is one of the chief
instruments of piety. If possible, no day should end with-
out it. If we take no account of our sins on the day on
which they are committed, can we hope that they will re-
cur to us at a more distant period, that we shall watch
against them to-morrow, or that we shall gain the strength
to resist them, which we will not implore' ?
7. The evening is a fit time for prayer, not only as it
ends the day, but as it immediately precedes the period of
repose. The hour of activity having passed, we are soon
to sink into insensibility and sleep. How fit that we resign
ourselves to the care of that Being who never sleeps, to
Avhom the darkness is as the light, and whose providence is
our only safety ! How fit to entreat Him that He would
keep us to another day ; or, if our bed should prove our
grave, that He would give us a part in the resurrection of
the just, and awake us to a purer and immortal life ! Let
our prayers, like the ancient sacrifices, ascend morning and
evening. Let our days begin and end with God.
LESSON XLYIL
THE TIME FOR PRAYER.
ANON.
1- "TTTHEN is the time for prayer ?
Y T With the first beams that light the morning sky,
Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,
Lift up thy thoughts on high ;
8
170 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Commend thy loved ones to His watchful care :
Morn is the time for prayer:
2. And in the noontide hour,
If worn by toil, or by sad cares oppressed,
Then unto God thy spirit's sorrow pour,
And He will give thee rest ;
Thy voice shall reach Him through the fields of air :
Noon is the time for prayer.
8. When the bright sun hath set,
While eve's bright colors deck the skies.
When with the loved at home again thou'st met,
Then let thy prayers arise
For those who in thy joys and sorrows share :
Eve is the time for prayer.
4. And when the stars come forth ;
When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are
given,
And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth
To pure, bright dreams of Heaven, —
Kneel to thy God, ask strength life's ills to bear :
Night is the time for prayer.
L When is the time for prayer ?
In every hour^ while life is spared to thee ;
In crowds or solitude, in joy or care.
Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.
At rriorn, at noon, and eve, with loved ones there,
Bend thou the knee in prayer !
tJNION FIFTH BEADEB. 171
LESSON XLVIII.
ONE BY ONE.
ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
1. /^NE by one the sands are flowing ;
\J One by one the moments fall ;
Some are coming, some are going :
Do not strive to grasp them all.
2. One by one thy duties wait thee ;
Let thy whole strength go to each ;
Let no future dreams elate thee :
Learn thou first what these can teach.
3. One by one, (briglit gifts from Heaven,)
Joys are sent thee here below :
Take them readily when given,
Ready, too, to let them go.
4. One by one thy griefs shall meet thee ; '
Do not fear an armed band ;
One will fade as others ojreet thee, —
Shadows passing through the land.
6. Do not look at life's long sorrow ;
See how small each moment's pain :
God will help thee for to-morrow ;
So each day begin again.
6. Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear ;
Luminous the crown, and holy.
When each orem is set with care.
17^ SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
7. Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond ;
Nor, tlie daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.
8. Hours are golden links, God's token.
Reaching Heaven ; but, one by one,
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.
LESSON XLIX.
•Nep' tune, (the son of Saturn and Ops,) the god of the sea, fountains,
and rivers. He is represented as bearing a trident (a spear with three
prongs) for a scepter.
' Mer' cu ry (the son of Jupiter and Maia) was the fabled messenger and
interpreter of the gods, and the god of eloquence and commerce.
'Jove, or Ju' pi ter, (the son of Saturn,) was the chief divinity of the
ancient Romans.
INVENTIVE GENIUS AND LABOR.
elihu burritt.
THE physical necessity of mental activity^ in every prac-
tical sense, confers upon the mind the power to deter-
mine our stature, strength, and longevity ; to multiply our
organs of sense, and increase their capacity, in some cases,
to thirty million times their natural power. This capacity
of the mind is not a mere prospective possibility ; it is a
fact, — a tried, practical fact ; and the human mind is
more busy than ever in extending this prerogative.
2. Let us look in upon man while engaged in the very
act of adding to his natural strength these gigantic faculties.
See him yonder, bending over his stone mortar, and pound-
ing, and thumping, and sweating, to pulverize his flinty
UNION FIFTH READER. 173
grain into a more esculent form. He stops and looks a
moment into the precipitous torrent thundering down its
rocky channel. There ! A thought has struck him. He
begins to whistle : he wliittles some ; for he learned to
w] little soon after he learned to breathe. He gears together,
some horizontally, and others perpendicularly, a score of
little wooden wheels. He sets them agoing, and claps his
hands in triumph to see what they would do if a thousand
times larger.
3. Look at him again ! How proudly he stands, with
folded arms, looking at the huge things that are working
for him ! He has made that wild, raging torrent as tame
as his horse. He has tauo-ht it to walk backward and for-
ward. He has given it hands, and put the crank of his big
wheel into them, and made it turn his ponderous grind-
stone. What a taskmaster ! Look at him again ! He is
standing on the ocean beach, watching the crested billows
as they move in martial squadrons over the deep. He has
conceived or heard that richer productions, more delicious
fruits and flowers, may be found on yonder invisible shore.
In an instant his mind sympathizes with the yearnings of
his physical nature.
4. See ! there is a new thought in his eye. He remem-
bers how he first saddled the horse : he now bits and saddles
the mountain wave. Not satisfied with taming this proud
element, he breaks another into his service. Remembering
his mill-dam, he constructs a floating dam of canvas in the
air, to harness the winds to his ocean-wa^on. Thus, with
his water-horse and air-horse harnessed in tandem* lie
drives across the wilderness of waters with a team that
would make old Neptune^ hide his diminished head for
envy, and sink his clumsy chariot beneath the waves.
* In tandem, one after another.
174 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
5. See now ! he wants something else : his appetite for
something better than he has, grows upon what he feeds on.
The fact is, he has plodded about in his one-horse wagon
till he is disgusted with his poor capacity of locpmotion.
The wings of Mercury,^ modern eagles, and paper kites, are
all too imp'acticable for models. He settles down upon the
persuasion that he can make a great Iron Horse, with
bones of steel and muscles of brass, that will run against
Time with Mercury, or any other winged messenger of
Jove,' — the daring man !
6. He brings out his huge leviathan upon the track.
How the giant creature struts forth from his stable, panting
to be gone ! His great heart is a furnace of glowing coals ;
his lymphatic blood is boiHng in his veins ; the strength of
a thousand horses is nerving his iron sinews. But his mas-
ter reins him with one finger^ till the whole of some Western
village — men, women, children, and half their homed cat-
tle, sheep, poultry, wheat, cheese, and potatoes — has been
stowed away in that long train he has harnessed to his
foaming: steam-horse.
7. And now he shouts, interrogatively, " All right' ? "
and, applying a burning goad to the huge creature, away it
thunders over the iron road, breathing forth fire and smoke
in its indignant haste to outstrip the wind. More terrible
than the war-horse* in Scripture, clothed with louder thun-
der, and emitting a cloud of flame and burning coals from
his iron nostrils, he dashes on through dark mountain
passes, over jutting precipices and deep ravines. His tread
shakes the earth like a traveling Niagara, and the sound
of his chariot-wheels warns the people of distant towns that
he is coming.
* tiee syth chap, oi Job, 20-25tU verses.
UNION FIFTH READER. 175
LESSON L.
THE RESULTS OF WORK.
DR. J. G. HOLLAND.
INDEPENDENCE and self-respect are essential to
happiness ; and these are never to be attained withoi t
earnest work. It is impossible that a man shall be a droncy
and go through life without a purpose which contemplates
worthy resuhs, and, at the same time, maintain his self-
respect. No idle man, however rich he may be, can feel
th» genuine independence of him who earns honestly and
manfully his daily bread.
2. The idle man stands outside of God's plan, — outside
tbe ordained scheme of things ; and the truest self-respect,
the noblest independence, and the most genuine dignity,
are not to be found there. The man who does his part in
life, who pursues a worthy end, and who takes care of him-
self, is the happy man. There is a great deal of cant
afloat about the dignity of labor, uttered mostly, perhaps,
by those who know little about it experimentally; but
labor has a dignity which attaches to little else that is
human.
8. To labor rightly and earnestly is to walk in the
golden track that leads to God. It is to adopt the regi-
men of manhood and womanhood. It is to come into
sympathy with the great struggle of humanity toward per-
fection. It is to adopt the fellowship of all the great and
good the world has ever known. I suppose that all God's
purposes in work are fulfilled in the completion of the dis-
cipline of the worker ; and the results of work are doubt-
less laid under tribute for this end.
4. It is in achievement that Work throws off all her re-
176 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
pulsive features, and assumes tlie form and functions of an
angel. Before her, like a dissolving scene, the forest fades,
with its vvild beasts and its wild men ; and, under her hand,
smiling villages rise among the hills and on the plains, and
yellow harvests spread the fields with gold. The city,
with its docks and warehouses, and churches and palaces,
springs, at her bidding, into being.
5. The trackless ocean mirrors her tireless pinions as
she ransacks the climes for the food of commerce, or flames
with the torches of her steam-sped messengers. She binds
states and marts and capitals together with bars of iron
that thunder with the ceaseless rush of life and trade.
She pictures all scenes of beauty on canvas, and carves all
forms of excellence in marble. Into huge libraries she
pours the wealth of countless precious lives. She erects
beautiful and convenient homes for men and women to
dwell in, and weaves the fibers which Nature prepares mto
fabrics for their covering and comfort.
6. She rears great civilizations that run like mountain-
ranges through the level countries, their summits sleeping
among the clouds, or still flaming with the fire that fills
them, or looming grandly in the purple haze of history.
Nature furnishes material, and Work fashions it. By the
hand of Art, Work selects, and molds, and modifies, and
recombines that which it finds, and gives utterance and
being to those compositions of matter and of thought
which build for man a new world, with special adaptation
to his desires, tastes, and necessities. Man's record
upon this wild world is the record of ivorh^ and of work
alone.
7. Work explores the secrets of the universe, and brings
back those contributions which make up the sum of human
knowledge. It counts the ribs of the mountains, and feels
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 177
the pulses of the sea, and traces the foot-paths of the stars,
and calls the animals of the forest, and the birds of the
air, and the flowers of the field, by name. It summons
horses of fire and chariots of fire from heaven, and makes
them the bearers of its thought. It plunders the tombs of
dead nationalities, and weaves living histories from the
shreds it finds.
8. How wonderful a being is man, when viewed in the
lisht of his achievements I It is in the record of these that
we find the evidence of his power, and the credentials of
his glory. Into the results of work each generation pours
its life ; and, as the results grow in excellence, with broader
forais, and richer tints, and nobler meanings, they become
the indexes of the world's progress. We estimate the life
of a generation hj what it does; and the results of its work
stand out in advance of its successor, to show it what it
can do, and to show it what it must do, to reach a finer
consummation.
9. Thus Work, in her results, lifts each generation in the
world's progress from step to step, shortening the ladder
upon which the angels ascend and descend, and climbing by
ever brio-hter and broader 2;radations toward the ultimate
perfection. A new and more glorious gift of power
compensates for each worthy expenditure ; So that it
is by work that man carves his way to that measure of
power which will fit him for his destiny, and leave him
nearest God.
10. Hammer away, thou sturdy smith, at that bar of
iron ! for thou art bravely forging thy own destiny. Weave
on in glad content, industrious worker of the mill ! for thou
art weaving cloth of gold, though thou seest not its luster.
Plow and plant, and rear and reap, ye tillers of the soil !
for those brown acres of yours are pregnant with nobler
12
178 SAKDEBS' UNION SEHIES.
fruitage than that which hung in Eden. Let Commerce
fearlessly send out her ships ; for there is a haven where
they will arrive at last, with freighted wealth below, and
flying streamers above, and jubilant crews between. Work-
ing well for the minor good and the chief good of life, you
shall win your way to the great consummation, and find
in your hands the golden key that will open for you the
riddle of your history.
LESSON LL
* Car lyle", Thomas, an eccentric writer, was bom in Scotland, 1796.
Ilis style, at first, was simple and eloquent ; latterly he became affected
and grotesque, though often vigorous.
OUR DEEDS IMPERISHABLE.
L. H. GRIN DON.
NO man is happier than he who loves and fulfills
that particular work for the world which falls to his
share. Even thouojh the full understanding!: of his -work
and of its ultimate value may not be present Avith him, if
he but love it, and his conscience approve, it brings an
abounding satisfaction. Indeed, none of us fully compre-
liond our office, nor the issues we are working for.
2. To man is intrusted the nature of his actions, and
not the result of them. This, God keeps out of our sight.
The most trivial act, doubtless, goes to the promotion of a
multitude of ends, distant it may be to ourselves, but only
as the leaves of a tree are distant from their supplying
rootlets ; and therefore does it behoove us to be diligent in
our several spheres. We should work like the bees, sedu-
lous to collect all the honey within our reach, but leaving
to Providence to order w^hat shall come of it.
i
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 179
3. The good which our exertions effect, may rarely or
never become visible. In teaching, w^hich is the readiest
of good uses, how often does all exertion seem in vain !
Our duti/ is, nevertheless, to persevere, and strive to do all
we can, leaving the result with Providence. Every man
should go on working, never debating within himself, nor
wavering in doubt, whether it mai/ succeed, but labor as if^
Df necessity, it must succeed.
4. Between the result of a single effort and the end we
have in view, and the magnitude of the obstacles to be
overcome, there may often appear a large and painful
disproportion : but we must not allow ourselves to be dis-
couraged by seeming s ; warm, hearty, sunny endeavor will
unfaihngly meet with its reward. Good uses are never
without result. Once enacted, they become a part of the
moral world. They give to it a new enrichment and
beauty, and the whole universe partakes of their influence.
They may not return in the shape wherein played forth,
but likelier after the manner of seed, which never forgets
to turn to flowers.
5. Philosophers tell us, that, since the creation of the
world, not one particle of matter has been lost. It may
have passed into new shapes ; it may have combined with
other elements ; it may have floated away in vapor : but it
comes back some time, in the dew-drop or the rain, helping
tlie leaf to grow, and the fruit to swell : through all its
wanderings and transformations. Providence watches over
and directs it. So it is with every generous and self-deny-
ing effort. It may escape our observation, and be utterly
forgotten ; it ma}^ seem to have been utterly in vain : but
it has painted itself on the eternal world, and is never
effaced. Nothing that has the ideas and principles of
Heaven in it can die or be fruitless.
180 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
6. " Talk not of wasted affection ; affection never was
wasted :
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters re-
turning
Back to their spring, Hke the rain, shall fill it full
of refreshment.
That which the fountain sends forth, returns again
to the fountain."
7. Carlyle^ says, '^ It is from our worh we gain most of
©ur self-knowledge, — one of the most important desiderata^
of life. Our works are the mirror within which the spirit
first sees its natural lineaments. 'Know thyself^ is an
impossihle precept till it be translated into this partially
possible one. Know what thou canst work atJ'^ Work is
obedience, and self-knowledge is invaluable ; and thus is
proved that duty and interest are but two name? for
one fact.
LESSON LIT.
THE USES OF LIFE.
HARPER'S MAGAZINE.
THOUGH we climb Fame's proudest hight ;
Though we sit on hills afar.
Where the thrones of triumph are ;
Though all deepest mysteries be open to our sight
If we win not by that power
For the world another dower, —
If this great Humanity share not in our gain, —
We have lived our life in vain,
* Desiderata, things desired.
UNION FIFTH EEADEK. 181
2. Though we revel in sweet dreams ;
Though with poet's eye we look
Full on Nature's open book,
And our spirits wander, singing with the birds and
streams, —
If we let no music in
To the world of grief and sin, —
If we draw no spirit heavenward by the strain, —
We have lived our life in vain.
3. Though our lot be calm and bright ;
Though upon our brows we wear
Youth, and grace, and beauty rare.
And the hours go swiftly, singing in their flight ;
If we let no glory down
Any darkened life to crown, —
If our grace and joyance have no ministry for
pain, —
We have lived our life in vain,
4. Though for weary years we toil ;
Though we gather all the gold
From the mines of wealth untold ;
Though from farthest shores of ocean we have brought
the spoil ;
What, at the last, is won,
If Ave hear not God's " Well done " ?
If the world's want and sorrow be not lessened by our
gain,
We have lived our life in vain.
182 BAKDEHS' UNION SERIES.
5. Though we be, in heart and hand,
Mighty with all foes to cope.
Rich in courage and in hope.
Fitted as strong laborers in the world to stand ;
If with these we right no wrong,
What avails it to be strong ?
If we strengthen not the weak, raise not the bowed
again, —
We have lived our life in vain.
6. To the giver shall be given :
If thou wouldest walk in light,
Make other spirits bright :
Who, seeking for himself alone, ever entered Heaven ?
In blessing we are blest ;
In labor find our rest :
If we bend not to the world's work, heart, and hand,
and brain, —
We have lived our life in vain,
7. Selfishness is utter loss :
Life's most perfect joy and good —
Ah ! how few have understood !
Only One hath proved it fully, and He died upon the
cross.
Taking on Himself the curse
So to bless a universe :
If we follow not His footsteps through the pathway
straight and plain, —
We have lived our life in vain*
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 183
LESSON LIII.
LOFTY ASPIRATIONS.
DEM. REVIEW.
1. /^EASE your wild fluttering, thoughts that fill the soul I
yj Silence awhile ; 'tis but the hour of birth !
Spurn not impatiently the miners control,
Nor seek the clouds ere ye have looked on earth :
Still your strong beating till the day has gone
And starry eve comes on !
2. Tr% would ye sweep so proudly through the sky,
With fearless wing the snow-crowned hills above,
"Where the strong eagle scarcely dares to fly,
And the cloud-armies thunder as they rove, —
Make in the solitude of storms your path,
And tempt the lightning's wrath?
8. Will ye not linger in the earth's green fields
Till the first feebleness of youth is o'er ;
Clasp the fresh joy that young existence yields
In the bright present, and desire no more' ;
Lulled among blossoms, down Life's morning stream
Glide in Elysian dream' ?
4. Throb not so wildly, restless spirit, now !
Deep and undying though thy impulse be :
Would not the roses Avither on thy brow,
AVhen from thy weary chains at last made free' ?
In such hot glare, Avould not the proud crest stoop.
And the scorched pinion droop' ?
184 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
5. I pause. In might the thronging thoughts arise, —
Hopes unfulfilled, and glory yet afar, —
Vague, restless longings that would seek the skies,
And back in flame come like a falling star :
I hear ye in the heart's loud beating seek
A voice wherewith to speak :
6. " Say, can the children of a loftier sphere
Find on the earth the freedom they desire'?
Can the strong spirit fold its pinions here.
And give to joy the utterance of its lyre' ?
Can the fledged eaglet, born where sunbeams burn,
Back into darkness turn ' ?
7. " Must not the wing, that would aspire to sweep
Through realms undarkened by the breath of sin,
Dare in its earliest flight the trackless deep,
Nor faint and feebly on the earth begin, —
Mount as a soaring lark in morning's glow.
And leave the mists below'?
8. " We feel, in heaven's own ether, calm and high,
A god-like strength, the storms of earth to stem ;
The volleyed thunders from our ])atliway fly ; *
We twine the lig-htninor for a diadem !
Far, far below, the clouds in darkness move ;
The sun is bright above !
9. "No soul can soar too loftily, whose aim
Is God-given truth and brother-love of man ;
Who builds in hearts the altars of his fame.
And ends in love what sympathy began.
Spirit, ascend ! though far thy flight may be,
God then is nearer thee ! "
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 185
LESSON LIT.
* West Point, an important military post, is situated on the Hudson, just
below Newburg. During the war of the Revolution, the infamous
Benedict Arnold, who was in command of this post, agreed to deliver
it up to the British. It is now the seat of the United-States Academy.
GENERAL WASHINGTON'S ESCAPE.
THE name of Washington is dear to every American.
Distinguished not only for iDravery and intelUgence,
but for the purest virtues which can adorn the human
heart, he has been venerated in the memory of distant
nations, and immortalized by the blessings he shed upon
his country. He resembles the orb of day, imparting its
twilight long after it is set, and invisibly dispensing its
light and cheering warmth to the world.
2. Cautious and prudent, he was never surprised by the
most disheartening failures, nor alarmed into compliance
by the most undaunted threats. His eye could penetrate
the darkest designs, and his powers of invention enabled
him to escape the most formidable stratagems. The very
means employed by the enemy to incommode him, were
frequently, in his own hands, the instruments of their ruin.
The following account of his escape from a treacherous
plot to insnare him will serve as an illustration of his vigi-
lance and eagle-eyed caution.
3. When the American army was stationed at West
Point ,^ during the Revolutionary War, the British head-
quarters were not many miles distant, on the Hudson ;
and each was waiting, like the figures on a chess-board,
for some favorable movement to disconcert and thwart the
operations of the other. Scouting-parties would engage in
186 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
frequent skirmishes ; and wagons of provisions, ammuni-
tion, and clothing, would fall into the power of those supe-
rior in number and dexterity.
4. On one of these occasions, a quantity of English uni-
form was seized by an American detachment ; and several
notable advantages obtained by the latter, inspired the
enemy with a desire to retaliate. About this time, while
at West Point, General Washington had an intimate ac-
quaintance residing not far from the army, in whose family
^he enjoyed the kindest hospitality, as well as relief from
many of those sterner engagements which harassed his
weary mind. As every circumstance was watched by
either army, a visit like this, not many miles from their
camp, could not long escape the cognizance of the British ;
and to possess a prisoner like General Washington, would
tend, in their opinion, to shorten the period of the war.
5. But the undertaking was difficult : there were always
advance guards to cover the American commander, and
there was no mode of discovering his visits except by win-
ning over some one of the family. The friend whom the
general visited was once thought to have espoused the
interests of the British ; but he had taken a decided stand
in favor of America, and, though a brave man, he professed
the strictest neutrality, alleging, as his reason, his advanced
years and dependent family.
6. During the intima(;y of the general, it was rumored
in the American army that his friend had been seen often
returning from the British camp. Washington seemed to
disregard the report ; for he never ceased to visit the fam-
ily, and apparently mingled as cordially with the host as if
no suspicion had crossed his mind. At length, one day, as
the general was taking his leave, his friend earnestly re-
quested him to dine with him the following afternoon, em-
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 187
pliatlcally naming the hour of two o'clock as the moment
of expecting him.
7. He reminded liim of the uncommon dehght which his
intimacy conferred ; begged him to lay aside every formal-
ity, and regard his house as his home ; and hinted that he
feared the general did not consider it in that light, as the
guard, that always accompanied him, seemed to indicate ho
was not visiting a friend. " By no means, dear sir !" ex
claimed the worthy patriot : " and, as a proof of the confi-
dence' which I repose in you, I will visit you alone to-mor-
row ; and I pledge my sacred word of honor that not a
soldier shall accompany me."
8. " Pardon me, general," cried the host; "but why so
serious on so trifling a subject? I merely jested." — "I
am aware of it," said the hero, smiling ; " but what of that ?
I have long considered the planting of these outposts un-
necessary, inasmuch as they may excite the suspicion of
the enemy ; and, although it be a trifle, that trifle shall not
sport with the friendship you indulge for me." — " But
then — the hour, general ? " — " Oh, yes ! two o^ clock, you
said?" — ''Precisely," returned the other.
9. At one o'clock, on the following day, the general
mounted his favorite horse, and proceeded alone upon a
by-road which conducted him to the hospitable mansion.
It was about half an hour before the time ; and the bustling
host received him with open arms, in addition to the greet-
ings of the delighted family. " How punctual^ kind suM"
exclaimed the warm-hearted friend. '^ Punctuality/, ^^ re-
plied Washington, "is an angel virtue, embracing minor
as well as important concerns. He that is not punctual
with Si friend^ may doubt his integrity." The host started ;
but, recovering himself, he added, " Then 7/ours is a proof
that we enjoy your fullest confidence."
188 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
10. Washington proposed a promenade upon tlie piazza
previous to the dinner. It overlooked a rough country sev-
eral miles in extent, — fields of grain here and there sweep-
ing beneath the sides of bleak hills, producing nothing but
rocks and grass; shallow runnels of water flowing along
the hollows of the uneven waste, then hidden by wood-
lands, intercepting a prospect of the country beyond ;
spotted now and then with silver glimpses of the Hudson,
stealing through the sloping grounds below, and checkered
on both sides by the dim, purple Highlands, frowning some-
times into hoary battlements, and tapering again into gentle
valleys hardly illuminated by the sun.
11. "This is fine, bold scenery!" exclaimed the general,
apparently absorbed in the beauty of the prospect. " Yes,
sir," replied his friend, looking wistfully around, as if ex-
pecting some one's approach ; but, catching the piercing
glance of Washington, his eyes were fastened confusedly
on the floor. " I must rally you, my friend," observed tlie
general. " Do you perceive yonder point, that boldly rises
from the water, and suddenly is lost behind that hill which
obstinately checks the view?" — "I do," rephed the ab-
sent-minded listener, engaged apparently in something else
than the subject of inquiry. "TAerg," continued the hero,
"my enemy lies encamped; and, were it not for a slight
mist, I could almost fancy that I perceive his cavalry mov-
ing. But hark ! that cannon ! Do you not think it pro-
ceeds from the headquarters of the enemy ? "
12. While pointing out to his friend the profile of the
country, the face of the latter was often turned the op*
posite way, seemingly engrossed in another object imme-
diately behind the house. He w^as not mistaken : it was
a troop, seemingly, of British horse, that were descending
a distant hill, winding through a labyrinth of numerous
UNION FIFTH READER. 189
projections and trees, until they were seen galloping
through the valley below ; and then again they were hid-
den by a field of forest, that swelled along the bosom of
the landscape. " Would it not be strange," observed the
general, apparently unconscious of the movements behind
him, *' that, after all my toils, America should forfeit her
liberty?"
13. " Heaven forbid ! " said his friend, becoming less
reserved, and entering more warmly into the feelings of
the other. " But," resumed Washington, '' I have heard
of treachery in the heart of one's own camp ; and doubt-
less you know that it is possible ' to be wounded even in
the house of one's friend.' " — " Sir," demanded the down-
cast host, unable to meet the searching glance of his com-
panion, " who can possibly intend so daring a crime ? " —
" I only meant," replied Washington, " that treachery is
the most hideous of crimes ; for, Judas-like, it will even
sell its Lord for money!" — "Very time, general," re-
sponded the anxious host, as he gazed upon a troop of
British horse winding round the hill, and riding with post-
haste toward the hospitable mansion.
14. " Is it two o'clock yet ? " demanded Washington :
" for I have an engagement this afternoon at the army ; and
I regret that my visit must, therefore, be shorter than in-
tended." — '' It lacks a full quarter yet," said his friend,
seeming doubtful of his watch, from the arrival of the
horsemen. " But bless me, sir ! what cavalry are those
that are so rapidly approaching the house ? " asked hia
friend. " Oh ! they may possibly be a party of British
light horse," returned the general coolly, '' which mean
no harm ; and, if I mistake not, they have been sent for
the purpose of protecting mef''
15. As he said this, the captain of the troop was seen
190 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
dismounting from his horse ; and his example was followed
by the rest of the party. " General ! " returned the other,
walking to him very familiarly, and tapping him on the
shoulder, " general, you are my prisoner ! " — "I believe
not," said Washington, looking calmly at the men who
were approaching the steps ; '' but, friend," exclaimed he,
slapping him in return on the arm, " I know that you are
mine ! Here, officer, carry this treacherous hypocrite to
the camp, and I will make him an example to the enemies
of America."
16. The British general had secretly offered an im-
mense sum to this man to make an appointment with the
hero at two o'clock, at which time he was to send a troop
of horse to secure him in their possession. Suspecting his
intentions, Washington had directed his own troop to equip
themselves as English cavalry, and arrive half an hour pre-
cisely before the time when he was expected.
17. They pursued their way to the camp, triumphing
at the sagacity of their commander, who had so astonish-
ingly defeated the machinations of the British general.
But the humanity of Washington prevailed over his sense
of justice. Overcome by the tears and prayers of the
family, he pardoned his treacherous friend, on condition of
his leaving the country forever ; which he accordingly did,
and his name sunk in oblivion.
LESSON LY.
* Te cum'' seh, a famous Indian warrior, who excited several of the tribes
to take up the liatchet on the side of the British, against the Amer-
icans, was killed at the memorable battle of the Thames. Oct 5,
1813.
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 191
EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH AN INDIAN.
BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.
THE moon was shining gloriously, when I approached a
deep glen, known by the name of Murder Creek. It
had received this fearful appellation in consequence of a
tragical event which occurred there, years ago. A party
of whites, consisting of about thirty persons, including
several women and children, who were camping out during
the night, were suddenly surprised by the Indians, and every
one of them butchered and scalped.
2. Weary, cold, wet, and hungry, I made up my mind
to spread my blanket, kindle my fire, and, after cooking my
bacon and making my coffee, to sleep till dawn beneath the
thick branches of the lofty trees which overshadowed me.
Having secured my horse by a little fence of saplings, and
given him his supper of corn-leaves, the only substitute
for hay, (a sufficient supply of which I had carried behind
me, tied on his back,) I prepared my own meal.
3. After I had finished my supper, and replenished my
fire with fuel, so laid on as to prevent its burning away too
rapidly, I spread my blanket, and lay down. But there
was an oppressive stillness around, which kept me awake
for some time. Insensibly, however, sleep began to steal
over me, and I was sinking into repose, when I heard a
rustling among the bushes, and the quick tread of feet. I
turned my head in the direction of the sound, and saw an
Indian seated on a blackened stump, gazing steadily at me.
I neither spoke nor moved ; and he was equally silent and
motionless. I do not think he was aware that I was awake
and looking at him.
4. He was tall, of a robust make ; his dress was elegant
192 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and picturesque, consisting of a sort of loose gown of red
and blue cotton, Avitli the hem highly ornamented, and
fastened round the waist by a richly-embroidered belt, in
which were his tomahawk, scalping-knife, and powder-
horn. Over his shoulders hung his quiver, and sheaf of
arrows ; on his head he wore a white cotton turban, from
behind which nodded a small plume of black feathers. In
his hand he held a gun ; and athwart his body, obliquely
crossing his left shoulder, and hanging below his right, his
bow was slung.
5. I had full leisure to note all these things ; for there
he sat, with his eyes fixed upon me. It was like fascina-
tion. I could only look at him and breathe softly, as if I
feared to disturb the warrior, I closed my eyes for a mo-
ment ; but, when I opened them again, the Indian had
disappeared. I was now convinced I had been mocked
with a waking dream ; for awake I zvas, and had been so
all the time. I Avas convinced, too, that, had his feet been
shod with moccasins of tlie cygnet's down, I must liave
lieard the tread as he retired, if the form had been real.
6. Under other circumstances, an occurrence like this
would have banished sleep for the rest of the night ; but,
in spite of what I felt, the fatigue of my day's journey sat
too heavily upon me to let me keep awake. In the very
midst of unquiet and feverish meditations, I fell asleep.
How long I continued in that state, I can not say ; but it
must have been three or four hours ; for, when I awoke,
my night fire was nearly burned out, and the moon was
vailed by black and tempestuous clouds, which had gath-
ered in the sky, threatening a storm. The first object that
met my eyes, as I looked around, was the Indian. He was
seated in the same attitude as before ; but his figure was
now only dimly and partially visible, from the long flashes
UNION FIFTH READER. 193
of red, dusky light thrown upon it at intervals by the
expiring embers.
7. I started up, grasping one of my pistols, which lay
by my side. He arose, and slowly advanced toward me.
I was on my feet in an instant ; and, as he came near, I
presented my pistol ; but, with one blow of his tomahawk,
he struck it from my hand so violently, that the piece dis-
charged itself as it fell to the ground. I endeavored to
possess myself of the other, when he sprang upon me,
seized me by the throat, and, with his right hand, held
aloft his murderous weapon. Expecting the fatal blow to
fall, I made signs of submission, and, both by my gestures
and looks, implored his mercy.
8. He surveyed me for an instant without speaking, then
quitted his hold, and, stooping down, took up my remaining
pistol, which he discharged in the air. I saw, by the quick
glances of his eyes, that he was looking about to ascertain
whether I had any other weapon of defense ; and I signi-
fied that I had not. He now lighted the pipe of his toma-
hawk * by the embers, gave two or three puffs himself, and
passed it to me : I did the same ; and, from that moment,
I knew I was safe in his hands. The symbol of peace and
hospitality had been reciprocated ; the pledge of good faith
had been given, which no Indian ever violated.
9. Hitherto not a word had been spoken. I knew not
a word of the Indian dialect, and did not suppose he under-
stood mine. While I was considering how I should make
myself understood, or comprehend the intentions of my
mysterious visitor, I was both surprised and delighted to
hear him address me in very good English.
* The tomahawk is sometimes so made as to serve for a pipe : the
hatchet-head has a little socket attached to it ; and the handle, being bored,
serves for the stem.
9
194 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
" The storm-clouds are collecting in their strength,"
said he, looking toward the sky. " Get ready. Fol-
low me."
" You speak my language ! " I exclaimed.
'' You hear I do. Get ready, and follow."
"Whither?"
He made no answer, but walked some paces off in the
direction he would go, and then stopped, as if waiting for
me. I obeyed. In a few minutes, my horse was saddled,
and I on its back ready to proceed.
10. When he saw me ready to follow, he immediately
entered a narrow hunter's path, that led into the thickest
part of the wood. It soon became so dark that I could not
see my guide, and he turned back to take the bridle of my
horse in his hand. With an unerring and rapid step he
kept the path, and, with the eyes of the lynx, he discerned
its course through the intricate windings of the forest. He
did not speak ; and I was too much absorbed in conjectures
as to what might be the issue of this adventure, to seek
frivolous discourse, while I knew that any attempt to antici-
pate the issue by questions would be futile. Besides, all
fears for my personal safety being allayed, I can hardly
say that I now felt a wish to forego the conclusion of a
business that had commenced so romantically.
11. We had proceeded in this manner about two miles,
when the Indian suddenly stopped ; and the next moment
I was startled by the report of his rifle, which was followed
by a loud howl or yell. Before I could inquire the cause
of what I heard, I was thrown to. the ground by the vio-
lent rearing of my horse ; but I soon recovered my feet,
and was then enabled to perceive by the faint glimmering
of the dawn, which now began to penetrate the dark, deep
gloom of the gigantic trees, that the Indian was in the act
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 195
of discharging an arrow at a wolf of prodigious size, which
seemed to be on the spring to seize its assailant.
12. The arrow flew to its mark with a whizzing sound,
and the bow sent forth a twang, which denoted tlie strength
of the arm that had dispatched it. It struck and pene-
trated the skull of the wolf; and the next moment a tre-
mendous blow from the tomahawk, given as he sprang
toward the ferocious animal, before it could recover from
tlie stunning shock of the arrow, cleft his head completely
in twain. The whole of this did not occupy more than a
minute ; with such dexterous rapidity did the Indian first
discharge his gun, then unsling his bow, and follow up its
use by the certain execution of the tomahawk.
13. The Indian reloaded his gun, to be ready, if neces-
sary, for another enterprise of the same kind ; and we
resumed our journey in silence. Having proceeded, as
nearly as I could judge, from three to four miles farther,
we at length came to a small cabin, or wigwam, erected by
the side of the path. It was of the simplest construction,
consisting merely of a few saplings stuck into the ground,
and covered on the top and sides with the bark of the
cedar-tree. Round the cabin there was about half an acre
of ground cleared, which was planted with Indian corn.
Here we stopped ; for this was tlie abode of my guide.
14. I dismounted, fastened my horse to a tree, and fol-
lowed the Indian into the hut, whose only furniture seemed
to be a bed of buffalo and wild deer skins. I perceived,
liowever, that the walls of the hut were huno; round with
'ifles, tomahawks, scalping-knives, powder-horns, bows,
irrows, and deer, buffalo, and bear skins. But I will not
Lttempt to describe what were my feelings at the moment,
when I saw and counted, on one side of the cabin, no less
than fifteen human scalps, denoting, by their size and
196 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES.
appearance, that they had belonged to persons of almost
every age, from the child of three years to the gray victim
of threescore and ten.
15. One, in particular, attracted my attention, from the
beauty of its long, glossy auburn hair, which hung down
in profusion, and which had evidently been severed from
the head of some female, perhaps young, and lovely, and
beloved. I could easily distinguish, too, that all of them
were the scalps of white people, who had been slain, I had
no doubt, by the being in whose power, utterly helpless
and alone, I then was. My heart grew faint and sick at
the grisly array, and I turned from it, but with a resolution
to betray as little as I possibly could, by my manner, the
emotions it had excited.
16. "^ Sit," exclaimed the Indian, pointing to the bed of
buffalo and wild deer skins in one corner of the cabin. I
did so ; while he, with the same stern silence which he had
all along maintained, spread before me various preparations
of Indian corn, wild venison, and not an unpalatable dish,
made of the flour of Indian corn, gathered while green,
mixed with honey and Avater. He seated himself by my
side, and partook of the meal. I, too, ate, and with a
relish, after my morning's ride, in spite of many uneasy
reflections, which I could not repress.
17. " You are a white man, — I found you sleeping, —
jrou were armed, — I made you defenseless, and then I
pflered you the pipe of peace, A white man found my
FATHER defenseless and asleep, and shot him as he slept.
Four snows passed, and I returned one evening from hunt-
ing, when I found my cabin burned down. My mother
alone sat weeping and lamenting among the ruins. I could
not separate the bones of my children and my wife from
the common heap of blackened ashes which marked the
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 197
spot where my home had stood when I went forth in tha
morning. I did not weep ; but I comforted my mother all
that night ; and, when the sun arose, I said, — ' Let us to-
the wilderness. We are now the last of our race. We
are alone, and the desert offers its solitude for such.'
18. " I left for the lake of a Thousand Islands, carry^
ing with me only a handful of the ashes with which was
mingled the dust of my children and my wife. In my
progress hither, I visited the great warrior Tecumseh.*
I joined him. I was his companion. I sat with him in
the assembly of the great council, when, by the power of
his talk, he obtained a solemn declaration that they would
take up the hatchet at his call. And they did; and I
fought by his side. When the warrior perished, the hope
perished with him of gathering the Indian nations in some
spot where the white people could not follow, and where
we might live as our fathers had done.
19. " Tecumseh fell. I left my brethren, and I built
my cabin in the woods. It was in the season of the 'green
corn, when the thank-offering is made to the Great Spirit,
that a white man came to my door. He had lost his path,
and the sun was going down. My mother shook ; for the
fear of death was upon her. She spoke to me. Her words
were like the hurricane that sweeps through the forest, and
opens for itself a way among the hills. The stranger was
tlio same that had found my father defenseless and asleep,
and who shot him as he slept. Come with me, and learn
the rest."
20. The Indian arose, went forth, and entered the for^
est ; I followed, utterly incapable of saying a word. There
Avas something so strange and overpowering in what I had
seen and heard, — so obscure and exciting in what I might
still have to see and hear, — that I could only meditate
198 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
fearfully and silently upon the whole. The course he
now took was indicated by no path, but lay through thick
underwood, and amono; tano-led bushes.
21. At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from
the cabin, I observed a small stage, constructed between
four trees standing near each other, and not more than
four or five feet from the ground. On this stage I saw a
human figure extended, which, as I afterwards discovered,
was the body of the Indian's mother. By her side was a
red earthen vessel or pitcher, containing the bones of his
fiither, and that " handful of ashes " which he had brought
with him from the shores of Lake Ontario, under the
impulse of a sentiment so well known to exist among
the Indian tribes, — tlie desire of mingling their own dust,
in death, with that of their fathers arid their kindred. I
noticed, however, that my guide passed this simple, sylvan
sepulcher, without once turning his eyes toward it.
22. We continued our progress through the forest ; and
I soon began to perceive we were ascending a rising
ground, though the dense foliage prevented me from dis-
tinguishing the hight or the extent of the acclivity. Pres-
ently I heard the loud din and roar of waters ; and we had
proceeded in the direction of the sound, whose increasing
noise indicated our gradual approximation to it, for rather
more than half a mile, when the Indian stopped, and I
found myself on the brink of a tremendous whirlpool. I
looked down from a hight of nearly two hundred feet into
the deep ravine below, through which the vexed stream
whirled •till it escaped through another chasm, and plunged
into the recesses of the wood.
23. It was an awful moment! The profound gloom of
the place ; the uproar of the eddying vortex beneath ; the
dark and rugged abyss which yawned before me, where
UNION FIFTH READER. 199
huge trunks of trees might be seen, tossing and writhing
about hke things of Hfe, tormented by the angry spirit of
the waters ; the unknown purpose of the being who had
brouglit me hither, and who stood by my side in sullen
silence, prophetic, to my mind, of a thousand horrible
imaginings, — formed, altogether, a combination of circum-
stances that might have summoned fear into a bolder heart
than mine, at that instant.
24. At length the Indian spoke : —
" Into this gulf I plunged the murderer of my father."
As he uttered these words, he seized me firmly with his
sinewy arm. We were so near the edge of the precipice,
and his manner was so energetic, I might almost say con-
vulsed, from the recollection of his consummating act of
revenge, that I felt no small alarm lest an accidental move-
ment might precipitate us botli into the frightful chasm,
independently of a very uncomfortable misgiving as to
what his real intentions mio;ht be while holdino: me so
firmly.
25. Then, fixing his eyes steadfastly upon me, he said,
— "I tracked you, last night, from the going-down of the
sun. Twice my gun was leveled ; twice I drew my ar-
row's head to its point ; once my hatchet glittered in the
moon. But my arm failed me, and there was a sadness
over my spirits. I watched you as you slept. Not even
the thought, that so my father slept, could make me strike.
I left you, and in the deep forest cast myself to the earth,
to ask the Great Spirit what he would have me do, if it
was not permitted that I should shed your blood. A voice
in the air seemed to say to me, — ' Let him return.' "
The Indian then released me from his grasp, conducted
me back to his cabin, furnished me with food for my jour-
ney, and bade me depart.
200 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
LESSON LYI.
CHOICE EXTRACTS.
DECAY OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS.
CHARLES SPRAGUE.
AS a race, they have withered from the land. Their
arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their
cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since
gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast dying away
to the untrodden West. Slowly and sadly they climb the
distant mountains, and read their doom in the settino; sun.
They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is press-
ing them away ; they must soon hear the roar of the last
wave, which will settle over them forever. Ages hence,
the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing
city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed
remains, and wonder to what manner of person they be-
longed. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of
their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude
virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate
as a people.
IL
LAMENT OF AN INDIAN CHIEF.
I WILL go to my tent, and lie down in despair ;
I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ;
I will sit on the shore, where the hurricane blows,
And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes ;
I will weep for a season on bitterness fed.
For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ;
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 201
But tliey died not by hunger, or lingering decay, —
The steel of the white man hath swept them away :
My wife, and my children, — oh, spare me the tale ! — '
For who is there left that is kin to Geehale !
III.
EFFECTS OF OUR DEEDS.
1. The common and popular notion is, that death is the
end of man, as far as this world is concerned ; that the
grave which covers his fonii, covers and keeps within its
chambers all his influence ; and that the instant he has
ceased to breathe, that instant the man has ceased to act.
It is not so ; it is a popular mistake. We die, but leave
an influence behind us that survives ; the echoes of our
words are still repeated and reflected along the ages.
2. A man has two immortalities : one he leaves behind
him, and it Avalks the earth, and still represents him ;
another he carries with him to that lofty sphere, the pres-
ence and glory of. God. " Every man is a missionary, now
and forever, for good or evil, whether he intends it or not.
He may be a blot, racjiating his dark influence outward, to
the very circumference of society ; or he may be a bless-
ing, spreading benedictions over the length and breadth
of the world ; but a blank he can not be. The seed sown
in life springs up m harvests of blessings, or harvests of
IV.
MAN'S MORTALITY.
S. WASTELL.
1. Like as the damask rose you see,
Or as the blossom on the tree.
Or like the dainty flower of May,
202 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES.
Or like the morning to the day,
Or Hke the sun, or hke the shade,
Or hke the gourd which Jonas had, —
E'en such is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.
The rose 'withers, the blossom blasteth.
The flower fades, the morning hasteth,
The sun sets, the shadow flies.
The gourd consumes ; and man — he dies.
2 Like to the grass that's newly sprung,
Or like a tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's here to-day,
Or like the pearled dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the sino-ino; of a swan, —
E'en such is man, who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death.
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended,
The hour is short, the span not long,
The swan's near death, — man's life is done.
V.
SAVING FOR OLD AGE.
1. No one denies that it is wise to make a provision for
old age ; but we are not all agreed as to the land of pro-
vision it is best to lay up. Certainly, we shall want money;
for a destitute old man is, indeed, a pitiful sight. There-
fore, save money^ by all means. But an old man needs
just that particular kind of strength which young men are
most apt to waste. Many a foolish young' man will throw
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 203
away, on a holiday, a certain amount of nervous energy,
wliicli he will never feel the want of till he is seventy ;
and then^ how much he will need it ! It is curious, but
true, that a bottle of champagne, at twenty, may intensify
the rheumatism of threescore. It is a fact, that overtask-
ing the eyes at fourteen m?ay necessitate the aid of specta-
cles at forty, instead of eighty.
2. We advise our young readers to be saving of health
for their old age ; for the maxim holds good with regard to
health as to money, '' Waste not, want not." It is the
greatest mistake to suppose that any violation of the laws
of health can escape its penalty. Nature forgives no sin,
no error. She lets off the offender for fifty years some-
times, but she catches him at last, and inflicts the punish-
ment just when^ where^ and how he feels it most. Save up
for old age ; but save knowledge ; save the recollection of
good deeds and innocent pleasure ; save pure thoughts ;
save friends ; save rich stores of that kind of wealth
which time can not diminish, nor death take away.
VI.
BE FIRM.
MRS. S. C. MAYO.
Be firm ! whatever tempts thy soul
To loiter ere it reach its goal.
Whatever siren voice would draw
Thy heart from duty and its law.
Oh, that distrust ! Go bravely on.
And, till the victor-crown be won,
Be firm !
204 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Firm when thy conscience is assailed,
Firm when the star of hope is vailed,
Firm in defying wrong and sin,
Firm in life's conflict, toil, and din,
Firm in the path by martyrs trod, —
And oh, in love 'to man and God
Be firm !
VIL
THE YOUNG VOYAGER.
ALBERT BARNES.
1. A YOUNG man, just entering on life, embarks on an
unknown and perilous voyage. If the interest of the fact
itself will not suffer by the comparison, his condition may
be likened to that -of a ship, that has never yet tried the
waves and storms, as it first leaves the port. This world,
so full of beautiful things, furnishes few objects so lovely
as such a vessel, when, with her sails all spread, and with
a/propitious breeze, she sails out of the harbor.
2. But who can tell what that vessel is to encounter ;
into what unknown seas she may yet be drifted ; between
what masses of ice she may be crushed ; on what hidden
rocks she may impinge ; what storms may whistle through
her shrouds, and carry away her tall masts ; or on what
coasts her broken timbers may be strewed ? Now, as the
waves gently tap her sides, nothing can be more beautiful,
or more safe ; but storms arise on that ocean Avhich now
looks so calm, and in those storms her beautifully-modeled
fonn, her timbers framed together to defy the tempest, her
ropes and her canvas, will avail nothing ; and, if she is
saved, none but He can do it who '' rides on the whirl-
wind and directs the storm."
insriON FIFTH EEADEE. 205
VIII.
VOYAGE OF LIFR
HENRY WARE, JUN.
1. Life is a sea, as fathomless,
As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes
As calm and beautiful. The light of Heaven
Smiles on it, and 'tis decked with every hue
Of glory and of joy. Anon, dark clouds
Arise, contending winds of fate go forth,
And Hope sits weeping o'er a general wreck.
And thou must sail upon this sea, a long,
Eventful voyage. The wise may suffer wreck,
The foolish 7nu8t,
2, O ! then be early Avise !
Learn from the mariner his skillful art
To ride upon the waves, and catch the breeze,
And dare the threatening storm, and trace a path
'Mid countless dangers, to the destined port,
Unerringly secure. O ! learn fi*om him
To station quick-eyed Prudence at the helm,
To guard thy sail from Passion's sudden blasts,
And make Religion thy magnetic guide.
Which, though it trembles as it lowly lies,
Points to the light that changes not, — in Heaven.
IX.
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE.
>rooniE.
1. Pause for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to con-
template the universe in which you dwell, and tlie glory
of Him who created it. What a scene of wonders is liere
206 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
presented to your view I If beheld with a religious eye,
what a temple for the worship of the Almighty ! Tho
earth is spread out before you, reposing amid the desola-
tion of winter, or clad in the verdure of the spring, — smil-
ing in the beauty of summer, or loaded with autumnal
fruit, — opening, to an endless variety of beings, the treas-
ures of their Maker's goodness, and ministering subsist-
ence and comfort to every creature that lives.
2. The heavens, also, declare the glory of the Lord.
The Sun Cometh forth from his chambers to scatter the
shades of night, inviting you to the renewal of your labors,
adorning the face of Nature, and, as he advances to his
meridian brightness, cherishing every herb and flower that
springe th from the bosom of the earth. Nor, when he re-
tires again from your view, doth he leave the Creator
without a witness. He only hides his own splendor for a
while to disclose to you a more glorious scene, — to show
you the immensity of space filled with worlds unnumbered,
that your imaginations may wander, without a limit, in the
vast creation of God.
X.
CHEER UP.
C) 1. Cheer up ! my friend, cheer up, I say ;
Give not thy heart to gloom, to sorrow ;
Though clouds enshroud thy path to-day,
The sun will shine again to-morrow.
2, Oh ! look not with desponding sigh
Upon these little trifling troubles ;
Cheer up ! you'll see them by and by
. Just as they are, — like empty bubbles.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 207
8, So come, cheer up I my friend, cheer up !
This is a world of love and beauty ;
And you may quaff its sweetest cup
If you but bravely do your duty.
4. Put gloom and sadness far away,
And, smiling, bid good-by to sorrow ;
The clouds that shroud your path to-day
Will let the sunhght in to-morrow.
LESSON LYII.
* Fox, Charles James, a distinguished statesman and orator, was born in
London, England, 1749; and died 1806. So early were his talents
developed, that he was elected a member of Parliament before he was
twenty years of age. See Sanders' Sixth Reader, p. 487.
'Jones, Sin William, whose researches in Oriental literature, and whose
surpassing genius as a translator from the Eastern languages, have
rendered his name illustrious throughout the world, was born in Lon-
don, 1746; and died 1794. He was also eminent as a mathematician
and a jurist.
* Her' cu les, a hero of antiquity, flibled to have been the son of Jupiter
and Alcmena, and celebrated for his great strength.
* De mos' the NE8, the greatest of Grecian orators, was born 382 B.C. ; and
died 322 B.C. Philip, King of Macedon, having betrayed his hostility
to the power of Athens, and to the liberties of the other Grecian
States, it was to arouse his countrymen ngainst the crafty invader that
Demosthenes pronounced his Philippics, a series of the most splendid
and spirited orations. ^
' Sixer' i dan, Richard Brinsley, an English dramatist and politician,
was born in Dublin, 1751 ; and died 1816. He was elected a member
of Parliament, and in 1787 supported the charge against Warren
Hastings, in a speech which is regarded as one of the very best of his
life.
''Brougham, Henry, late lord-chancellor of England, was born in Edin-
burgh in 1778. He was one of the founders of " The Edinburgh Re-
view," and among its ablest contributors ; and is regarded as one of the
most remarkable of the public men in Englstnd.
208 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
' Ames, Fisher, an American statesman and orator, was born in Dedham,
Mass., April 9, 1756; and died July 4, 1808.
^Hen'ry, Patrick, an American statesman and orator, was born in Yir
ginia, 1736 ; and died 1799. His early opportunities of education werft
limited ; but he rose above all impediments to great distinction, and
became one of the most eloquent men of any age. He was a strenu.
ous advocate for American independence.
® White' field, George, one of the most eloquent, devoted, and success-
ful ministers of Christ, since the days of the apostles, was born ic
Gloucester, England, 1714. He stated in his memorandum-book, that,
" during a period embracing thirty-four years, he preached upwards of
eighteen thousand sermons, crossed the Atlantic seven times, and trav
eled thousands of miles both in Britain and America."
*® Hume, David, author of a celebrated history of England, was born at
Edinburgh, 1711 ; and died 1776.
EARNESTNESS.
ANON.
** Life is not measured by the time we live."
THE amount of work done, or good accomplished, by an
individual, is not measured by the number of days, or
months, or years, he may have lived. Some men accom-
plish much in a short time. They are burning and shining
lights. There is a point and power in all they think, 'and.
say, and do. They may not have lived many years ; they
may have passed away quickly from the earth ; but they
have finished their work. They have left " footprints on
the sands of time." Their bodies sleep in peace, but their
names live evermore. They have lived long, because they
have lived to some good purpose ; they have lived long,
because they have accomplished the true ends of life by
living wisely and well ; and
" That life is long which answers life's great end."
2. The essential element of success in every great un-
dertaking, is expressed by a single word ; and that word is
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 209
EARNESTNESS. It Contains the true secret of nearly all the
wonderful successes which have astonished the world. It
solves the problem of nearly all the heroes whose achieve-
ments are recorded on the pages of history, and whose
names will live forever in the remembrance of mankind.
In all past time, how few individuals do we find, who have
risen to any considerable distinction, and gained an endur-
ing reputation, and become truly great, and have left their
mark upon the age in which they lived, who were not
EARNEST MEN.
3. One of the most prolific of living writers, whose
books astonish us by the vast research and varied learning
which they display, was once asked how, in the midst of
the duties of a laborious profession, he had been able to
accomplish so much. He rephed, — " By being a whole
man to one thing at a time," — in other words, by being
an earnest man. The celebrated Charles James Fox^
once said, that " no man ever went successfully through
with any great enterprise, whose earnestness did not
amount almost to enthusiasm." There are so many ob-
stacles in the way of any great achievement, that none
but the earnest and enthusiastic will persevere, and hold
on to its final accomplishment. The irresolute, the timid,
the phlegmatic, after a few faint efforts, will give up in
despair.
4. It would be easy to furnish examples of the practical
power of earnestness almost indefinitely. The world is
full of them. Look at Christopher Columbus. Consider
the disheartening difficulties and vexatious delays he had
to encounter, — the doubts of the skeptical, the sneers of
the learned, the cavils of the cautious, and the opposition,
or at least the indifference, of nearly all. And then the
dangers of an untried, unexplored ocean. Is it by any
14
210 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
means probable lie would have persevered, had he not
possessed that earnest enthusiasm, which was character-
istic of the great discoverer' ?
5. What mind can conceive or tongue can tell the great
results which have followed, and will continue to follow in
all coming time, from what this single ir dividual accom-
plished ? A new continent has been disc overed ; nations
planted, whose wealth and power already begin to eclipse
those of the Old World, and whose emj)ires stretch far
away beneath the setting sun. Instituti )ns of learning,
liberty, and religion, have been establishe i on the broad
basis of equal rights to all. It is tiTie, America might
have been discovered by what we call som 3 fortunate acci-
dent. But, in all probability, it would have remained
unknown for centuries, had not some earnest man^ like
Columbus, arisen, whose adventurous spirit would be
roused, rather than repressed, by difficulty and danger.
6. John Howard, the philanthropist, is another remarka-
ble illustration of the power of intense earnestness joined
with great decision of character. '-'• He spent his whole
life in taking the gauge of human misery," — in visiting
prisons and penitentiaries, and the abodes of poverty and
wretchedness. He sought to alleviate human suffering
wherever he found it, — to ameliorate the condition of the
degraded, the distressed, and the unfortunate, by all the
means in his power. In the prosecution of his object, diffi-
culties did not discourage, nor did dangers appall him. He
traveled repeatedly on foot over most of Europe, submit-
ting to almost every hardship and privation ; and we are
told that the existence of the plague, even, did not deter
him from visiting any place where he thought suffering
humanity could be benefited by his presence.
7. Sir William Jones,^ who acquired the knowledge of
UNION FIFTH READER. 211
twenty-eight different languages, when asked how his won-
derful attainments in almost every branch of learning had
been made, was accustomed to reply, — " Only by industry
and regular application." And New^ton, whose scientific
discoveries will ever continue to delight and astonish man-
kind, ascribed his success, not to superior genius, but to
superior industry^ — to the habit and power he had ac-
quired of holding his mind steadily, and for a long time, to
the study of an involved and difficult subject. '' The dis-
covery of gravitation, the grand secret of the universe,
was not whispered in his ear by an oracle. It did not
visit him in a morning dream. It did not fall into his idle
lap, a windfall from the clouds. But he reached it by self-
denying toil, — by midnight study, — by the large com-
mand of accurate science, and by bending all his powers
in one direction, and keeping them thus bent."
8. So, in every occupation of life requiring intellectual,
or even physical exertion, earnestness is an essential ele-
ment of success. Without it, a man may have the strength
of Hercules,^ or the mind of Newton, and yet accomplish
nothing. He may live, and die, and yet leave behind him
neither name nor memorial. Was there ever a man, of
any trade or profession, eminently successful, who did not
apply himself in earnest to his business' ? Every poet,
whose Muse has clothed
" Whatever the heart of man admires and loves
With music and with numbers,"
whose breathinor thouo;hts and winijed woixls have thrilled
the world, from the blind old bard* of Scio to the modern
Homer, " whose soul was like a star, and dwelt apart,"
has been an earnest man. Every orator, whose burning
* Homer. Seep. 106.
212 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
eloquence has swayed listening thousands, just as the for-
est is swayed by the summer's wind, has been an earnest
man,
9. Demosthenes^ was in earnest when he poured forth
his fervid Philippics in ancient Athens. Paul was in ear-
nest, when, reasoning of righteousness, temperance, and a
judgment to come, Felix trembled before him. Sheridan^
was in earnest at the trial of Hastings, when all parties
were held chained and spell-bound by his eloquence.
Brougham^ was in earnest, when, as we are told, "he
thundered and lightened in the House of Commons, until
the knio;hts of the shire absolutely clunor to the benches for
support, the ministers cowered behind the speaker's chair
for shelter, and the voting members started from their
slumbers in the side galleries, as if the last trumpet were
ringing in their ears." And so of our own Ames^ and
Henry .^ They were in earnest, Avhen, seeking to arouse
their countrymen to united resistance of British oppres-
sion, they assured them that they " could almost hear the
clanking of their chains ; " " that the blood of their sons
should fatten their cornfields, and the war-whoop of the
Indian should waken the sleep of the cradle." And
because they were in earnest, their words were words
of fire.
10. Earnestness was the true secret of Whitefield's^
wonderful eloquence. He won the admiration of the
skeptical Hume,^^ not by his logic or his learning, but by
his fervid, earnest eloquence. David Garrick, the cele-
brated actor, was once asked, by a clergyman, Avhy the
speaking of actors produced so much greater effect than
that of clergymen. "Because," said Garrick, "we utter
fiction as if it were truth, while you utter truth as if it
were fiction ; " thus clearly implying that earnestness is the
very soul of all effective eloquence.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 213
LESSON LVIII.
INCENTIVES TO CULTURE.
R. F. TROWBRIDGE.
niHERE is no talent, like method; and no accomplishment
_L that man can possess, like perseverance. They will
overcome every obstacle ; and there is no position which a
young man may not hope to win or secnre, when, guided
by these principles, he sets out upon the great highway of
life. In after years, the manners and habits of the man are
not so readily adapted to any prescribed course to which
they have been unaccustomed. But in youth the habit of
S7/stem, method, and indmtry, is as easily formed as others ;
and the benefits and enjoyments which result from it,
are more than the wealth and honors which they always
secure.
2. Industry or idleness are habits, each as easily acquired
as the other, but infinitely different in their results. The
steady action of the one is a continuous source of gratifica-
tion and enjoyment ; the painful solicitudes and uncertain-
ties of the other dwai-f the intellect, and vitiate the heart.
Either becomes habitual without effort, and the habit be-
comes fixed ere we are aware of its presence.
3. A man does not know in what path his ambition may
lead him, until he has enlightened his mind by reading, by
thought, and observation. In our country, he is taught
by custom and by example to look about him while yet a
youth, and study the chances for success as they may arise
around him. He is too liable to fall into a listless habit of
waiting for some fortuitous circumstance to occur, by
which he may make sudden wealth, or spring to an envia-
ble position, without the ordinary labors to secure them.
214 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
4. Men of genuine ambition never wait for uncertain
events. They commence, as all men have to commence,
with the very first steps of the foundation ; and while others,
of perhaps better abilities and more fortunate condition,
are nursing their morbid hopes and fading expectations,
they build up the basis of a fortune and reputation, to
which the less energetic and useful may aspire in vain.
True men create circumstances, which, in turn, aid them.
5. Frankness, candor, and sincerity, will always win
respect and friendship, and will always retain them ; and
the consciousness of having such a treasure, and of being
worthy of it, is more than wealth and honors. A man
quickly finds when he is unworthy of public respect or
private friendship ; and the leaden weight he carries ever
in his callous heart, can not be lightened by any success or
any gratification he can secure. But the man of upright
character, and proper self-respect, can never meet with ad-
versities which can deprive him of that higher happiness
which rests in his own breast, and which no disasters of
business, or calamities of occupation, or loss of wealth, can
ever reach or disturb.
6. Education is not confined to books alone. The world
with its thousand interests and occupations is a great school.
But the recorded experience and wisdom of others may be
of the greatest aid and benefit to us. We can look about
US to-day, and see many who have brought the light of
that intelligence which has been the guiding-star of others
to bear upon their own paths, and by its aid have achieved
an enviable position among men. Honor lies in doing well
whatever we find to do ; and the world estimates a man's
abilities in accordance with his success in whatever busi-
ness or profession he may engage.
7. In this great land of ours, what opportunities invite
UNION FIFTH READER. ' 215
the attention and stimulate the ambition of the American
citizen ! Spreading out her area of civilization and of com-
merce over the imperial dominions of this vast continent,
what fields of enterprise are constantly opening, and what
opportunities for wealth, or honor, or fame, are continually
developing before him ! What cities and ports and avenues
are to be built, what new Lowells and Saratogas are to
arise, what Bostons and New Yorks are to spring from
the commerce of that western shore ! Who are to be the
architects of this imperial undertaking ? Whose minds are
to conceive, and whose hands are to construct, these mag-
nificent fabrics of national and individual prosperity and
power ?
8. Surely the generation which is now coming upon the
theater of action, has this great mission to perform. To
them is held out a prize such as the world has never before
offered, to stimulate the pride, patriotism, and ambition of
any people. And they will profit by the opportunity. To
those who have prepared themselves for the duties and the
labors of this eminent undertaking, will fall the honors
and rewards of the enterprise. And to their charge will
be intrusted the honor and integrity of that flag, which,
first waved along a narrow strip of the wild Atlantic coast,
but which, if we are true to our own interests, will bo
hailed in every land and upon every sea as the emblem of
earth's noblest nation.
LESso:^r Lix.
"AND THEN?"
An excellent effect will be produced by having one member of the class
ask the question, "And Thex 1 " at the close of each stanza, and the same
member read the closing stanza in a very emphatic manner. Or it may be
read by the whole class in concert.
216 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
1. A YOUTH told proudly his hopes and plans,
iJL With his own strong hand all his future drew.
To the calm old man, earth-tired, Heaven-bound,
Who answered, from all that his great heart knew,
Only these words, "And Then'?" —
2, With a steady foot and a willing hand,
I will cHmb to Earth's treasure-hold,
And claim my share of the wealth she hoards
For her favored, — the brave and the bold.
" And Then'?" —
8. And then, w^ith this w^and in my happy hand,
I'll gather her gems at will ;
I'll summon each draught of her pleasure-fount
Till it fail, or my goblet I fill.
"And Then'?" —
4. Oh ! then I'll try Fame, and I'll coax till I win
From the noble old laurel a wreath ;
This I'll cherish and keep, 'tis Earth's choicest gift.
And its life-dew her balmiest breath.
" And Then'?" —
5. I'll be kindly, and share of my wealth and my joy ;
So I'll bind many souls to my own :
For I'd sooner be prince of a dozen warm hearts
Than a monarch of many a throne.
" And then'?" —
6. Why, then I'll be getting to staid middle age.
And the world will be Eden no more ;
But I'll choose me an Eve, and build me a home,
And be found at my own open door,
"And Then'?" —
UNION FIFTH READER. 211
7. Tlien^ — then I'll grow old of a quaint old age,
In the midst of my pleasure and peace ;
So muffled in treasure, and comfort, and love,
That to my ear Earth's discord shall cease.
"And Then'?" —
80 I'll grow older and older ; and then, I suppose,
Life and I will grow weary — and — why —
As my fathers have done, as my children must do.
So Z, in my ripeness, shall die !
"And Then'?"
9. Oh ! then will the vail of Death's portal be rent,
And unto each soul shall be given
The awards of this life, howe'er it was spent, —
Undying regrets, or the joys of Heaven ;
Then, and forever then I
LESSOlSr LX.
WHAT IS LIFE?
CHARLES D. DRAKE.
AN Eagle flew up in his heavenward flight.
Far out of the reach of human sight.
And gazed on the earth from the lordly hight
Of his sweeping and lone career :
"And this is Life ! " he exultingly screams,
" To soar without fear where the lightning gleams.
And look unblenched on the sun's dazzling beams.
As they blaze through the upper sphere."
10
218 SANDEKS' UNION SEEIES.
2. A Lion sprang forth from his bloody bed,
And roared till it seemed he would wake the dead ;
And man and beast from him wildly fled,
As though there were death in the tone :
"And this is Life ! " he triumpliantly cried,
" To hold my domain in. the forest wide,
Imprisoned by naught but the ocean's tide,
And the ice of the frozen zone."
8. " It is Life,'' said a Whale, " to swim the deep ;
O'er hills submerged and abysses to sweep.
Where the gods of ocean their vigils keep,
In the fathomless gulfs below ;
To bask on the bosom of tropical seas,
And inhale the fragrance of Ceylon's breeze,
Or sport where the turbulent waters freeze,
In the cHmes of eternal snow."
4. " It is Life," says a tireless Albatross,
" To skim through the air when the dark waves toss
In the storm that has swept the earth across.
And never to wish for rest ;
To sleep on the breeze as it softly flies,
My perch in the air, my shelter the skies.
And build my nest on the billows that rise
And break with a pearly crest."
6. " It is Life," says a wild Gazelle, " to leap
From crag to crag of the mountainous steep,
Where the cloud's icy tears in purity sleep,
Like the marble brow of death ;
To stand unmoved on the outermost verge
Of the perilous hight, and watch the surge
Of the waters beneath, that onward urge.
As if sent by a demon's breath."
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 219
6. " It is Life," I hear a Butterfly say,
" To revel in blooming gardens by day,
And nestle in cups of flowerets gay,
When the stars the heavens illume ;
To steal from the rose its delicate hue.
And sip from the hyacinth glittering dew,
And catch from beds of the violet blue
The breath of its gentle perfume."
7. " It is Life," a majestic War-horse neighed,
" To prance in the glare of battle and blade,
Where thousands in terrible death are laid,
And scent of the streaming gore ;
To dash, unappalled, through the fiery heat,
And trample the dead beneath my feet,
'Mid the trumpet's clang, and the drum's loud beat.
And the hoarse artillery's roar."
8. " It is Life," said a Savage, with hideous yell,
" To roam unshackled the mountain and dell,
And feel my bosom with majesty swell.
As the primal monarch of all ;
To gaze on the earth, the sky, and the sea.
And feel that, like them, I am chainless and free,
And never, while breathing, to bend the knee,
But at the Manitou's* call."
9. An aged Christian went tottering by.
And white was his hair, and dim was his eye,
^: • And his wasted spirit seemed ready to fly,
As he said, with faltering breath,
* Man' I Tou, {man' i too,) a spirit, god, or devil, of the American In-
dians.
220 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
" It is Life to move from the heart's first throes,
Through youth and manhood to age's snows,
In a ceaseless circle of joys and woes, —
It is Life to prepare for Death ! "
lesso:n^ lxl
^ Gib' BON, Edward, the celebrated English historian, was bom at Putney,
1737 ; and died in London, 1794. His " Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire " is a work of great merit, and its extraordinary union of ex-
cellences — variety, correctness, and vigor of narrative and descrip-
tion — deepens the regret with which we contemplate the skeptical
taint that is diffused through its pages.
^ Leib'nitz, Godfrey William, an eminent mathematician and philoso-
pher, was born at Leipsic, 1646 ; and died at Hanover, 1716. Within
the vast region of speculative thought, there was no department un-
visited by the ever-living activity of Leibnitz, or unillumined by his brill-
iancy. He has left the firm impress of his intellect upon the minds
of jurists, historians, theologians, naturalists, mathematicians, and
metaphysicians of the highest order.
* Pas' cal, Blaise, an eminent geometrician and writer, was born in
France, 1623 ; and died 1662. During a protracted illness, he had such
an overwhelming sense of the importance of religion, that he resolved
to renounce all his scientific and secular pursuits, and to apply his mind
exclusively to the study of theology, and the means by which* he might
promote the best interests of his felloAv-men.
* Cic' E RO, Marcus Tullius, the most famous of Roman orators, was bom
106 before Christ, and was murdered by order of Mark Antony, 43 b.c.
^ Raph' a el, Santi or Sanzo, the most celebrated of Italian painters, was
born April 6, 1483 ; and died at Rome, on his birthday, April 6, 1520,
aged thirty-seven years. Raphael's greatest works are unrivaled, and
his fame soars above that of all his competitors, not excepting Michael
Angelo himself. He is universally acclaimed the Prince of Painters,
and chiefly for those lofty sentimental qualities of his works, which all
can feel, but few describe.
« Homes and Milton. See notes pp. 106, 107.
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 221
PLEASURES OF KNOWLEDGE.
SYDNEY SMITH.
IT is NOBLE to seek Truth, and it is beautiful to find it.
It is the feeling of the human heart, that knowledge is
better than riches ; and it is deeply and sacredly true. To
mark the course of human passions as they have flowed on
in the ages that are past ; to see why nations have risen,
and why they have fallen ; to speak of heat, and light,
and the winds ; to know what man has discovered in the
heavens above, and in the earth beneath ; to hear the
chemist unfold the marvelous properties that the Creator
has locked up in a speck of earth ; to be told that there
are worlds so distant from our own, that the quicknirss of
light, traveling from the world's creation, has never yet
reached us ; to wander in the creations of poetry, and
grow warm again with that eloquence which swayed the
democracies of the Old World ; to go up with great rea-
soners to the First Cause of all, and to perceive, in the
midst of all this dissolution, and decay, and cruel separa-
tion, that there is one thing unchangeable, indestructible,
and everlasting, — it is worth while, in the days of our
youth, to strive hard for this great discipline ; to pass sleep-
iest nights for it ; to give up for it laborious days ; to spurn
for it present pleasures ; to endure for it afflicting poverty ;
to wade for it through darkness, and sorrow, and contempt,
as the great spirits of the world have done in all ages, and
in all times.
2. I appeal to the experience of any man who is in the
habit of exercising his mind vigorously and well, whether
there is not a satisfaction in it, which tells him he has been
acting up to one of the great objects of his existence. The
end of nature has been answered : his faculties have done
222 SANDERS* XJNIOK SERIES.
that which they were created to do, — not languidly occu-
pied upon trifles, nor enervated by sensual gratification,
but exercised in that toil which is so congenial to their
nature, and so worthy of their strength.
3. A life of knowledge is not often a life of injury and
crime. Whom does such a man oppress ? with whose hap-
piness does he interfere? whom does his ambition destroy?
and whom does his fraud deceive ? In the pursuit of sci-
ence he injures no man^ and. In the acquisition, he does good
to all. A man who dedicates his life to knowledge, be-
comes habituated to pleasure which carries with it no re-
proach : and there is one security that he will never love
that pleasure which is paid for by anguish of heart. His
pleasures are all cheap, all dignified, and all innocent;
and, as far as any human being can expect permanence in
this changing scene, he has 'secured a happiness which no
malignity of fortune can ever take away, but which must
cleave to him while he lives, ameliorating every good, and
diminishing every evil of his existence. . . .
4. The prevailing idea with young people has been, the
incompatibility of labor and genius; and, therefore, from
the fear of being thought dull, they have thought it neces-
sary to remain ignorant. I have seen, at school and at
college, a great many young men completely destroyed by
having been so unfortunate as to produce an excellent copy
of verses. Their genius being now established, all that re-
mained for them to do was to act up to the dignity of the
character ; and as this dignity consisted in reading nothing
new, in forgetting what they had already read, and in pre-
tending to be acquainted with all subjects by a sort of
off-hand exertion of talents, they soon collapsed into the
most frivolous and insignificant of men.
5. It would be an extremely profitable thing to draw up
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 223
a short and well-authenticated account of the habits of
study of the most celebrated writers, with whose style of
literary industry we happen to be most acquainted. Gib-
bon^ was in his study every morning, winter and summer,
at six o'clock ; Mr. Burke was the most laborious and in-
defatigable of human beings ; Leibnitz^ was never out of
his library; PascaP killed himself by study ; Cicero* nar-
rowly escaped death by the same cause ; Milton was at his
books with as much regularity as a merchant or an attor-
ney ; he had mastered all the knowledge of his time : so
had Homer. RaphaeP lived but thirty-seven years, and
in that short space carried his art so far beyond what it
had before reached, that he appears to stand alone as a
model to his successors.
6. There are instances to the contrary ; but, generally
speaking, the hfe of all truly great men has been a life of
intense and incessant labor. They have commonly passed
the first half of life in the gross darkness of indigent
humility, — overlooked, mistaken, contemned, by weaker
men, — thinking while others slept, reading while others
rioted, feeling something within that told them they should
not always be kept down among the dregs of the world.
And then, when their time was come, and some little acci-
dent has given them their first occasion, they have burst
out into the fight and glory of public life, rich with the
spoils of time, and mighty in all the labors and struggles
of the mind.
7. Then do the multitude cry out, — "^ miracle of
genius!^'' Yes; he is a miracle of genius, because he is a
miracle of labor ; because, instead of trusting to the re-
sources of his own single mind, he has ransacked a thou-
sand minds ; because he. makes use of the accumulated
wisdom of ages, and takes as his point of departure the
224 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
very last line and boundary to which science has advanced ;
because it has ever been the object of his life to assist every
intellectual gift of nature, however munificent, and how-
ever splendid, with every resource that art could suggest,
and every attention dihgence could bestow.
8. But some men may be disposed to ask, — " Why con-
duct my understanding with such endless care ? and what
is the use of so much knowledge ? *' What is the use of
so much knowledo-e ? What is the use of so much life ?
What are we to do with the seventy years of existence
allotted to us ? and how are we to live them out to the
last ? I solemnly declare, that, but for the love of knowl-
edge, I should consider the life of the meanest liedger and
ditcher as preferable to that of the greatest and richest
man in existence ; for the fire of our minds is like the fire
which the Persians burn on the mountains, — it flames
night and day, and is immortal, and not to be quenched !
Upon something it must act and feed, — upon the pure
spirit of knowledge, or upon the foul di'egs of polluting
passions.
9. Therefore, when I say, in conducting your under-
standing, love knowledge with a great love, — with a vehe-
ment love, with a love coeval with life, — what do I say but
love innocence ; love virtue ; love purity of conduct ; love
that which, if you are rich and great, will sanctify the
Providence which has made you so, and make men call it
justice ; love that which, if you are poor, will render your
poverty respectable, and make the proudest feel it unjust
to laugh at the meanness of your fortunes ; love that which
will comfort you, adorn you, and never quit you, — which
will open to you the kingdom of thought, and all the
boundless regions of conception, as an asylum against the
cruelty, the injustice, and the pain that may be your lot
UNION FIFTH READER. 225
in the outer world, — that which will make your motives
habitually great and honorable, and light up in an instant
a thousand noble disdains at the very thought of meanness
and of fraud ?
10. Therefore, if any young man have embarked his life
in the pursuit of Knowledge, let him go on without doubt-
ing or fearing the event : let him not be intimidated by the
cheerless beginnings of Knowledge, by the darkness from
which she springs, by the difficulties which hover around
her, by the ^\'Tetched habitations in which she dwells, by
the want and sorrow which sometimes journey in her
train ; but let him ever follow her as the Angel that
guards him, and as the Genius of his life. She will bring
him out at last into the light of day, and exhibit him to the
world comprehensive in acquirements, fertile in resources,
rich in imagination, strong in reasoning, prudent and pow-
erful above his fellows in all the relations and in all the
offices of life.
LESSON LXII.
* Rus' KIN, John, was born in London in the year 1819. In 1843, he pub-
lished a work entitled "Modern Painters," in which he advocates the
claims of the moderns over the ancients to superiority in the art of
landscape-painting. He has published several Avorks since, and is still
devoted to the study of his art. The brilliancy of his diction, and
splendor of his style, never fail to secure the admiration of all.
MAN AND THE INDUSTRIAL ARTS.
DR. GEORGE WILSON.
THE Industrial Arts are necessary arts. The most
degraded savage must practice them, and the most
civilized genius can not dispense with them. Whatever
be our gifts of intellect or fortune, we can not avoid being
15
226 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
hungry, and thirsty, and cold, and weary, every day ; and
we must fight for our lives against the hunger, and thirst,
and cold, and weariness, which wage an unceasing war
against us. But, though the Industrial Arts are common,
they are not Ignoble arts. They minister, indeed, to those
physical wants which we share with the lower animals ;
but we are'raised above them as much by being industrial
as by being aesthetic artists. We are the former by virtue
of our superior intellect^ as we are the latter by virtue of
our superior imagination.
2. It is with every-day life, and every-day cares, that
the Industrial Arts have to do, — with man, not as "a lit-
tle lower than the angels,"* but "as crushed before the
moth," and weaker th^n the weakest of the beasts that
perish, — with man as a hungry, thirsty^ restless, quarrel-
some, naked animal. But man^ because he Is this, and
just because he Is this, is raised, by the industrial conquests
which he is compelled to achieve, to a place of power and
dignity, separating him by an absolutely immeasurable in-
terval from every other animal.
3. It might appear, at first sight, as if It were not so.
As Industrial creatures, we often look like wretched copy-
ists of animals far beneath us In the scale of organization ;
and we seem to confess as much by the names which w^e
give them. The mason-wasp, the carpenter-bee, the min-
ing caterpillars, the quarrying sea-slugs, execute their work
in a way which we can not rival or excel. The bird Is
an ex'quisite architect ; the beaver a most skillful bridge-
builder ; the silk-worm the most beautiful of weavers ; the
spider the best of net-makers. Each Is a perfect craftsman,
and each lias his tools always at hand.
4. Those wise creatures will do one thing rather than
another, and do that one thing in different ways at differ-
UNION FIFTH READEE. 227
ent times. A bird, for example, selects a place to build its
nest, and accommodates its form to the particular locality
it has chosen ; and a bee alters the otherwise invariable
shape of its cell, when the space it is working in forbids it
to carry out its hexagonal plan. Yet it is impossible to
watch these, or others among the lower animals, and fail
to see that, to a great extent, they are mere living machines^
saved from the care and anxiety which lie so heavily upon
us, by their entire contentment with the present, their
oblivion of the past, and their indifference to the future.
5. They do invent, they do design, they do exercise
volition in wonderful ways ; but their most wonderful
works imply neither invention, contrivance, nor volition,
but only a placid, pleasant, easily-rendered obedience to
instincts which reign without rivals, and justify their des-
potic rule by the infallible happiness which they secure.
There is nothing, accordingly, obsolete, nothing tentative,
nothing progressive, in the labors of the most wonderful
mechanicians among the lower animals. It has cost none
of these ingenious artists any intellectual effort to learn its
craft ; for God gave it to each perfect in the beginning ;
and within the circle to which they apply, the rules which
guide their work are infallible, and know no variation.
6. No feathered Ruskin^ appears among the birds, to dis-
cuss before them whether their nests should be built on the
principles of Grecian or Gothic architecture. No beaver,
in advance of his age, patents a diving-bell. No glow-
worm advocates, in the hearing of her conservative sisters,
the merits of new vesta-lights, or improved lucifer-matches.
The silk-worms entertain no propositions regarding the
substitution of machinery for bodily labor. The spiders
never divide the House on the question of a Ten-hours
Working Bill. The ants are as one on their Corn-laws.
228 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
The bees never alter their tax upon sugar, nor dream of
lessening the severities of their penal code ; their drones
are slaughtered as relentlessly as they were three thousand
years ago ; nor has a solitary change been permitted, since
first there were bees, in any of their singular domestic
institutions.
7. To those wise creatures the Author of all has given,
not only infallible rules for their work, but unfaltering faith
in them. Labor is for them not a doubt, but a certainty.
Duty is the same thing as happiness. They never grow
weary of life ; and death never surprises them. We are
industrial for other reasons, and in a different way. Our
working instincts are very few ; our faith in them still
more feeble ; and our physical wants far greater than those
of any other creature.
8. With the intellects of angels, and the bodies of earth-
worms, we have the power to conquer, and the need to do
it. The Industrial Arts are the result of our destitution
and necessities. The Fine Arts may be gracefully grouped
round the five senses, — the eye to the painter, the ear
to the musician, the tongue to the poet, the hand to the
sculptor, and the whole body, the instrument of touch,
among all. The Fine Arts thus begin each Avith a special
sense, and converge toward the body ; the Industrial Arts
begin with the body, and diverge toward the special
senses. . . .
9. The shivering savage in the colder countries robs the
seal and the bear, the buffalo and the deer, of the one
mantle which Nature has given them. The wild hunts-
man, by a swift but simple transmutation, becomes the
clothier, the tailor, the tanner, the currier, the leather-
dresser, the glover, the saddler, the shoemaker, the tent-
Vnaker. And the tent-maker becomes quickly a house-
UNION FIFTH KEADEB. 229
builder, building with snow where better material is not
to be had ; and a ship-builder, constructing out of a few
wooden ribs, and stretched animal-skins, canoes which may
survive where our ships of oak have gone to destruction.
10. The savage of the warmer regions seeks a covering,
not from the cold, but from the sun, which smites him by
day ; and the moon, which smites him by night. The
palm, the banana, the soft-barked trees, the broad-leaved
sedges, and long-fibered grasses, are spoiled by him, as the
beasts of the field are by his colder brother. He becomes a
sower, a reaper, a spinner, a weaver, a baker, a brewer,
a distiller, a dyer, a carpenter ; and while he is tliese^ he
bends the pliant stems of his tropical forests into roof-trees
and rafters, and clothes them with leaves, and makes for
himself a tabernacle of boughs, and so is the arch-architect
of a second great school of architecture.
11. It is not, however, his cultivation of the arts which
have been named, or of others, that makes man peculiar as
an industrial animal ; it is the mode in which he practices
them. The first step he takes toward remedying his des-
titution and helplessness, is in a direction where no other
creature has led the way, and none has followed his exam-
ple. He lays hold of that most powerful of all weapons
of peace or war, fire^ from which every other animal,
unless when fortified by his presence, flees in terror ; and
Avith it alone not only clothes himself, but lays the founda-
tion of a hundred arts. Man is the only animal that can
strike a light, — the solitary creature that knows how to
kindle a fire.
12. Once provided with his kindled brand, the savage
technologist soon proves Avhat a scepter of power he holds
in his hand. He tills with it ; by a single touch burning
up the withered grass of a past season, and scattering its
230 . SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ashes to fertilize the plains, which will quickly be green
again. Tt serves him as an ax to fell the tallest trees, and
hollows out for him the canoe in which he adventures
upon strange seas. It is an all-sufficient defense against
the fiercest wild beasts ; and it reduces for him the iroa
ore of the rocks, and forges it into a weapon of war. In-
deed, his kindled brand makes the savage, without further
help, a farmer, a baker, a cook, a carpenter, a smith, a
potter, a brick-maker, a lime-burner, and builder ; and,
besides much else, a soldier and a sailor.
13. You may think this sketch of the savage's obliga-
tion to fire fanciful and exaggerated ; but if you consider
how every human industrial art stands directly or indi-
rectly related to fire, while no animal art does, you will
not regard the statement as extravagant. The great con-
quering people of the world have been those who knew
best how to deal with fire. The most wealthy of the
active nations are those which dwell in countries richly
provided with fuel. No inventions have changed the en-
tire world more than steam and gunpowder. We are
what we are, largely because we are the ministers and
masters of fire.
14. Every other animal is by nature fully equipped and
caparisoned for its work ; its tools are ready for use, and it
is ready to use them. We have first to invent our tools,
and then to fashion them, and then to learn how to handle
them. Man's marvelous hand is, no doubt, in itself, an
exquisite instrument of art ; but our hands would be noth-
ing to us but for our tvise heads. Two-thirds, at least, of
our industrial doings are preliminary. Before two pieces
of cloth can be sewed together, we require a needle, which
embodies the inventiveness of a hundred ingenious brains;
and a hand, which only a hundred botchings and failures
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 231
have, in the lapse of years, taught to use the instrument
with skill.
15. It is so with all the crafts, and they are inseparably
dependent on each other. The mason waits on tlie car-
penter for his mallet ; and the carpenter, on the smith for
his saw ; the smith, on the smelter for his iron ; and the
smelter, on the miner for his ore. Each, moreover, needs
the help of all the others. This helplessness of the single
craftsman is altogether peculiar to the human artist. The
lower animals are all polyartists, and never heard of such a
doctrine as that of the division of labor.
16. The same bee, for example, markets, and bakes bee-
bread, and manufactures sugar, and makes w^ax, and builds
store-houses, and plans apartments, and nurses the royal
infants, and waits upon the queen, and apprehends thieves,
and smites to the death the enemies of the Amazons. The
nightingale, though he is a poet, builds and furnishes his
nest without any help from the raven ; and the lark does
not excuse herself from her household duties because she
is an excellent musician.
17. Nor are. there deo-rees of skill amono; the animal
artists. Tho beavers pay no consulting fees to eminent
beaver-engineers experienced in hydraulics ; the coral in-
sects do not offer hicrher wa^es to skilled workmen at reef-
ed o
building ; every nautilus is an equally good sailor ; and
the wasps, engaged in "just and necessary wars," offer no
bounties to tempt veteran soldiers into their armies. The
industrialness, then, of man is carried out in a way quite
peculiar to himself, and singularly illustrative of his, com-
bined weakness and greatness. The most helpless, physic-
ally, of animals, and yet the one with the greatest num-
ber of pressing appetites and desires, he has no working
instincts to secure the gratification of his most pressing
wants, and no tools which such instincts can work with.
232 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
18. He is compelled, therefore, to fall back upon the
powers of his reason and understanding^ and make his in-
tellect serve him instead of a crowd of instinctive impulses ;
and his intellect-guided hand, instead of an apparatus of
tools.- Before that hand, armed with the tools which it
has fashioned, and that intellect, which marks man as made
in the image of God, the instincts and weapons of the en-
tire animal creation are as nothing. He reigns, by right
of conquest, as indisputably as by right of inheritance, the
king of this world.
LESSON LXIII.
THE BEAUTIFUL.
E. H. BURRINGTON.
1. liTTALK with the Beautiful, and with the Grand;
T V Let nothing on the earth thy feet deter ;
Sorrow may lead thee weeping by the hand.
But give not all thy bosom-thoughts to her:
Walk with the Beautiful ! '
2. I hear thee say, — " The Beautiful ! what is it?"
O, thou art darkly ignorant I Be sure
'Tis no long, weary road, its form to visit ;
For thou canst make it smile beside thy door :
Then love the Beautiful !
3. Ay? love it ; 'tis a sister that will bless.
And teach thee patience when thy heart is lonely ;
The angels love it ; for they wear its dress ;
And thou art made a little lower only :
Then love the Beautiful !
UNION FIFTH READEB. 23-^
4. Some boast its presence in a Grecian face ; *
Some, in a favorite warbler of the skies ;
But be not fooled ! Whate'er thine eye may trace,
Seeking the Beautiful, it will arise :
Then seek it everywhere,
5. Thy bosom is its mint; the workmen are
Thy Thoughts, and they must coin for thee. Believing
The Beautiful exists in every star,
Thou mak'st it so ; and art thyself deceiving,
If otherwise thy faith.
6. Dost thou see Beauty in the violet's cup ?
I'll teach thee miracles. Walk on this heath,
And say to the neglected flowers, — " Look up,
And be ye beautiful ! " If thou hast faith,
They will obey thy word.
T. One thing I warn thee : bow no knee to gold ;
Less innocent it makes the guileless tonsne ;
It turns the feelings prematurely old ;
And they who keep their best affections young,
Best love the Beautiful.
Questions. 1. What rule for spelling deceiving -with ei, and believing
with ie, 5th stanza ? Answer : All words of this class, in which the diph-
thong is preceded by the letter c, are spelled with ei ; if the diphthong is
preceded by any other letter, they are spelled with ie. 2. What is the
meaning of the suffix less in the word guileless, 7th stanza 1 See Sanders*
Union Speller, page 143.
* Gre' cian face. The ancient Grecians were distinguished for their
s//inmetrt/ and beauty, many proofs of which may be seen in those exquisite
specimens of statuary wliich have been handed down to us as the beau-ideal
of the Grecian form.
234 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON LXIY.
THE BRIGHT FLOWERS.
ANON.
1. /^H ! they look upward in every place
\J Tlirough this beautiful world of ours ;
And dear as the smile on an old friend's face
Is the smile of the bright, bright flowers.
They tell us of wanderings by wood and streams,
They tell us of lanes and trees ;
But the children of showers and sunny beams
Have lovelier tales than these, —
(^All the class) The bright, bright flowers !
2. They tell of a season when men were not,
When earth was by angels trod ;
And leaves and flowers at every spot
Burst forth at the call of God, —
When spirits, singing their hymns at even,
Wandered by wood and glade,
And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven,
And blessed what He had made, —
(^All the class} The bright, bright flowers !
3. The blessing remaineth upon them still.
Though often the storm-cloud lowers ;
And frequent tempests may soil and chill
The gayest of earth's fair flowers.
When Sin and Death, with their sister, Grief,
Made a home in the hearts of men.
The blessing of God in each tender leaf
Preserved in their beauty then
(^All the class) The bright, bright flowers I
CTNION FIFTH EEADER. 235
The lily is lovely as when it slept
On the waters of Eden's lake ;
The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept
In Eden from brake to brake.
They were left as a proof of the loveliness
Of Adam and Eve's first home ;
They are here as a type of the joys that bless
The just in the world to come, —
(^All the class} The bright, bright flowers !
LESSOISr LXV.
THE SUMMER RAIN,
HELEN MITCHELL.
1. /^H the rain, the beautiful rain !
yj Cheerily, merrily falls.
Beating its wings 'gainst the window-pane,
Trickling down the walls, —
Over the meadow with pattering feet,
Kissing the clover-blossoms sweet,.
Singing the blue-bells fiist asleep.
Making the pendent willows weep, ^-
Over the hillside brown.
Over the dusty town,
Merrily, cheerily, cometh it down,
The rain, the summer rain !
2. Oh the rain, the welcome rain !
Softly, kindly, it falls
On tiny flower and thirsting plain.
And vine by the cottage-walls ;
236 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Laughingly tipping the Hly's cup,
It filleth the crystal chahce up,
Joyously greeting the earth that thrills
Through her thousand veins of gathering rills.
Over the violet's bed, .
Over the sleeping dead,
Cometh with kindly tread
The rain, the gentle rain !
3. Oh the rain, the cheering rain !
Drifting slowly, sweetly down,
Where spreading fields of golden grain
The sloping hillsides crown ;
Flecking with dimples the lake's calm face,
Quickening the schoolboy's tardy pace,
Caressing a bud by a wayside stone,
Leaving a gem as it passes on,
' In the daisy's breast,
On the thistle's crest.
And the buttercup richly blest
By the rain, the generous rain !
LESSON" LXYL
A NOBLE REVENGE.
THOMAS DE QUINCEY.
A YOUNG officer had so far forgotten himself, in a mo-
ment of irritation, as to strike a private soldier, full
of personal dignity, and distinguished for his courage.
The inex'orable laws of military discipline forbade to the
injured soldier any redress, — he could look for no retalia-
tion by acts. Words only were at his command ; and, in a
UNION FIFTH READER. 237
tumult of indignation, as lie turned away, the soldier said
to his officer that he would " make him repent it." This,
wearing the shape of a menace, naturally rekindled the
officer's anger, and intercepted any disposition which might
be risino; within him toward a sentiment of remorse ; and
thus the irritation between the two young men grew hotter
than before.
2. Some weeks after this, a partial action took place with
the enemy. Suppose yourself a spectator, and looking
down into a valley occupied by the two armies. They are
flicing each other, you see, in martial array. But it is no
more than a skirmish which is going on ; in the course of
which, however, an occasion suddenly arises for a desperate
service. A redoubt, which has fallen into the enemy's
hands, must be recaptured at any price, and under circum-
stances of all but hopeless difficulty.
3. A strong party has volunteered for the service ; there
is a cry for somebody to head them : you see a soldier step
out from the ranks to assume this dangerous leadership.
The party moves rapidly forward ; in a few minutes it is
swallowed up from your eyes in clouds of smoke ; for one
half-hour, from behind these clouds you receive hiero-
glyphic reports of bloody strife, — fierce-repeating signals,
flashes from the guns, rolling musketry, and exulting hur-
rahs, advancing or receding, slackening or redoubling.
4. At length, all is over ; the redoubt has been recov-
ered ; that which was lost, is found again ; the jewel
which had been made captive, is ransomed with blood.
Crimsoned with glorious gore, the wreck of the conquer-
ing party is relieved, and at liberty to return. From the
river you see it ascending. The plume-crested officer in
command rushes forward, with his left hand raising his hat
in homage to the blackened fragments of what once was a
238 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
flag, while with his right hand he seizes that of the leader,
though no more than a private from the ranks. That per-
plexes you not ; mystery you see none in that. For dis-
tinctions of order perish, ranks are confounded ; '' high
and low " are words without a meaning j and to wreck
goes every notion or feeling that divides the noble from
the noble, or the brave man from the brave.
5. But wherefore is it that now, when suddenly they
wheel into mutual recognition, suddenly they pause ?
This soldier, this officer, — who are they ? O reader !
once before they had stood face to face, — the soldier that
was struck, the officer that struck him. Once again they
are meeting, and the gaze of armies is upon them. If, for
a moment, a doubt divides them, in a moment that doubt
has perished. One glance, exchanged between them, pub-
lishes the formveness that is sealed forever.
6. As one who recovers a brother whom he has ac-
counted dead, the officer sprang forward, threw his arms
around the neck of the soldier, and kissed him, as if he
were some martyr glorified by that shadow of death from
which he was returning ; while, on his part, the soldier,
stepping back, and carrying his open hand through the
beautiful motions of the military salute to a superior, makes
this immortal answer, — that answer which shut up for-
ever the memory of the indignity offered to him, even
while, for the last time, alluding to it, — "Sir," he said,
" I told you before that I would make you repent it ! "
7. How admirably does the conduct of this noble soldier
exemplify the teachings of the Savior ! — '' But I say unto
you, that ye resist not evil. Love your enemies ; bless
them that curse you ; do good to them that hate you ; and
pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute
you ; that ye may be the children of your Father which is
in Heaven."
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 239
LESSON" LXVII.
STORY OF THE SIEGE OF CALAIS.
HENUY BUOOKE.
EDWARD III., after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to
Calais.* He had fortified his camp in so impregnable
a manner that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual
to raise the siege, or throw succor into the city. The
citizens, under Count Vienne', their gallant governor,
made an admirable defense. France had now put the
sickle into her second harvest since Edward, Avith his vic-
torious army, sat down before the town. The eyes of all
Europe were intent on the issue.
2. At length, famine did more for Edward than arms.
After suffering great calamities, they resolved to attempt
the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth ; the Eng-
lish joined battle ; and, after a long and desperate engage-
ment. Count Vienne was taken prisoner ; and the citizens
who survived the slaughter, retired within their gates.
The command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre', a man
of humble birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitu-
late with Edward, provided he permitted them to depart
with life and liberty.
3. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cruelty, con-
sented to spare the bulk of the plebe'ians, provided they
delivered up to him six of their principal citizens^ with
halters about their necks, as victims of due atonement for
that spirit of rebellion with which they had inflamed the
common people. When his messenger, Sir Walter Mauny,
delivered the terms, consternation and pale dismay were
* French pronunciation, kaf Id.
240 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
impressed on every countenance. To a long and dead
silence deep sighs and grdans succeeded, till Eustace St.
Pierre, standing upon a little eminence, thus addressed the
assembly : —
4. "My friends, we are brought to great straits this
day. We must either yield to the terms of our cruel and
insnaring conqueror, or give up our tender infants, our
wives, and our daugliters, to the enemy. Is there any
expedient left whereby we may avoid the guilt and infamy
of delivering up those who have suffered every misery
with you, on the one hand, or the desolation and horror
of a sacked city, on the other' ? There is, my friends ;
there is one expedient left! — a gracious, an excellent,
a god-like expedient left! Is there any here to whom
virtue is dearer than life' ? Let him offer himself an obla-
tion for the safety of his people ! He shall not fail to live
forever in the memories of his countrymen."
5. He spoke ; but a universal silence ensued. Each man
looked around for the example of that virtue and magna-
nimity which all wished to approve m themselves, though
they wanted the resolution. At length, St. Pierre re-
sumed: — " I doubt not but there are many here as ready
for, nay, more zealous of, this martyrdom than / can be ;
though the station to which I am raised by the captivity of
Lord Vienne, imparts a right to be the first in giving my
life for your sakes. I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully.
Who comes next ? "
6. " Your son ! " exclaimed a youth not yet come to
maturity.
"Ah, my child!" cried St. Pierre; "I am then twice
sacrificed. Thy years are few, but full, my son. The
victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and goal
of mortality ! Who next, my friends ? This is the hour of
heroes."
UNION FIFTH READEB. 241
7. " Your kinsman ! " cried John d'Aire.
" Your kinsman I '* cried James Wissant.
" Your kinsman ! " cried Peter Wissant.
''All!" exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into
tears, "why was not Za citizen of Calais?"
8. The sixth victim was still wanting, but was quickly
supplied by lot from numbers who were now emulous of so
ennobling an example. The keys of the city were then
delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six prisoners into
his custody ; then ordered the gates to be opened, and gave
charfije to his attendants to conduct the remaining^ citizens
with their families through the camp of the English. Be-
fore they departed, however, they desired permission to
take the last adieu of their deliverers. What a parting !
what a scene ! They crowded with their wives and chil-
dren about St. Pierre and his fellow-prisoners. They
embraced, they clung around, they fell prostrate before
them ; they groaned, they wept aloud ; and the joint
clamor of their mourning passed the gates of the city, and
was heard throughout the English camp.
9. The English, by this time, were apprised of what
passed within Calais. They heard the voice of lamenta-
tion, and their souls were touched with compassion. Each
of the soldiers prepared a portion of his own victuals, to
welcome and entertain the half-famished inhabitants ; and
they loaded them with as much as their present weakness
w^s able to bear, in order to supply them with sustenance
by the way. At length, St. Pierre and his fellow-victims
appeared, under the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard.
10. All the tents of the English were instantly emptied.
The soldiers poured from all parts, and arranged them-
selves on each side, to behold, to contemplate, to admire
this little band of patriots as they passed. They bowed to
n
242 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
them on all sides ; they murmured their applause of that
virtue which they could not but revere, even in enemies ;
and they regarded those ropes which they had voluntarily
assumed about their necks as ensigns of greater dignity
than that of knighthood. As soon as they had reached
the presence, " Mauny," says the monarch, '' are these
the princii:>al inhabitants of Calais?"
11. "They are," says Mauny ; *'they are not only
the principal men of Calais, they are the ])rincipal men
of France, my lord, if virtue has any share in the act of
ennoblino;."
"Were they delivered peaceably?" asked Edward.
"Was there no resistance, no commotion among the
people ? "
" Not in the least, my lord ; the people would all have
perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to
your majesty. They are self-delivered^ self-devoted^ and
come to offer up their inestimable heads as an ample
equivalent for the ransom of thousands."
12. Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Sir
Walter ; but he knew the privilege of a British subject,
and suppressed his resentment. " Experience," says he,
" has ever shown that lenity only serves to invite people to
new crimes. Severity, at times, is indispensably necessary
to compel subjects to submission by punishment and ex-
ample. Go," he cried to an officer, "lead these men to
execution ! "
13. At this instant a sound of triumph Avas heard
throughout the camp. The queen had just arrived with
a powerful re-enforcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter
Mauny flew to receive her majesty, and briefly informed
her of the particulars respecting the six victims. As soon
as she had been welcomed by Edward and his court, she
desired a private audience.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 243
14. " My lord," said she, '' the question I am to enter
upon is not touching the hves of a few mechanics ; it
respects the honor of the English nation ; it respects the
glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think
you have sentenced six of your enemies to death. No, my
lord ; they have sentenced themselves ; and their execu-
tion would be the execution of their own orders, not the
orders of Edward. The stage on which they would suffer,
would be to them a stage of honor ^ but a stage of shame to
Edward, — a reproach to his conquests, an indelible dis-
grace to his name.
15. " Let us rather disappoint these haughty citizens,
who wish to invest themselves with glory at our expense.
We can not wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacri-
fice so nobly intended ; but we may cut them short of
their desires. In the place of that death, by which their
glory would be consummated, let us bury them under
gifts; let us put them to confusion with aj)plauses. We
shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion Avhich
never fails to attend those who sufibr in the cause of
virtue."
16. " I am convinced ; you have prevailed. Be it so,"
replied Edward. '' Prevent the execution ; have them
instantly before us."
They came ; when the queen, PhiHppa, w^ith an aspect
and accents diffusing sweetness, thus besj)oke them : —
17. " Natives of Prance, and Inhabitants of Calais :
You have put us to a vast expense of blood and treas-
ure in the recovery of our just and natural inherit-
ance ; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous
judgment, and we admire ana hcmor in you that valor and
virtue by which Ave were so long kept out of our rightful
possessions. You noble, you excellent citizens! though you
244 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne,
\ve can feel nothing on our part save respect and affection
for you. You have been sufficiently tested. We loose
your chains ; we snatch you from the scaffold ; and we
thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you teach
Us, when you show us that excellence is not of blood, of
title, or of station ; that virtue gives a dignity superior to
that of kings ; and that those whom the Almighty informs
with sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised
above all human distinctions.
18. " You are now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your
countrymen, to all those whose lives and liberties you have
so nobly redeemed, provided you refuse not the tokens of
our esteem. Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves
by every endearing obligation ; and, for this purpose, we
offer to you your choice of the gifts and honors that Ed-
ward has to bestow. Rivals for fame, but always friends
to virtue, we wish that England were entitled to call you
her sons."
"Ah, my country!" exclaimed Pierre, "it is now that
I tremble for you ! Edward only wins our cities ; but
Philippa conquers our hearts ! "
LESSOIT LXYIII.
THE TRUE LEGION OF HONOR.
ANON.
1. A GOLDEN banner, bright and beaming,
iX Waves upon a lofty tower ;
Far and wide its rays are streaming,
Gathering brightness every hour ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 245
And upon it there is written,
As in words of flaming fire, —
(< ) '' Onward, onward, ever onward!
Higlier, higher still aspire ! '*
2. And around that glorious standard
Gathers many a noble kniglit,
Men of every clime and color.
To do battle for the Right.
But they need no sword or buckler,
Helmet, lance, or bayonet keen :
No ; they wield far mightier weapons, —
Weapons mightier, tliougli unseen.
3. Yes ; they are a band of heroes,
High in liope, of valor true,
Warrino- Vainst the world's sad evils, —
Nobler field than Waterloo.
Though no glitter marks their conquests,
Though no trumpet sounds their praise,
Worthy they of liighest honors,
Worthy of immortal lays.
4. Conquerors are they, though no cities
Are by them in ruins laid ;
Though no waiHngs mark their progress,
Smoking piles and heaps of dead.
Theirs it is to war with Error,
Falsehood's mask aside to tear ;
And, where Superstition triumphs,
Plant the flag of knowledge there.
246 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
5. Hearts have they of highest daring,
Fearless, dauntless, true as steel ;
Yet they melt at human sorrow,
And the wo^s of others feel.
The poor, the needy, and the outcast —
Brothers still, tliough fallen low —
Find in them a guardian angel ;
Tyranny, a mortal foe.
6. Knowledge, Freedom, are th^ir war-cries ;
Hope for man, their watchword still ;
And their arm is ever active.
Smiting down each crying ill.
And that banner waves above them —
Rich bequest from sire to son —
Beacon that will ever brighten.
Till the final conquest's won.
LESSON" LXIX
CONSCIENCE.
JAMES LINEN.
"Whatever creed be taught, or land be trod,
Man's conscience is the oracle of God." — Byron.
lo npELL me, O Conscience! what thou art,
X That fires the brain and wrings the heart ;
That haunts the guilty mind with fears,
And fills the eyes with bitter tears ;
That keeps the memory on the rack
By bringiiig recollections back ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 247
That plays with feelings at thy will,
And tortures with consummate skill ;
Whose task it is, by smile or frown,
To lift man up, or drag him down ;
Whose sting is keener far than steel
Which felons in dark dungeons feel.
The prince may golden favors shower,
Yet he is subject to thy power.
2. The hero Honor's path may tread,
And his great name world-wide be spread ;
But glory brings not peace of mind,
That jewel rare, so hard to find.
From tliy dominion none can flee,
For mortals all must bow to thee !
Tell me, O Conscience ! what thou art.
Weird Watchman of the human heart !
3. Art thou the child of wretched Care,
That murders Sleep and mocks Despair —
That fills with pangs the human breast.
And robs the guilty head of rest —
That mutely weeps o'er crime untold.
Where Vice buys Virtue with her gold —
Whose records by some mystic hand
Are written in a fadeless land ?
Tell me, O Conscience ! what thou art.
Weird Watchman of the human heart.
4. The soul that claims celestial birth,
Finds naught but tainted joys on earth ;
Imprisoned in a cell of clay.
That yields to laws of swift decay, —
248 SANDERS' UNION l&EEIES.
The spirit tenant of the heart
Is ever yearning ta depart ;
Like some caged warbler to be free,
That it may soar^ O God ! to thee,
5. O Conscience ? mute, mysterious gnest ;
Man fain would pluck thee from his breast,
As if thou wert his deadly foe,
The only cause of human woe ;
Could he but snatch thy golden crown,
And madly pull thy temple down.
Dark Vice would rear her bloody shrines
Where perish hoj)es and Virtue pines ;
Strike but the brave heart-monarch dumb,
. And earth a desert would become,
6. When man can feel a conscience clear.
What wrontTs and dancjers need he fear ?
Calmly at his departing breath.
It takes away the stings of death ;
It nobly braves the coward world,
Till Reason from her throne be hurled ;
With all the feelings of the heart
It gently plays a leading part.
In concert acting with the soul
When passions wild brook no control ;
Close by life's purple fountain found.
It guards the spot as holy ground.
Tell me, O Conscience ! v/hat thou art.
Weird Watchman of the human heart !
Question. — Why Jo Care, Sleep, Despair, Vice, Virtue, Conscience, nnd
Watchman, 3d stanza, begin with capitals? Answer. — Because they are
personified.
•A
J
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 249
LESSON LXX.
^By' RON, tlEORGE GoRDON, (Lord Byron,) was born in London, Jan, 22,
1788 ; and died April 19, 1824. In his nineteenth year, he commenced
his career as an author by publishing the " Hours of Idleness." It
was criticised with great severity by "The Ediiiburgh Review;" to
which attack he replied with still greater severity in a caustic satire
entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." His life was marked
by great misfortunes, occasioned chiefly by his own wild and wanton
conduct; but it was distinguished by a series of poetical productions,
which have been more admired and more condemned than those, per-
haps, of any other writer, whether living or dead.
- New' tox, Sir Isaac. See note, page 94.
^ Boyle, Robert, was born at Lismore, Ireland, in 1626; and died in
London, 1691. He was an able and sedulous investigator of Nature
by experiment, and contributed largely to the various branches of
optics, pneumatics, natural history, chemistry, and medicine ; pneu-
matics probably gaining most by his researches. His mind was essen-
tially reverential, and he wrote largely on religious topics.
* Locke, John, author of the celebrated "Essay on the Human Under-
standing," was born 1652; and died 1704. Firmly attached to the
cause of toleration, civil and religious, he scrupled not to suffer for
either. Human liberty was the kasis of his philosophy, and he practi-
cally stood by it. Few writers had a finer sense of the respect due to
personal conscience.
• Wil' ber force, William, a distinguished English statesman and Chris-
tian philanthropist, was born 1759; and died 1833. While a member
of Parliament, he introduced a bill for the abolition of the slave-trade,
and advocated it in a powerful and effective speech, which gained hini
a reputation as one of the most eloquent orators of the age.
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CULTURE.
SAT. EVE. POST.
IT has pleased the beneficent Father of the universe to
form man a rational and intelligent heing^ to endow him
with faculties of mind susceptible of the highest improve-
ment, and to impart to him a soul which may soar far on
beyond the joys of earthly happiness, and participate in the
bliss of a heavenly immortality. The feelings of his heart,
250 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
purified by the clear principles of rhorality, and ennobled
by the influences of divine goodness, elevate his nature,
and justly entitle him to be ranked among the proudest
works of the Creator.
2. But Omniscience has so constituted him that his hap-
piness is closely interwoven with the practice of the moral
virtues, and a strict and undeviatino; regard for the dictates
of religion. When these are disregarded, the ties that bind
his soul to Heaven, are broken; the glorious destinies of his
existence are lost in the transient pleasures of earth ; and
the impress of divinity, stamped upon his nature, remains
but a polluted emblem of his pristine glory, and, in his
sober moments of reflection, adds keener pangs to his
miseries, by reminding him of the high objects for which
he was created.
3. Wherever there is a want of moral principle^ the
loftiest efforts of the human intellect degenerate into cold-
ness. They may dazzle the imagination with their brilliancy,
and perhaps astonish the reason itself with their strength and
originality ; but the heart is unmoved, and the nobler
and more exalted feelino;s of our nature remain unaffected.
We may witness the most towering flights of genius; we
may listen with delight to the almost overpowering strains
of eloquence ; we may be enchanted with the soft and
flowing numbers of heo,ven-born music ; and, at the same
time, our emotions may be mingled with feelings of sadness
and regret, that the possessors of these golden talents are_
uninfluenced by the mild precepts of virtue, and throw a
shade over their shining qualities by the vicious and cor-
rupt conduct of their lives. We may view with pleasure
too, at a distance, the fiery heavings of a volcano ; but we
shudder to reflect that every swelling is pregnant with the
seeds of desolation, and buries whole cities in liquid fire.
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 251
4. Who lias not been enraptured with the sweet and
fascinating mekxly of Byron ? ^ Who has not felt the deep
breathings of liis mighty genius, and acknowledged the
burning fervor which inspired his Muse ? And yet who,
that bends the knee of reverence at the shrine of Religion,
and endeavors to advance the great principles of morality,
does not intertwine a wreath of cypress with the laurels
that encircle his brow, and, while he admires the magic
power of his poesy, lament that his harp was untuned to
nobler themes, and his sweetest strains were destitute of
heavenly fire ?
5. The immortal Gibbon has removed the vail which
had rested like a mist upon the history of imperial Rome,
and has scattered the darkness and doubt which for suc-
ceeding centuries had enveloped the whole continent of
Europe. His name will be remembered as long as nations
shall exist ; but, while the philanthropist and the Christian
shall bestow the just tribute of applause upon the splendor
of his talents and the magnificence of his works, they will
shed tears of sorrow over his infidelity, and regret that
almost every page of his history is stained with opposition
to the gospel of Christ.
6. But there is a brighter page in the history of man.
From the catalogue of the distinguished. men of every age,
we may select some whose names are an ornament to hu-
man nature, and whose lives have been devoted to the
cultivation of the moral graces, and the advancement of
social and religious happiness. Newton,'^ Boyle,^ and Locke*
have enlarged the circle of the human mind, and adorned
the principles of philosophy with the precepts of piety.
Their fame is equally identified with the progress of
knowledge and the diffusion of virtue.
7. Others have emblazoned their names upon the es-
252 • SANDERS' UNION SEEIES.
cutcheon of immortality by some single act, which has con-
tributed to alleviate the wretchedness of thousands, or
dissemhiated the seeds of morahty to the remotest corners
of the earth. Millions of the degraded sons of Africa will
swell the anthem of joy, while associations of the sweets
of liberty shall remind them of the name of Wilberforce.'^
The history of others who have shed a bright and undying
luster upon our country, will call forth the grateful recol-
lections of unborn generations, so long as truth shall
triumph over error, and the influence of Christianity be felt
in removing vice and superstition from the hearts of men.
8. The cultivation of moral feeliiig is as closely inter-
woven with the stability of government, as it is allied to the
promotion of the great objects of religion. Kemove this
pillar, and the beautiful fabric of our freedom falls. Dif-
fuse the poison of immorahty among the minds of the
people, and factious ambition would sway the councils of
the nation, or perhaps the bloody flag of despotism would
wave over the ruins of the fair temple of our liberties.
9. Rome, so long as she resisted the encroachments of
vice, and maintained a sense of piety and devotion among
her citizens, preserved her political frame firm and un-
broken. But the '' fell destroyer " came. Vice opened
its flood-gates of destruction, and a thousand streams of
pollution swept away every remnant of moral principle.
The cords of her o-overnment became relaxed, her laws
were disregarded, and licentiousness and corruption sapped
the very foundations of the empire. Rome fell ; and from
her fall succeeding nations may learn that moral principles
are the supporting pillars of their political institutions.
10. The harmonious order which pervades the natural
creation, beautifully illustrates the importance of regularity
in the moral world. The shooting of the plant, the unin-
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 253
terrupted succession of the seasons, the regular movement
of the earth, the stars of tlie firmament wheeUng tlieir
courses in perfect symmetry through the boundless fields
of space, — all present a system of the utmost beauty and
order, and excite in our minds the highest sentiments of
admiration. But when storms and tempests ravage the
surface of the earth, or the convulsions of Nature shake
its foundations to the center, or when the terrific comet
traverses its eccentric course, and threatens the destruction
of worlds, the minds of men are excited with horror, and
filled with consternation and awe. In the same manner,
we view with feelings of dread the wild whirlwind of the
passions, unrestrained by the mild influences of virtue, and
uncontrolled by the effects of a religious education.
11. The God of Nature has raised us high in the scale
of existence ; and shall we degrade the dignity of our
nature by pursuing the delusive phantoms of sensual pleas-
ures, and exchanging the bliss that flows from the culti-
vation of moral and religious feeling for the debasing
objects of earthly gratification ' ? He has implanted in our
souls a desire of happiness ; and shall we exchange the
pure and unadulterated joys of virtue and piety for the
short-lived, unsatisfying pleasures of vice and immorality'?
No : reason and the experience of ages teach us, in loud
and warning accents, that misery is the inevitable conse-
quence of vice, while unalloyed felicity is the sure reward
of virtue.
Questions. — 1. What inflection at the questions, 4th paragraph? Seo
liiile II., page 29. 2. Wliy the rising inflection at the questions, llth para-
graph ? See Rule I., page 28. 3. What is the meaning of the prefix inters
in the words intertioinc, Interiroron, and unintcniipfed, 4th, 8th, and 10th para-
graphs ? See Sanders' Union Speller, Exercise 434, page 136. 4. What is
the use of the hyphen in the wovfX Jiood-gates, 9th paragraph? See Union
Speller, page 170.
254 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON LXXI.
* Dead Sba Apples, or Apples of Sodom, — a fruit of fair appearance,
but dissolving into smoke and ashes when phicked. It resembles an
orange in size and color; but the taste is bitter. — Deut. xxxii. 32.
DESIRE AND MEANS OF HAPPINESS.
HOUACK MANN.
IT is a law of our nature to desire happiness. This law
is not local, but universal ; not temporary, but eternal.
It is not a law to be proved by exceptions ; for it knows no
exception. The savage and the martyr welcome fierce
pains, not because they love pain, but because they love
some expected remuneration of happiness so well, that
they are willing to purchase it at the price of pain, — at the
price of imprisonment, torture, and death.
2. The young desire happiness, more keenly than any
others. This desire is innate, spontaneous, exuberant; and
nothing but repeated and repeated overflows of the lava of
disappointment can burn or bury it in their breasts. On
this law of our nature, then, we may stand as on an im-
movable foundation of truth. Whatever fortune may
befall our argument, our premises are secure.
3. The conscious desire of happiness is active in all men.
Its objects are easily conceivable by all men. But, alas !
toward what different points of the moral compass do men
look for these objects, and expect to find them ! Some
look for happiness above, and some below ; some in the
grandeur of the soul, and some in the grossness of the
sense. Wherever it is looked for, the imagination adorns
it with all its glowing colors.
4. Multitudes of those who seek for happiness, will not
obtain the object of their search, because they seek amiss.
UNION FIFTH READER. 255
Deceived by false ideas of its nature, other multitudes, who
obtain the object of their search, will find it to be sorrow,
and not joy; Dead Sea apples,^ and not celestial fruits.
Whether a young man shall reap pleasure or pain from
winning the objects of his choice, depends not only upon
his wisdom or folly in selecting those objects, but upon the
right or wrong methods by which he pursues them. Noth-
ing is more certain than that the range and possibility of
happiness which God has provided, and placed within reach
of us all, is still vaster than the desire of it in any and in
all of His creatures.
5. We are finite, and can receive only in finite quan-
tities ; He is infinite, and gives in infinite quantities. Look
outwardly, and behold the variety and redundancy of means
which the Creator has prepared to meet and to satisfy all
the rational wants of His children. So ample and multi-
tudinous are the gifts of God, that He needed an immen-
sity of space for their storehouse ; and so various are they,
and ascending one above another in their adaptation to our
capacities of enjoyment, that we need an eternity to set
out the banquet.
6. See how the means of sustenance and comfort are
distributed and diversified througliout the earth ! There
is not a mood of body, from the wantonness of health to
the languor of the death-bed, for which the alchemy of
Nature does not proffer some luxury to stimulate our pleas-
ures, or her pharmacy some catholicon to assuage our pains.
What texture for clothing, from the gossamer thread which
the silkworm weaves, to the silk-like furs which the winds
of Zembla can not penetrate ! As materials from which
to construct our dwellings, what Quincys and New Hamp-
shires of granite, what Alleghanies of oak, and what for-
ests of pine belting the continent ! What coal-fields to
supply the lost warmth of the receding sun !
256 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
7. Notwithstanding tlie beautiful adaptation of the physi-
cal world to our needs, yet, when we leave the regions of
sense and of sensuous things, and ascend to the sphere of
the intellect, we find that all which had ever delighted us
before, becomes poor and somber in the presence of the
brighter glories that burst upon our view. Here fresh and
illimitable fields open upon us; and, corresponding with the
new objects presented, a group of new faculties to explore
and enjoy them, is awakened within us.
8. The outward eye sees outward things, and the outside
of things only ; but the inward eye is emanci})ated from
the bonds that bind its brother. The great panorama of
the universe limits and bounds the outward organs that
behold it ; gives them all they can ask ; fills them with all
they can receive. Splendid and majestic as are the heav-
ens and the earth to the natural eye, yet they are solid,
opaque, impervious. But to the subtle and pervading
intellect, this solid framework of the universe becomes
transparent ; its densest and darkest textures, crystalline.
To the intellect, each interior fiber and atom of things is
luminous.
9. To the intellect of man all recesses are opened, all
secrets revealed. Sunlight glows where darkness gloomed.
To this power, no hight is inaccessible, no depth unfath-
omable, no distance imtraversable. It has the freedom of
the universe. It can not be swallowed up in the waters
of the sea ; it can not be crushed by the weight of the
earth ; and, in the midst of the fiery furnace, One, whose
form is like the Son of God, Avalks by its side.
10- So, too, all created things are governed by laws,
each by its ow^n. These laws the intellect of man can
discover and understand, and thus make his dominion co-
extensive with his knowledge. So far as we understand
UNION FIFTH READER. 257
these laws, we can bring all substajices that are governed
by them under their action, and thus produce the results
we desire, just as the cohier subjects his gold-dust to the
process of minting, and brings out eagles.
11. So far as we understand the Creator's laws. He in-
vests us with His power. When knowledge enables me to
speak with the flaming tongue of lightning across the con-
tinent, is it not the same as though I had power to call
down the swiftest an^el from Heaven, and send him abroad
as the messenger of my thoughts' ? When a knowledge of
astronomy and navigation enables me to leave a port on
this side of the globe, and thread my labyrinthine way
among contrary winds, and through the currents and
counter-currents of the ocean, and to strike any pml I
please on the opposite side of the globe, is it not the same
as though God for this purpose had endued me with His
all-seeing vision, and enabled me to look through clouds
and darkness around the convex earth' ?
12. Nor does the intellect stop with the knowledge of
physical laws. All the nafural attributes of the Author
of those laws are its highest and noblest study. Its contem-
plations and its discoveries rise from the spirit that dwelleth
in a beast to the spirit that dwelleth in a man, and from
this to the Spirit that dwelleth in the heavens. Every
acquisition of knowledge also, which the intellect can
make, assimilates the creature to the all-knowing Cre-
ator. It traces another line on the countenance of the
yet ignorant child, by which he more nearly resembles
the omniscient Father. The human soul is desire ; the
works and wisdom of God are a fountain of supply. If
the soul of man is a void at birth, it is a void so capacious,
that the universe may be transfused into it.
17
258 SAKDEES' UNION SERIES.
LESSON LXXII.
' Gu' TEN BERG, JoHN, was born in 1400, near Mentz, in Germany; and
died in 1468. He is supposed to have made his first experiment in the
art of printing with movable types between 1434 and 1439 ; but it was
in 1443 that he turned his great invention to account, and brought
upon himself great persecution. There are some points not cleared up
in the history of this invention ; but it is now generally agreed that
the honor belongs to John Gutenberg. A beautiful statue has been
erected to his memory.
THE INVENTION OF PRINTING.
OSBORNE.
John Gutenbeug.— Rupert, a Usurer,
Rupert. Friend John, what's wanted now ? Ah ! I can
guess. 'Tis the old story, — money !
John. Master Rupert,
I bring your- good security.
Rup. What's this ?
A family ring, — solid, and set with diamonds!
John. Let me have fifty florins * 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 !
Rap. When, John ?
Jolm. As soon
As I have perfected my great invention.
Rap. 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.
* Flor'in, a silver coin varying in value from twenty-three to fifty-four
cents.
UNION FIFTH READER. 259
Shouldst 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 I
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 ?
Rap. 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.
Riip, John, thy wits are wandering.
Tlu)u art but a dreamer.
JoJm. I can make it plain
To any mechanician, what I say
Is but the sober truth. Ay, Master Rupert,
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, if 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 gi'ave unnoticed : but the spark
260 SANDEES' UNION SEKIES.
Kindled by me shall grow to be a Jight
Unto the nations ; and religion, freedom,
Science, and education, all shall date
An gpoch from the day when Jiere^ 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.
Rap. 'Tis for posterity thou art 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,
John,
Labor for such an ingrate as this same
Vain, unrequiting herd, — posterity f
John, The noble giver finds his solace in
The act of giving, — in the consciousness
He has conferred upon his fellow-men
A certain blessing. Should requital come,
'Twill 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.
Rap. John, thou art a riddle.
Where, then, is thy reward for all thy pains ?
John. My friend, the little good that we can do,
In our sliort sojourn here, will not alone
Shed comfort on this transitory life.
But be (such is my faith) a joy hereafter.
XTNION FIFTH READER. ' 261
LESSON LXXIII.
THE THREE VOICES.
ANON.
1. "TTTHAT salth the Past to tliee ? Weep !
T V Truth is departed ; ,
Beauty hath died like the dream of a sleep ;
Love is faint-hearted ;
Trifles of sense, the profoundly unreal,
Scare from our spirits God's holy ideal :
So, as a funeral bell, slowly and deep,
So tolls the Past to thee ! Weep !
2. How speaks the Present hour ? Act !
Walk upward glancing ;
So shall thy footsteps in glory be traced,
Slow% but advancing.
Scorn not the smallness of daily endeavor,
Let the g-reat meaninoj ennoble it ever ;
Droop not o'er efforts expended in vain ;
Work^ as believing that labor is gain.
3. What doth the Future say ? Hope !
Turn the face sunward ;
Look where the light fringes the far-rising slope ;
Day cometh onward.
Watch ! though so long be the daylight delaying,
Let the first sunbeam arise on thee praying ;
Fear not, for greater is God by thy side
Than armies of Error against thee allied.
262 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON LXXIV.
ACTION OF CLIMATE UPON MAN.
PROF. ARNOLD GUYOT.
SINCE man is made to acquire the full possession and
mastery of his faculties by toil, and by the exercise of
nil his energies, no climate could so well minister to his
progress in this work as the climate of the temperate re-
gions. Excessive heat enfeebles man ; it invites to repose
and inaction. In the tropical regions, the power of life
in nature is carried to its highest degree : thus,' with the
tropical man, the life of the body overmasters that of the
soul ; the physical instincts of our nature eclipse those of
the higher faculties ; passion predominates over intellect
and reason, the passive faculties over the active faculties.
2. Nature, too rich, too prodigal of her gifts, does not
compel man to wrest from her his daily bread by his daily
toil. A regular climate, and the absence of a dormant
season, render forethought of little use to him. Nothing
invites him to that struggle of intelligence against Nature,
which raises the powers of man to their highest pitch.
Thus he never dreams of resisting physical Nature ; he is
conquered by her ; he submits to the yoke, and becomes
again the animal man, in proportion as he abandons him-
self to external influences, forgetful of his high moral
destination.
3. In the temperate climates^ all is activity and move-
ment. Tlie alternations of heat and cofd, the changes of
the seasons, a fresher and more bracing air, incite man tc
a constant struggle, to forethought, and to the vigorous
employment of all his faculties. A more economical Na-
ture yields nothing, except to the sweat of his brow : every
gift on her part is a recompense for effort on his.
UNION FIFTH KEADER. , 263
4. Nature here, even while challenging man to the con-
flict, gives him the hope of victory ; and, if she does not
show herself prodigal, she grants to his active and intelli-
gent labor more than his necessities require : while she
calls out his energy, she thus gives him ease and leisure,
which permit him to cultivate all the lofty faculties of his
higher nature. Here physical Nature is not a tyrant, but
a useful helper ; the active faculties, the understanding and
the reason, rule over the instincts and the passive faculties ;
the soul, over the body ; man, over Nature.
5. In the frozen regions^ man also contends with Nature,
but it is with a niggardly and severe Nature ; it is a des-
perate struggle, — a struggle for life. With difficulty, by
force of toil, he succeeds in providing for himself a misera-
ble support, which saves him from dying of hunger and
hardship, during the long and tedious winters of that
climate. High culture, therefore, is not possible under
such unfavorable conditions.
6. The man of the tropical regions is the son of a wealthy
house. In the midst of the abundance which surrounds
him, labor too often seems to him useless ; to abandon
himself to his inclinations is more easy and agreeable. A
slave of his passions, an unfaithful servant, he leaves un-
cultivated and unused the faculties with which God has
endowed him. The man of the polar regions is the beg-
gar overwhelmed with suffering, who, too happy if he can
but gain his daily bread, has no leisure to think of any
thinor more exalted.
7. The man of the temperate regions^ finally, is the man
born in ease, in the golden mean, which is the most favored
of all conditions. Invited to labor by every thing aroui^d
him, he soon finds, in the exercise of all his faculties, at
once progress and well-being. Thus, if the tropical re-
264 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
gions have the wealth of nature, the temperate regions are
the most perfectly organized for the development of man.
They are opposed to each other, as the body and the soul,
as the inferior races and the superior races, as savage man
and civilized man, as nature and history. Of this con-
trast, so marked as it is, the history of human societies
will give us the solution, or, at least, will enable us to
obtain a glimpse of the truth.
LESSON LXXY,
THE WONDERS OF CIVILIZATION.
ARNOTT.
THE condition of the present inhabitants of this country
is very different from that of their forefathers. These,
generally divided into small states or societies, had few
relations of amity with surrounding tribes, and their
thoughts and interests were confined very much within
their own little territories and rude habits. Now, how-
ever, every one sees himself a member of one vast civil-
ized society which covers the face of the earth, and no
part of the earth is indifferent to him.
2. A man of small fortune may cast his regards around
him, and say, with truth and exultation, — "I am lodged
in a house that affords me conveniences and comforts,
which even a king could not command some centuries
ago. There are ships crossing the seas in every direction,
to bring what is useful to me from all parts of the earth.
In China, men are gathering the tea-leaf; in America,
they are planting cotton ; in the West-India Islands, they
a^e preparing sugar and coffee ; in Italy, they are feed-
ing silk-worms ; in Saxony, they are shearing the sheep
to make clothing; at home, powerful steam-engines are
UNION FIFTH READER. 266
spinning and weaving, and making cutlery, and pumping
the mines, that materials useftil to me may be procured.
3. " My patrimony is small : yet I have carriages run-
ning day and night on all the roads, to carry my corre-
spondence ; I have roads, and canals, and bridges, to bear
the coal for my winter fire ; nay, I have protecting fleets
and armies around my bappy country, to secure my enjoy-
ment and repose. Then I have editors and printers, who
daily send me an account of what is going on throughout
the world, among all these people who serve me ; and, in
a corner of my house, I have hooks^ the miracle of all my
possessions ; for they transport me instantly, not only to all
places, but to all times.
4. "By my books I -can conjure up before me, to vivid
existence, all the great and good men of antiquity ; and,
for my individual satisfaction, I can make them act over
again the most renowned of their exploits : the orators de-
claim for me ; the historians recite ; the poets sing ; — in a
word, from the equator to the pole, and from the beginning
of time until now, by my books I can be where I please."
This picture is not overcharged, and might be much ex-
tended, — such being the miracle of God's goodness in
providence, that each individual of the civilized millions
that cover the earth, may have nearly the same enjoy-
ments as if he were the single lord of all.
LESSON LXXVI.
THE LOVE OF TRUTH.
HE future^ with its vastness, its infinitude, — so distant,
so beyond our power, — grows out of the use you make
of the present^ so small, so near, so completely at your
12
T
266 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
disposal. Reality borrows from futurity, from eternity.
Germs are the only realities ; possibilities are the only cer-
tainties. What is a seed ? It is the future harvest. Wliat
is the present hour ? It is the future age, — a destiny of
happiness or misery. What is this field before you ? It is
all that you can make of it by industry, by effort, by vigi-
lance, by enterprise.
2. While I note this truth, I stand before a landscape,
the grand prominent feature of which, toward the south-
east, is a lofty expanse of land called Folly Hill. Fifty
years ago, if any man had planted it with oak trees, or
walnut, or pine, or all together, at a cost of a few dollars,
it would to-day have been worth as many thousands ;
whereas it is all covered with worthless trees, the growth
of Nature's chance.
3. A man built a house on the summit, which was blown
down in a great tempest ; and hence the place was named
Folly Hill. That was an external structure^ not character ;
but those broad acres might have been covered with broad,
rich forests, had the man spent a twentieth part of the
money he put into that house, in planting for posterity.
And so with moral planting^ so with principles. They
make no show when you are setting them out, perhaps,
in the seed. Men see not, know not, when it is done,
nor when, nor how, the seeds are germinating ; but they
create anew the whole being, — they transfigure it, they
enrich it to all future time.
4. When the heart comes in magnetic power and sym-
pathetic glow to the great ideas of immortality and personal
responsibility^ then great truths enter in and combine pow-
erfully with the emotional and intellectual being. The
bright ideal that the soul ardently desires and seeks after,
embraces the offer, and they become united in the indissolu'
UNION FIFTH READEB. 267
ble bonds of sympathy and love. But let that season of
sympathy and impressibleness pass away, and the creative
vitality is gone with it.
5. When the mind, the memory, the heart, are vital with
moral magnetism, they will select and hold fast anvd re-
produce the most precious thoughts, just as a steel magnet
will catch and hold iron chips and filings, if you have pre-
pared it for action with magnetic forces ; but otherwise it
will attract nothing. Just so with the mind and heart, —
magnetized, ardent, when held toward great vital truths,
>vliicli, radiating through the mind, fill it with light, like
magnets covered with sparkling diamonds and gold-dust.
LESSON LXXYIL
ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH.
OEORGK WILLIAM CUKTI3.
DAY by day, wherever our homes may be in this great
land, we have watched the passing pageant of the
year. Day by day, from the first quick flush of April,
through the deeper green and richer bloom of May and
June, we have seen the advancing season develop and in-
crease, until, at last, among roses and golden grain, the
year stood perfect, in midsummer splendor.
2. As you have contemplated the brief glory of our
summer, where the clover almost blooms out of snow-drifts,
and the red apples drop almost with the white blossoms,
you have, perhaps, remembered that the flower upon the
tree was only the ornament of a moment, — a brilliant part
of the process by which the fruit was formed, — and that
268 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
the perfect fruit itself was but the seed-vessel, by which
the race of the tree is continued from year to year.
3. Then have you followed the exquisite analogy, that
youth is the aromatic flower upon the tree ; the grave life
of maturer years, its sober, solid fruit ; and the principles
and character deposited by that life, the seeds by which the
glory of this race also is per]3etuated' ?
4. I know the flower in your hand fades while you look
at it. The dream that alhires you, glimmers and is gone.
But flower and dream, like youth itself, are buds and
prophecies. For where, without the perfumed blossoming
of the spring orchards all over the hills and among all the
valleys of New England and New York, would the happy
harvests of New York and New England be ? And where,
without the dreams of the young men lighting the future
with human possibility, would be the deeds of the old men,
dignifying the past with human achievement ? How deeply
does it become us to believe this, who are not only young
ourselves, but living with the youth of the youngest nation
in history ! , '
5. I congratulate you that you are young ; I congratu-
late you that you are Americans. Like you, that country
is in its flower, not yet in its fruit ; and that flower is sub-
ject to a thousand chances before the fruit is set. Worms
may destroy it ; frosts may wither it ; fires may blight it ;
gusts may whirl it away. But how gorgeously it still
hangs blossoming in the garden of time, while its pene-
trating perfume floats all round the world, and intoxicates
all other nations with the hope of liberty !
6. Knowing that the life of every nation, as of each
individual, is a battle, let us remember, also, that the
battle is to those who fight with faith and undespairing de-
votion. Knowing that nothing is worth fighting for at
UNION FIFTH READER. 269
all, unless God reigns, let us, at least, believe as much
in the goodness of God as we do in tlie dexterity of the
devil.* And, viewing this prodigious spectacle of our
country — tliis hope of humanity, this Young America —
our America — taking the sun full in its front, and making
for the future, as boldly and blithely as the young David
for Goliath, let us believe with all our hearts ; and from
that faith shall spring^the fact, that David, and not Goliath,
is to win the day, and that, out of the high-hearted dreams
of wise and good men about our country. Time, however
invisibly and inscrutably, is, at this moment, slowly hewing
the most colossal and resplendent result in history.
LESSOISr LXXVIII.
THE GRAVE OF THE YEAR.
G. A. GAMAGE.
In reading the following stanzas, be careful to avoid a sing-song tone.
The voice should be pitched on the middle kej, and the piece read in a
slow, pathetic manner.
I.
BE composed, every toil and each turbulent motion
That encircles the heart in life's treacherous snares ;
And the hour tliat invites to the calm of devotion.
Undisturbed by regrets, unencumbered by cares.
How cheerless the late blooming face of creation !
Weary Time seems to pause in his rapid career.
And, fatigued with the work of his own desolation.
Looks behind, with a smile, on the grave of the Year !
* See 1 Peter, 5th chap., 8th verse.
270 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
II.
Hark ! the wind whistles rudely ; the shadows are closhig,
Which inwrap his broad path in the mantle of night ;
While Pleasure's gay sons are in quiet reposing,
Undisturbed by the wrecks that have numbered his
flight.
In yon temple, where Fashion's bright tapers are lighted.
Her votaries, in crowds, decked with garlands, appear.
And — as yet their warm hopes by no specter affrighted — -
Assemble to dance round the grave of the Year !
III.
! I hate the false cup that the idlers have tasted,
When I think on the ills of life's comfortless day ;
How the flowers of my childhood their odor have wasted,
And the friends of my youth have been stolen away :
1 think not how fruitless the warmest endeavor
To recall the kind moments, neglected when near,
When the hours that Oblivion has canceled forever
Are interred by her hand in the grave of the Year !
IV.
Since the last solemn reign of this day of reflection.
What throngs have relinquished life's perishing breath !
How many have shed the sad tear of dejection.
And closed the dim eye in the darkness of death !
How many have sudden their pilgrimage ended,
Beneath the lone pall that envelops the bier !
Or to Death's lonely valley have gently descended.
And made their cold beds with the grave of the Year !
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 271
V.
'Tis the Year that, so late its new beauty disclosing,
Rose briglit on the happy, the careless, and gay,
Who now on their pillows of dust are reposing,
While the sod presses damp on their bosoms of clay I
Then think not of bliss, when its smile is expiring, —
Disappointment still drowns it in misery's tear ;
Reflect, and be wise, — for the day is retiring,
And TO-MORROW will dawn on the grave of the Year !
VI.
Yet awhile, and no seasons around us siiall flourish,
But Silence for each her dark mansion prepare,
Where Beauty no longer her roses shall nourish,
Or the lily overspread the wan cheek of Despair !
But the eye shall with luster unfading be brightened,
When it wakens to bliss in yon orient sphere,
By the sunbeams of splendor immortal enlightened.
Which no more shall go down on tlie grave of the
Year!
LESSON LXXIX.
ANOTHER YEAR.
1. A NOTHER year, another year,
IJL Has borne its record to the skies ;
Another year, another year.
Untried, unproved, before us lies ;
We hail with smiles its dawning ray, —
How shall we meet its final day ?
272 SANDEliS' UNION SERIES.
2. Another year ! another year !
Its squandered hours will ne'er return ;
Oh ! many a heart must quail with fear
O'er Memory's blotted page to turn I
No record from that leaf will fade,
Nor one erasure may be made.
3. Another year f another year!
How many a grief has marked its flight I
Some whom we love, no more are here, — -
Translated to the realms of light.
Ah ! none can bless the coming year
Like those no more to greet us here.
4. Another year ! another year !
Oh ! many a blessing, too, was given,
Our lives to deck, our hearts to cheer,
And antedate the joys of Heaven ;
But they, too, slumber in the past.
Where joys and griefs must sink at last.
5. Another year ! another year !
Gaze we no longer on the past ;
Nor let us shrink, with faithless fear.
From the dark shade the future casts.
The past, the future, — what are they
To those whose lives may end to-day ?
6. Another year ! another year !
Perchance the last of life below !
Who, ere its close. Death's call may hear.
None but the Lord of life can know.
Oh to be found, whene'er that day
May come, prepared to pass away !
UNION FIFTH READER. 273
7. Anotlier year ! another year !
Help us earth's tliorny path to tread ;
So may each moment bring us near
To Thee, ere yet our lives are fled.
Savior ! we yield ourselves to Thee
For time and for eternity.
LESSON LXXX.
THE TELESCOPE AND THE MICROSCOPE.
I^HE telescope, by piercing the obscurity which limits
, the range of our unassisted vision, reveals to us count-
less worlds and wonders, which, without its aid, would
never have been observed by human ken. Soon after the
invention of the telescope, another instrument is formed,
called the microscope, which lays open to our view scenes
no less wonderful. By it we are enabled to discern, in
every particle of matter, innumerable living creatures, too
minute for the naked eye to discover. The telescope re-
veals to us a system in every star ; the microscope leads us
to see a world in every atom.
2. The one teaches us that this mighty globe, with the
whole burden of its people and of its countries, is but a
grain of sand on the high field of immensity ; the other^
that every grain of sand may harbor within it the tribes
and families of a busy population. The one tells us of the
magnificence of the world we tread upon : the other re-
deems it from all its insignificance ; for it tells us that in
the leaves of every forest, and in the flowers of every gar-
den, and in the waters of every rivulet, there are worlds
18
274 SANDERS' UNION fcJERIES.
teeming with life, and numberless as are the glories of the
firmament.
3. The one has suggested to us, that, beyond and above
all that is visible to man, there may lie fields of creation
which sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress
of the Almighty's hand to the remotest scenes of the uni-
verse ; the other suggests to us, that, within and beneath
all that minuteness which the aided eye of man has been
able to explore, there may lie a region of invisibles ; and
that, could we draw aside the mysterious curtain which
shrouds it from our senses, w^e might there see a theater
of as many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, • — a uni-
verse within the compass of a point so small, as to elude
all the powers of the microscope, but where the wonder-
working God finds room for the exercise of all His attri-
butes, where He can raise another mechanism of worlds,
and fill and animate them all with the evidences of His
glory.
4. By the telescope, we have discovered that no mag-
nitude, however vast, is beyond the grasp of the Divinity ;
but, by the microscope, w^e have also discovered that no
minuteness, however shrunk from the notice of the human
eye, is beneath the condescension of His regard. Every
addition to the powers of the one instrument, extends the
limit of His visible dominions ; but, by every addition of
the powers of the other instrument, we see each part of
them more crowded than before with the wonders of His
unwearying hand. The one is constantly widening the
circle of His territory ; the other is as constantly filling
up its separate portions with all that is rich, and various,
and exquisite.
5. In a word, by the one we are told that the Almighty
is now at work in regions more distant than geometry has
UNION FIFTH READER. 275
ever measured, and among worlds more manifold than
numbers have ever reached ; but, by the other ^ we are also
told, that with a mind to comprehend the whole, in the
vast compass of its generality, He has also a mind to con-
centrate a close and a separate attention on each and all
of its particulars ; and that the same God, who sends forth
an upholduig influence among the orbs and the movements
of astronomy, can fill the recesses of every single atom
with the intimacy of His presence, and travel, in all the
greatness of His unimpaired attributes, upon every spot
and corner of the universe He has formed.
LESSON LXXXI.
IMMENSITY OF THE UNIVERSE.
O. M. MITCHEL.
" Where is the way where light dwelleth ? and as for darkness, where is
the place thereof, that thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof, and that
thou shouldest know the paths to the house thereof? Knowest thou it, be-
cause thou wast then born, or because the number of thy days is great 1" —
Job xxxviii. 19, 20, 21.
GO with me to yonder " light-house * of the skies."
Poised on its rocky base, behold that wondrous tube
which lifts the broad pupil of its eye high up, as if gazing
instinctively into the mighty deep of space. Look out
upon the heavens, and gather into your eye its glittering
constellations. Pause, and reflect that over the narrow
zone of the retina of your eye a universe is pictured,
painted by light in all its exquisite and beautiful propor-
tions.
2. Look upon that luminous zone which girdles the sky,
* Obserratory.
276 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
— observe its faint and cloudy light. How long, think
you, that light has been streaming, day and night, with a
swiftness which flashes it on its way twelve millions of
miles in each and every minute ? — how long has it fled
and flashed tlu'ough space to reach your eye and tell its
wondrous tale ? Not less than a century has rolled away
since it left its home ! Hast thou taken it at the bound
thereof? Is this the bound, — here the limit from beyond
which light can never come ?
3. Look to yonder point in space, and declare that thou
beholdest nothing, absolutely nothing ; all is blank, and
deep, and dark. You exclaim, — '' Surely no ray illumines
that deep profound ! " Place your eye for one moment to
the tube that now pierces that seeming domain of night,
and, lo ! ten thousand orbs, blazing with light unutterable,
burst on the astonished sight. Whence start these hidden
suns? Whence comes this light from out deep dark-
ness ? Knowest thou, O man ! the paths to the house
thereof?
4. Ten thousand years have rolled away since these
wondrous beams set out on their mighty journey ! Then
you exclaim, — " We have found the boundary of light ,
surely none can lie beyond this stupendous limit : far in
the deep beyond, darkness unfathomable reigns ! Look
once more. The vision changes ; a hazy cloud of light
now fills the field of the telescope. Whence comes the
light of this mysterious object ? Its home is in the mighty
deep, as far beyond the limit you had vainly fixed — ten
thousand times as far — as that limit is beyond the reach
of human vision.
5. And thus we mount, and rise, and soar, from hight
to hight, upward, and ever upward still, till the mighty
series ends, because vision f^ils, and sinks, and dies. Hast
UNION FIFTH READEB. 2/i
thou then pierced the boundary of light ? Hast thou
penetrated the domain of darkness ? Hast thou, weak
mortal, soared to the fountain whence come these won-
drous streams, and taken the light at the hand thereof?
Knowest thou the paths to the house thereof ?
6. Hast thou stood at yonder infinite origin, and bid that
flash depart and journey onward, — days, and months, and
years, century on century, through countless ages, — mill-
ions of years, and never weary in its swift career?
Knowest thou when it started ? " Knowest thou it, be-
cause thou wast then born, or because the number of thy
days is great? " Such, then, is the language addressed by
Jehovah to weak, erring, mortal man. How has the light
of science flooded with meaning this astonishing passage !
Surely, surely we do not misread, — the interpretation
is just.
LESSON LXXXII.
THE FIRST PREDICTER OF AN ECLIPSE.
O. M. MITCHEL.
TO those who have given but little attention to the sub-
ject, even in our own day, with all the aids of modern
science, the prediction of an eclipse seems sufficiently mys-
terious and unintelligible. How, then, it was possible,
thousands of years ago, to accomplish the same great ob-
ject, without any just views of the structure of the system,
seems utterly incredible.
2. Follow then, in imaginatLju, this bold interrogator
of the skies to his solitary mountain summit ; withdrawn
from the world, surrounded by his mysterious circles, there
to watch and ponder through the long -nights of many,
278 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
many years. But hope cheers him on, and smooths his
rugged pathway. Dark and deep is the problem ; he
sternly grapples with it, and resolves never to give up till
victory shall crown his efforts.
3. He has already remarked that the moon's track in
the heavens crossed the sun's, and that this point of cross-
ing was in soma way intimately connected with the coming
of the dread eclipse. He determines to watch, and learn
whether the point of crossing was fixed, or whether the
moon in each successive revolution crossed the sun's path
at a different point. If the sun in its annual revolution
could leave behind him a track^of fire, marking his journey
among the stars, it is found that this same track would be
followed from year to year, and from century to century,
with undeviating precision.
4. But it was soon discovered that it is far different with
the moon. In case she, too, could leave behind her a silver
thread of light sweeping round the heavens, in completing
one revolution, this thread would not join, but would wind
around among the stars, in each revolution crossing the
sun's fiery track at a point west of the previous crossing.
Tliese points of crossing were called the moon^s nodes. At
each revolution the node occurred farther west, until, afler
a circle of about nineteen years, it had circulated in the
same' direction entirely round the ecliptic.
5. Long and patiently did the astronomer watch and
wait. Each eclipse is duly observed, and its attendant cir-
cumstances are recorded ; when, at last, the darkness be-
gins to give way, and a ray of light breaks in upon his
mind. He finds that no eclipse of the sun ever occurs,
unless the new moon is in the act of crossing the sun's
track. Here was a grand discovery. He holds the key
which he believes will unlock the dread mystery.
UNION FIFTH READER. 279
6. To predict an eclipse of the sun, he must sweep for-
ward from new moon to new moon, until he finds some
new moon which should occur, while the moon was in the
act of crossing from one side to the other of the sun's
track. This certainly was possible. He knew the exact
period from new moon to new moon, and from one cross-
ing of the ecliptic to another. With eager eye he seizes
the moon's place in the heavens, and her age, and rapidly
computes where she will be at her next change.
7. He finds the new moon occurring far from the sun's
track ; he runs round another revolution ; the place of the
new moon falls closer to the sun's path, and the next year
closer, until, reaching forward with piercing intellectual
vigor, he, at last, finds a new moon which occurs precisely
at the computed time of her passage across the sun's track.
Here he makes his stand, and announces to the startled
inhabitants of the world, that, on the day of the occurrence
of that new moon, the sim shall expire in dark eclipse.
8. Bold prediction ! Mysterious prophet ! — : with what
scorn must the unthinkinoj world have received this sol-
emn declaration I How slowly do the moons roll -away,
and with what intense anxiety does the stern philosopher
await the coming of that day which should crown him with
victory, or dash him to the ground in ruin and disgrace !
Time to him moves on leaden wings ; day after day, and,
at last, hour after hour, roll heavily away. The last night
is gone ; the moon has disappeared from his eagle gaze in
her approach to the sun, and the dawn of the eventful day
breaks in beauty on a slumbering world.
9. This daring man, stern in his faith, climbs alone to
his rocky home, and greets the sun as he rises and mounts
the heavens, scattering brightness and glory in his path.
Beneath him is spread out the populous city, already teem-
280 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ing with life and activity. The busy morning hum rises
on the still air, and reaches the watching-place of the soh-
tary astronomer. The thousands below him, unconscious
of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue
their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement.
10. The sun slowly climbs the heaven, round, and bright,
and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top al-
most begins to waver in the sternness of his faith as the
morning hours roll away. But the time of his triumph,
long delayed, at length begins to dawn ; a pale and sickly
hue creeps over the face of Nature. The sun has reached
his highest point ; but his splendor is dimmed, his light is
feeble. At last it comes ! Blackness is eating away his
round disk, — onward with slow but steady pace the dark
vail moves, blacker than a thousand nights, — the gloom
deepens, — the ghastly hue of death covers the universe, —
the last ray is gone, and horror reigns !
11. A wail of terror fills the murky air, the clangor
of brazen trumpets resounds, an agony of despair dashes
the stricken millions to the ground ; while that lone man,
erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to
heaven, pours forth 'the grateful gushings of his heart to
God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory.
Search the records of our race, and point me, if you can,
to a scene more grand, more beautiful ! It is to me the
proudest victory that genius ever won. It was the con-
quering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, ^f terror,
all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single arm.
12. And now do you demand the name of this wonder-
ful man ? Alas ! what a lesson of the instability of earthly
fame are we taught in this simple recital ! He who had
raised himself immeasurably above his race. — who must
have been regarded by his fellows as little less than a
UNION FIFTH READEE. 281
god, — who had inscribed his fame on the very heavens,
and had written it in the sun, with a ''pen of iron, and
the point of a diamond," even this one has perished from
the earth ; name, age, country, are all swept into oblivion.
But his proud achievement stands. The monument reared
to his honor stands ; and, although the touch of time has
effaced the lettering of his name, it is powerless, and can
not destroy the fruits of his victory.
LESSON LXXXIIL
THE SONG OF LIGHT.
W. p. PAL5IER.
1- T1R0M the primal gloom, like an orb of Doom,
J_ The sun rolled black and bare,
Till I wove him a vest for his Ethiop breast
Of the threads of my golden hair ;
And when the broad tent of the firmament
Arose on its airy spars,
I penciled the hue of its matchless blue,
And spangled it round with stars.
2. I painted the flowers of the Eden bowsers.
And their leaves of living green ;
And mine were the dyes in the sinless eyes
Of Eden's virgin queen ;
But when the Fiend's art in the trustful heart
Had fastened his mortal spell,
In the silvery sphere of the first-born year,
To the tremblincr earth I fell.
282 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. '
8. When the waves that burst o'er a world accursed
Their work of wrath had sped,
And the Ark's lone few — the faithful and true —
Came forth among the dead,
With the wondrous gleams of my bridal dreams,
I bade their terror cease ;
And I wrote, on the roll of the storm's dark scroll,
God's Covenant of Peace.
4. Like a pall at rest on a senseless breast,
Night's funeral shadow slept, —
Where shepherd swains, on Bethlehem's plains,
Their lonely vigils kept,
When I flashed on their sight the herald bright
Of Heaven's redeeming plan.
As they chanted the morn of a Savior born, —
" Joy ! joy ! to the outcast man ! "
5. Equal favor I show to the lofty and low,
On the just and unjust descend ;
The blind, whose vain spheres roll in darkness and tears,
Tell my smile, — the blest smile of a friend ;
The flower of the waste by my smile is embraced.
As the rose in the garden of kings ;
At the chrysalis bier of the worm I appear.
And lo ! the butterfly wings !
6. From my sentinel steep by the night-brooded deep,
I gaze with unslumbering eye.
While the cynosure * star of the mariner
Is blotted out of the sky ;
* Cyn' o sure, the constellation of the Lesser Bear, to which, as contain-
ing the polar star, the eyes of mariners and travelers are often directed.
UNION FIFTH READER. 283
And guided by me through the merciless sea,
Though sped by the hurricane's wing, '
His compassless, dark, lone, weltering bark
To the haven-home safely I bring.
7. I awaken the flowers in their dew-spangled bowers,
The birds in their chambers of green ;
And mountain and plain glow with beauty again,
As they bask in my matinal sheen.
Oh ! if such be the worth of my presence on earth,
Though fitful and fleeting the while,
What glories must rest on the home of the blest,
Ever bright with the Deity s srnile 1
LESSON LXXXIV.
CHANT AND CHORUS OF THE PLANETS.
ANNA BLACKWELL.
An excellent effect may be produced by letting One Pupil read the first
four lines of each stanza in a clear, distinct tone of voice, and the Wholb
Class read the remaining lines in concert, as indicated.
ONE PUPIL.
1. Father of all !
With joy Thy children stand
To bless the bounty of Thy Parent-hand,
And on Thy name with loving reverence call.
WHOLK CLASS.
From farthest realms of light
Our grateful strains their choral tide unite,
And, at Thy universal throne, in adoration fall !
284 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ONE PUPIL.
2. Great Worker ! we
Rejoice Thy plans to share ;
In Thy wide labors our high part to bear;
Thy ministers, Omnipotent I to be.
WHOLE CLASS.
Thus all the realms of light,
O God ! with Thee in sympathy unite.
And, in a holy and ennobling friendship, work with Thee!
ONE PUPIL.
3. Sovereign Divine!
We glory in the might
Of Thine own uncreated Light,
Whose living rays Thy sacred brow intwine !
WHOLE CLASS.
(<^) Higher and ever higlier,
We soar on tii-eless wing, all-glorious Sire!
Toward the Eternal Throne, whose splendors on all be-
ings shine !
"ONE PUPIL.
4. Love ! measureless,
Exhaustless, unto Thee
We gravitate eternally !
Thou giv'st existence but that Thou may'st bless.
WHOLE CLASS.
To Thee we ever tend,
Seeking with thee, O Central Life ! to blend :
Almighty Love, Creation's source, all beings Thee con-
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 285
LESSON LXXXV.
• INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE EARTH.
CHALMEK8.
THOUGH the earth were to be burned np, though the
trumpet of its dissolution were sounded, though yon sky
were to pass away as a scroll, and every visible glory which
the finger of the Divinity has inscribed on it, were extin-
guished forever, — an event so awful to us, and to every
world in our vicinity, by which so many suns would be ex-
tinguished, and so many varied scenes of life and population
would rush into forge tfulness,' — what is it in the high scale
of the Almighty's workmanship? A mere shred, which,
though scattered into nothing, would leave the universe of
God one entire scene of greatness and of majesty.
2. Though the earth and the heavens were to disappear,
there are other worlds which roll afar ; the light of other
suns shines upon them ; and the sky which mantles them, is
garnished with other stars. Is it presumption to say that
the moral world extends to these distant and unknown re-
gions' ? that they are occupied w^ith })eople' ? that the chari-
ties of home and of neiohborhood flourish there' ? that the
praises of God are there lifted up, and his goodness rejoiced
in' ? that there piety has its temples and its offerings' '^ and
the richness of the divine attributes is there felt and ad-
mired by intelligent worshipers' ?
3. And what is this world in the immensity which teems
with worlds ? and what are they who occupy it ? The universe
at large would suffer as little in its splendor and variety by
the destruction of our planet, as the verdure and sublime
magnitude of a forest would suffer by the fall of a single
leaf. The leaf quivers on the branch which supports it.
286 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
It lies at the mercy of the slightest accident. A breath of
wind tears it from its stem, and it lights on the stream
of water which passes underneath.
4. In a moment, the life, which we know by the micro-
scrope the leaf teems with, is extinguished ; and an occur-
rence so insignificant in the eye of man, and on the scale
of liis observation, carries in it, to the myriads which people
lliis Httle leaf, an event as terrible ami decisive as the de-
struction of a world. Thus we may see the littleness and
insecurity of these myriads. Now, on the grand scale of
the universe, ive^ the occupiers of this ball, which performs
its round among the suns and systems that astronomy has
unfolded, may feel the same littleness and insecurity. We
differ from the leaf only in this circumstance, — that it
would require the operation of greater elements to destroy
us. But these elements exist.
5. The fire which rages within, may lift its devouring
energy to the surface of our planet, and transform it into
one wide and wasting volcano. The sudden formation of
elastic matter in the bowels of the earth — and it lies with-
in the agency of known substances to accomplish this —
may explode it into fragments. The exhalation of noxious
air from below may impart a virulence to the air that is
around us ; it may affect the delicate proportion of its in-
gredients ; and the whole of animated nature may wither
and die under the malignity of a tainted atmosphere. A
blazing comet may cross this fated planet in its orbit ; and
all the terrors which superstition has conceived of such an
event, may be realized.
6. We can not anticipate with precision the consequen-
ces of an event which every astronomer must know lies
within the limits of chance and probability. It may hurry
our globe toward the sun , or drag it to the outer regions of
UNION FIFTH READER. 287
the planetary system, or give it a new axis of revolution ;
and the effect, which I sliall simply announce without ex-
plaining it, would be to change the place of the ocean, and
bring another mighty flood upon our islands and conti-
nents.
7. These are changes which may happen in a single in-
stant of time, and against which nothing known in the
present system of things provides us with any security.
They might not annihilate the earth, but they would un-
people it ; and we, who tread its surface with such firm and
assured footsteps, are at the mercy of devouring elements,
which, if let loose upon us by the hand of the Almighty,
would spread solitude, and silence, and death over the
dominions of the world.
8. Now, it is this littleness and this insecurity which
make the protection of the Almighty so dear to us, and
bring with such emphasis to every pious bosom the holy
lessons of humility and gratitude. The God who sitteth
above, and presides in high authority over all worlds, is
mindful of man ; and though, at this moment. His energy
is felt in the remotest provinces of creation, we may feel
the same security in His providence, as if we were the
objects of His undivided care.
9. It is not for us to bring our minds up to this mysteri-
ous agency. But such is the incomprehensible fact, that
the same Being, whose eye is abroad over the whole uni-
verse, gives vegetation to every blade of grass, and motion
to every particle of blood which circulates through the veins
of the minutest animal ; that, though His mind takes into
His comprehensive grasp immensity and all its wonders, I
am as much known to Him as if I were the single object
of His attention ; that He marks all my thoughts ; that He
gives birth to every feeling and every movement within
288 SANDERS" UNION SERIES.
me ; and that, with an exercise of power which I can
neither describe nor comprehend, the same God who sits
in the highest Heaven, and reigns over the glories of the fir-'
mament, is at my right hand, to give me every breath
which I draw, and every comfort which I enjoy.
LESSON LXXXYJ.
HONOR TO THE PROJECTOR OF THE
ATLANTIC CABLE.
A. A. LOW.
From a speech delivered at a banquet, given to Cyrus W. Field, by the
Chamber of Commerce of New York, Nov. 15, 1866.
IN the days of ancient Rome, when the armies of the
republic were extending her sway over all the sur-
rounding countries, and her generals returned fi'om suc-
cessful war, bearing with them the trophies of victory, it
was their custom to halt outside the gates of the city, and
demand a triumphal entry. When this was gi'anted by
the Roman senate, and adequate preparations had been
made, they were received with demonstrations of applause,
and welcomed by popular acclamation.
2. Triumphal arches, erected two thousand years ago,
still survive to attest the grandeur of earlier and later con-
quests ; and with what imposing ceremonies the heroes of
the republic and the empire were admitted to the capital !
So it has been in all times ; and history is a continuous
record of homage paid to military genius, however ag-
gressive, however destructive of the rights and happiness
of man.
3. Nor has the tribute of respect been confined to those
who have gained success in war ; nor has it been limited
UNION FIFTH READER. 289
to kings and queens, or the commanders of victorious
armies. In all countries and in all ages, persevering,
courageous, faithful, and devoted men, of every caUing and
condition of life, have been found to command the admii-a-
tion of their fellows, and reap the reward of well doing.
Tlie sentiment which honored martial prowess in the days
of ancient Rome, exerts the same power, at the present
tims, over every American heart.
4. In our own day, w4th a simplicity more truly repub-
lican, but with an earnestness not less sincere than that of
the Roman people, we welcome to our cities and our homes
the victorious generals, who, by their valor and their suc-
cess, have re-established for ourselves and for our children
the principles of liberty and good government throughout
our land. Nor have we ever been backward in awarding
to men of high position in the State, or to men distin-
guished as instructors and benefactors of the race, the
honors that are justly their due. In days gone by, it has
been our pridi and our pleasure to welcome, with such
civilities as we know how to render, those who have been
raised to the highest office in the gift of the people, and
alike the prince and the peer of other realms.
5. But we are not met here now to exalt president, po-
tentate, prince, or titled lord ; albeit the friend in whose
honor we are assembled, is known by a Christian name
which seems to have been prophetic of his future renown
as a kinor amono; men, — and his chief title to our reo-ard
comes to us through a long line of descent ; not that genea-
logical line, which, proceeding from father to son, can be
distinctly traced, — uniting family with family, — but that
line, which^ descending from Valentia on the coast of Ire-
land^ and stretching two thousand miles across the bed of the
Atlantic to Neivfoundland^ reaches "•Hearts Content'''' —
290 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
uniting continent with continent — nation with nation —
Europe with America ; bringing all into the most intimate
relations, and securing to each other instant knowledge of
every thing that is of mutual concern.
6. I venture to say there is not an emotion known to
the human soul, — whether of joy or sorrow, of pleasure
or pain, of disappointment following high-wrought expecta-
tion, of anxiety bordering on despair, of hope mounting to
the region of sublimest faith, — that, during these twelve
last years, has not entered into the experience of our long-
tried and well-proved champion.
7. We may fairly claim, that, from first to last, Cyrus
W. Field has been more closely, more consistently, identi-
fied with the Atlantic Telegraph than any other living
man ; and his name and his fame, which the Queen of
Great Britain has justly left to the care of the American
government and people, will be proudly cherished and
gratefully honored. AVe are in daily use of the fruits of
his labors ; and it is meet that the men of commerce,
of literature and law, of science and art, of all the profes-
sions that impart dignity and worth to our nature, should
come together, and give a hearty, joyous, and generous
welcome to this truly chivalrous son of America.
8. We have met, not to celebrate a victory of arms on
land or sea ; not the acquisition of conquered provinces,
annexed to our national domain ; but we have met, rather,
to commemorate an event of vast international interest ; an
epoch in the progress of science ; the attainment of a
great commercial boon ; a triumph over obstacles hitherto
deemed insurmountable. We are met to celebrate an
achievement that reflects much credit upon the handicraft
of the mechanic, on the skill and capacity of the sailor,
on the intelligence and liberality of the merchant, — an
UNION FIFTH READER. 291
achievement which elicits our admiration of the electricians
who have artfully explored the occult laws of Nature, and,
seizing subtle powers hitherto but j)artia]ly developed, have
converted them to the use of man, — giving him a new
sense of what Omnipresence is.
9. We have come here to acknowledge the aid imparted
to the Atlantic Telegraph Company by the Government^
of Great Britain and the United States, through the en-
lightened action of their respective and intelligent states-
men ; to own the important part taken by the naval ships
of both countries ; the generous pecuniary support ren-
dered by the wealthy merchants and factors of Great
Britain ; and, above all, to recognize the goodness of that
Divine Beino* who has crowned the labors of all with
abundant success, — who has vouchsafed such wonderful
gifts to man !
LESSON LXXXYIT.
RECOVERY OF THE LOST ATLANTIC CABLE.
CYRUS W. FIELD.
BUT our work was not over. After landing the cable
safely at Newfoundland, we had another task, — to re-
turn to mid-ocean and recover that lost in the expedition
of last year. This achievement has, perhaps, excited more
surprise than the other. Many even now " do not under-
stand it ; " and every day I am asked, " How was it done ? '*
Well, it does seem rather difficlilt to fish for a jewel at the
bottom of the ocean two and half miles deep. But it is
not so very difficult, when you know how.
2. You may be sure we did not go a-fishing at random,
nor was our success mere " luck." It was the triumph of
292 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
the highest nautical and engineering skill. We had four
ships, and on board of them some of tlie best seamen in
England, — men who knew tlie ocean as a hunter knows
every trail in the forest. There was Capt. Moriarty, who
was in " The Agamemnon " in 1857-8. He was in " The
Great Eastern " last year, and saw the cable wlien it
broke ; and he and Capt. Anderson at once took their ob-
servations so exact, that they could go right to the spot.
3. After finding it, they marked the line of the cable by
a row of buoys; for fogs would come down, and shut out
sun and stars, so that no man could take an observation.
These buoys were anchored a few miles apart. They were
numbered, and each had a flag-staff on it, so that it could
be seen by day, and by a lantern at night. Thus, having
taken our bearings, we stood off three or four miles, so as
to come broadside on, and then, casting over the grapnel,
drifted slowly down upon it, dragging the bottom of the
ocean as we went.
4. At first, it was a little awkward to fish in such deep
w^ater ; but our men got used to it, and soon could cast a
gi'apnel almost as straight as an old whaler throws a har-
poon. Our fishing line was of formidable size. It was
made of rope, twisted with wires of steel, so as to bear a
strain of thirty tons. It took about two hours for the
grapnel to reach bottom ; but we could tell when it struck.
I often went to the bow, and sat on the rope, and could feel
by the quiver that the grapnel was dragging on the bottom
two miles under us.
5. But it was a very slow business. We had storms and
calms, and fogs and squalls. Still we worked on, day after
day. Once, on the 17th of August, we got the cable up,
and had it in full sight for five minutes, — a long, slimy mon-
ster, fresh from the ooze of the ocean's bed ; but our men
UNION FIFTH READEE. 293
began to cheer so wildly, that it seemed to be frightened,
and suddenly broke away, and went down into the sea.
This accident kept us at work two weeks longer; but final-
ly, on the last night of August, we caught it. We had cast
the grapnel thirty times.
6. It was a little before midnight on Friday, that we
hooked the cable ; and it was a little after midnight, Sun-
day morning, when we got it on board. What was the
aiixiety of those twenty-six hours ! The strain on every
man's life was like the strain on the cable itself. When,
finally, it appeared, it was midnight ; the lights of the ship,
and in the boats around our bows, as they flashed in the
faces of the men, showed them eagerly watching for the
cable to ap[)ear on the water.
7. At length, it w^as brought to the surface. All who
were allowed to approach, crowded forward to see it. Yet
not a word was spoken : only the voices of the officers in
command were heard giving orders. All felt as if life and
death hung on the issue. It was only when it was brought
over the bow, and on to the deck, that men dared to
breathe. Even then they hardly believed their eyes.
Some crept toward it to feel of it, to be sure it was there.
8. Then we carried it along to the electricians' room, to
see if our long-sought treasure was alive or dead. A few
minutes of suspense, and a flash told of the lightning cur-
rent again set free. Then did the feeling long pent up
burst forth. Some turned away their heads and wept ;
others broke into cheers ; and the cry ran from man to
man, and was heard down in the engincrrooms, deck below
deck, and from the boats on the water, and the other ships,
while rockets lighted up the dai-kness of the sea.
9. Then, with thankful hearts, we turned our faces
again to the west. But soon the wind arose, and, for thir-
294 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ty-six hours, we were exposed to all the clangers of a storm
on the Atlantic. Yet, in the very hight and fury of the
gale, as I sat in the electricians' room, a flash of light came
up from the deep, which, having crossed to Ireland, came
back to me in mid-ocean, telling that those so dear to me,
whom I had left on the banks of the Hudson, were well,
and following us with their wishes and their prayers. This
was like a whisper of God from the sea, bidding me keep
heart and hope.
10. " The Great Eastern" bore herself proudly through
the storm, as if she knew that the vital chord, which was
to join two hemispheres, hung at her stern ; and so, on
Saturday, the 7th of September, we brought our second
cable safely to the shore. Even the sailors caught the
enthusiasm of the enterprise, and were eager to share in
the honor of the achievement. Brave, stalwart men they
were, — at home on the ocean and in the storm, — of that
sort that have carried the flag of England around the globe.
I see them now as they dragged the shore-end up the beach
at Heart's Content, hugging it in their brawny arms as if
it were a shipwrecked child, whom they had rescued from
the dangers of the sea. God bless them all !
11. Such, in brief, is the story of the Telegraph. It
has been a long, hard struggle, — nearly thirteen years
of anxious watching and ceaseless toil. Often my heart
has been ready to sink. Many times, when wandering in
the forests of Newfoundland, in the pelting rain, or on the
deck of ships, on dark, stormy nights, — alone, far from
home, — I have alryiost accused myself of madness and folly
to sacrifice the peace of my family, and all the hopes of
life, for what might prove, after all, but a dream. I have
seen my companions one and another falling by my side,
and feared that J, too, might not live to see the end. And
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 295
yet one hope has led me on, and I have prayed that I
might not taste of deatli till this work was accomplished.
That prayer is answered ; and now, beyond all acknowl-
edorments to men, is the feeling of gratitude TO Al-
MiGHTv God.
LESSON LXXXVIII.
HOW CYRUS LAID THE CABLE.
J. O. SAXE.
1. rtOME, listen all unto my song;
l^ It is no silly fable ;
'Tis all about the mighty cord
They call the Atlantic Cable,
2. Bold Cyrus Field, he said, says he,
" I have a pretty notion
That I can run a telegraph
Across the Atlantic Ocean."
8. Then all the people laughed, and said
They'd like to see him do it ;
He might get half-seas-over, but
He never could go through it.
4. To carry out his foolish plan
He never would be able ;
He miglit as well go hang himself
With his Atlantic Cable.
5. But Cyrus was a valiant man,
A fellow of decision.
And heeded not their mocking words,
Their laughter and derision.
296 SANDERS' UNION SEKIES.
6. Twice did his bravest efforts fail,
And yet liis mind was stable ;
He wasn't the man to break liis heart
Because he broke his cable.
7. " Once more, my gallant boys ! " he cried ;
*' Three times ! — you know the fable, —
(ril make it thirty^'' muttered he,
" But I will lay this cable ! ")
8. Once more they tried, — Jiurrafi! hurrah !
What means this great commotion ?
The Lord be praised ! the cable's laid
Across the Atlantic Ocean !
9. Loud ring the bells ! — for, flashing through
Six hundred leagues of water,
Old Mother England's benison
Salutes her eldest daughter 1
•j=>
10. O'er all the land the tidings sped ;
And soon, in every nation,
They'll hear about the cable with
Profoundest admiration !
11. Now lonor live all the noble souls
Who helped our gallant Cyrus !
And may their com'age, faith, and zeal.
With emulation fire us !
12. And may we honor evermore
The manly, bold, and stable ;
And tell our sons, to make them brave,
How Cyrus laid the cable !
UNION FIFTH READEE. 297
LESSON LXXXIX.
* Trot's exiled bands, J^neas and liis followers, who, after the destruc-
tion of Troy by the Greeks, built ships, and in search of Italy, their
destined land, were tossed and harassed by unpropitious winds, caused
by the wrath of Juno. The wanderings and trials of ^neas constitute
the theme of Virgil's ^neid.
- Gen' o a's god-like child, Columbus, a native of Genoa. See note, page
161.
^ May' flow er, the name of the a'CSScI in which the Pilgrims sailed to Amer-
ica. They landed on Plymouth Eock, Dec. 11, 1020.
* Frank' lin. See note, page 145.
* Morse, the inventor of the Telegraph, as used in the United States.
THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH.
(Successfully laid between Europe and America July 27, 1866.)
REV. GEORGE LANSING TAYLOR.
1. Glory to God above !
Tlie Lord of Life and love !
Who makes His curtains clouds and waters dark ;
Wlio s])reads His chambers on the deep,
While all its armies silence keep ;
Whose hand of old, world-rescuing, steered the ark ;
Who led Troy's bands ^ exiled.
And Genoa's god-like child,^
And Mayflower,^ grandly wild.
And now has guided safe a grander Bark ;
Who, from her iron loins.
Has spun the thread that joins
Two yearning worlds made one with lightnihg spark.
2: Praise God ! praise God ! praise God !
The sea obeyed His rod,
What time His saints marched down its deeps of yore ;
^98 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
And now for Commerce, Science, Peace,
Redemption, Freedom, Love's increase.
He bids great Ocean's barriers cease.
While flames celestial flash from shore to shore !
And nations pause 'mid battles' deadliest roar,
Till Earth's one heart swells upward, and brims o'er
With thanks ! thanks! thanks, and praise !
To Him who lives always !
Who reigns through endless days !
While halleluiahs sweet
Roll up as incense meet.
And all Earth's crowns are cast before His feet !
3 "And there was no more sea,"
Spake in rapt vision he
Who " a new heaven and a new earth " beheld !
And lo ! we see the day
That ends its weltering sway,
And weds the nations, long asunder held !
Twelve years of toil, of failure, fear,
Thousands to scorn and few to cheer,
What are they now to ears that hear,
To eyes that see their triumph near?
When lightning-flames the ends of earth shall weld.
And wrong and right, by lightning beams dispelled,
Shall lift from all man's race.
And God the Father's face
Shall smile o'er all the world millennial grace I
4 Franklin ^ ! and Morse ^ I and Field !
Great shades of centuries yield !
Make way for these in your sublimest throng !
Heroes of blood, great in immortal wrong.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 299
Stoop your helmed heads, and blush ! O seers of song !
Of blood and strife no longer sing ;
In heaven Her transport smite the string ;
Soar, soar on purer, rapter wing,
Till all the throbbing azure ring
The song that erst began : —
" Good will and peace toward man,"
Redeemed and bought with blood,
One mighty brotherhood !
And every bond that brings heart nearer heart,
Shall bring man nearer God, and bear a part
In that great work benign, —
The work of love, that makes all worlds divine !
LESSON XC.
* Or' ptte an, pertaining to Orphcns, one of the ancient Grecian bards, who
is fabled to have tamed the wildest animals by the music of his lyre.
Hence, an Orphean song is one that charms like the strains of Orpheus.
2 An^ ti podes or An tip'o des (anti, opposite or against; podes, feet;)
with feet opposite. People who live on the opposite side of the globe,
and whose feet are, of course, directly opposite to the feet of those who
live on this side.
THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.
ANON.
1- TTARK ! the warning needles click,
XJ_ Hither — thither — clear and quick.
He who guides their speaking play.
Stands a thousand miles away !
Here we feel the electric thrill
Guided by his simple will ;
300 SANDERS' UNION SEKIES.
Here the instant message read,
Brought with more than hghtning speed.
Sing who will of Or'phe-an ^ lyre,
Ours the wonder-working wire !
2. Let the sky be dark or clear,
Comes the faithful messenger ;
Now it tells of loss and grief.
Now of joy in sentence brief,
•Now of safe or sunken ships.
Now the murderer outstrips.
Now of war and fields of blood.
Now of fire, and now of flood.
Sing who will of Orphean lyre,
Ours the wonder-working wire !
3. Think the thought, and speak the word,
It is caught as soon as heard,
Borne o'er mountains, lakes, and seas,
To the far an-tip' o-des ; ^
Boston speaks at twelve o'clock,
Natchez reads ere noon the shock.
Seems it not a feat sublime' ?
Intellect has conquered Time !
Sing who will of Orphean lyre,
Ours the wonder-working wire I
4. Marvel I triumph of our day.
Flash all ignorance away ! -
Flash sincerity of speech.
Noblest aims to all who teach ;
Flash till Power shall learn the Right,
Flash till Reason conquer Might ;
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 301
Flash resolve to every mind ;
Manhood flash to all mankind !
Sing who will of Orphean lyre,
Ours the wonder-working wire !
LESSON XCI.
^ Se' lah, a word of doubtful meaning, by some supposed to indicate special
attention to the subject ; by others, to signify silence or a pause in the
musical performance" of the song while the instrumental performers
played some variation or intervening melody.
BEATITUDES.
In reading these sentences, an excellent effect may be produced by divid-
ing the class equally into two parts, and letting one part read, in concert, the
line or lines marked \st Voice; and the other part, the line or lines marked
2d Voice ; or one pupil may read that part marked \st Voice, and the next
pupil the part marked 2c? Voice, alternately.
\st Voice. Blessed are the poor in spirit ;
2d Voice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
1 V. Blessed are they that mourn ;
2 V. for they shall be comforted.
1 V. Blessed are the meek;
2 V. for they shall inherit the earth.
1 V. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst
after righteousness ;
2 V. for they shall be filled.
1 V. Blessed are the merciful ;
2 V, for they shall obtain mercy.
1 V. Blessed are the pure In heart ;
2 V. for they shall see God.
302 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
1 V. Blessed are the peace-makers ;
2 V, for thej shall be called the children of God.
1 V. Blessed are they which are persecuted for right-
eousness' sake ;
2 V. for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
1 V. Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and per-
secute you, and shall say all manner of evil
against you falsely, for my sake.
2 V, Rejoice, and be exceeding glad ; for great is your
reward in heaven.
1 V, Blessed is he that considereth the poor :
2 K the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble.
1 V, Blessings are upon the head of the just ,
2 V, but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked.
1 V. The memory of the just is blessed ;
2 F". but the name of the wicked shall rot.
1 V. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house ;
2 F". they will be still praising thee. Selah.^
1 V. Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound ;
2 V, they shall walk, O Lord ! in the light of thy coun-
tenance.
1 V. Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, that de-
lighteth greatly in His commandments.
2 V. His seed shall be mighty upon the earth ; the gen-
eration of the upright shall be blessed.
1 V. Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel
of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of
shiners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
2 F". But his delight is in the law of the Lord ; and in
His law doth he meditate day and night.
UNION FIFTH READER. 303
1 V. Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily
at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors.
2 F. For whoso findeth me, findeth life, and shall obtain
favor of the Lord.
1 F. Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and
whose hope the Lord is.
2 F. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and
that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and
shall not see when heat cometh.
1 F. Blessed is that servant, whom his lord, when he
cometh, shall find so doing.
2 F. Verily I say unto you, that he shall make him' ruler
over all his goods.
1 F". Blessed is the man that endureth temptation ;
2 F. for, when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of
life, which the Lord hath promised to them that
love Him.
1 F. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from
henceforth :
2 F. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their
labors, and their works do follow them.
1 F. Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first res-
urrection :
2 F. on such the second death hath no power.
1 F. Blessed are they that do His commandments ;
2 F, that they may have right to the tree of life, and
may enter in through the gates into the city.
1 F. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting
to everlasting;.
2 F. Amen, and Amen !
304 SANDEES' UNION SEEIES.
LESSON XCII. .
* Kep'ler, see note, page 157.
* Brahe, Tycho, a distinguished astronomer, was born Dec. 14, 1546;
and died Oct. 24, 1601. The celebrated Observatory of Oranienberg,
or the city of the heavens, was founded in 1576, and supplied with instru-
ments. Within its walls, Tycho Brahe carried on those observations
with which his name is inseparably connected.
' New' ton, see note, page 94.
* Pope, Alexander, a celebrated English poet, was born in London,
1688; and died 1744. He was deformed, and small in stature. The
principal of his poetical writings are entitled " Essay on Criticism,"
"Essay on Man," "Moral Essays." He also translated the Iliad and
Odyssey of Homer.
* Arctu'rus, a fixed star of the first magnitude in the constellation
Bootes.
* Nept' une, a large planet beyond Uranus, discovered by Galle of Berlin,
Sept. 23, 1846. Its mean distance from the sun is 2,850,000,000
miles, and its period of revolution is about 164 years.
THE PRIDE OF IGNORANCE.
S. W. TAYLOR.
TELL me not of tlie pride of scientific men ! We have,
it is true, some few cases of the pride of learning, but
a multitude of the pride of ignorance. The grossly igno-
rant man, imagining himself placed at the very center of
the earth's fancied plane, and exactly beneath the highest
point in heaven's arch, with arms akimbo, struts forth, as
the principal occupant of the material universe. This is
manifest to common observation. Something like this is
also seen among the different classes in the same school,
and in communities, among individuals of different grades
of civilization.
2. An accurate knoAvledge of men and things, naturally
represses pride and promotes Jiumility. The diligent stu-
dent of Nature, as he gains a deeper and deeper knowledge
UNION FIFTH READER. 305
of the great book of God's wisdom, goodness, and power,
necessarily sees all finite glory dwindling and fading ; ho
mnst see himself, too, depreciating in comparison with the
extent and grandeur of the objects Avhich successively oc-
cupy his vast and illuminated field of view. It is evident,
that the more we learn of what other men have accom-
plished in pursuits and circumstances like our own, and
the more clearly Ave discover how much we depend on
others for what we possess and accomplish, the more effect-
ually will our humility be cultivated.
3. The philosopher is in circumstances peculiarly favor-
able to make him feel and acknowledge his heavy indebt-
edness to his predecessors and contemporaries. He can
not fail of being convinced, that, were any generation of
men entirely destitute of transmitted knowledge, they could
hardly, within the ordinary limits of human life, find time
to clothe themselves^ and erect permanent dwellings. They
must commence life as savages, and, at death, have nothing
better than blankets and Avigwams to bequeath to their
savage successors.
4. Had not Kepler^ inherited the avails of Tycho
Brahe's- labors in descriptive astronomy, it is certain he
could never have been distinguished in physical astronomy,
as the legislator of the skies. Without a legacy from his
ancestors, even Newton^ must have been comparatively
poor ; and the scientific wealth amassed and transmitted by
Newton and others, has been the making of their heirs, now
the illustrious philosophers of Europe and America.
5. But if you chance to meet with a stubborn case of
pride in a philosopher, do not hastily dismiss the case a»
incurable. He can be cured of any extraordinary degreo'
of pride, if he has a breath of the spirit of true philosophy.
But do nothing, I beseech you, to lessen his amount of sci-
20
806 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ence ; rather follow the good old specific of Pope : ^ Give
him to drink more deeply. Direct his attention to the
treasures of science already amassed.
6. Show him the schools, the laboratories, and observa-
tories of Europe and the United States of America ; show
him their libraries, whose shelves are bending beneath pon-
derous tomes, the faithful records of literary and philosophic-
al research ; show him the rich gifts. of science to agricult-
ure, commerce, and the whole sisterhood of the arts of
peace ; show him not only what has been accomplished,
but show him every enlightened part of the earth, at this
moment busy as a bee-hive in all the departments of phi-
losophy.
7. Then conduct him into those extensive fields of sober
enterprise which sound philosophy has projected, and you
give him the position which Newton held when under the
conviction that all wdiich philosophy has done^ in compari-
son with what it is destined to accomplish in ages to come,
amounts to nothing more than the examination of a few
pebbles and pearls thrown upon the shore of a broad ocean,
from the undiminished treasures of its immense bed.
8. If our patient is not yet recovered, immerse him in
the great deep of space. Show him something of the ex-
tent of JehovaKs ivorks. Bid him look at himself, and then
at the earth, Avhose extended radius spreads the earth's sur-
face into an apparent plain. Next, equip him with the
quick wings of light, putting him upon a rate of traveling
equivalent to twenty-four diameters of the earth in a sin-
gle second. Within eight minutes he finds himself alight-
ing upon the sun, compared with which, instead of the
earth as a standard of bulk, he has the mortification to
perceive that his body has shrunk from the dimensions of
three cubic feet to the one two-hundredth part of a cubic
inch, — physically. J a contemptible insect !
UNION FIFTH READER. 307
9. Here let him stop long enough to ask the question,
which milHons of years will not answer, — "What won-
ders, what treasures, are contained m that deep ocean of
light ? " Thence let him, witli undiminished velocity,
speed his way to Sirius,* whose matchless orb, at the end,
perhaps, of a three-years' flight, he beholds under his feet,
exei ting upon a splendid retinue of planets, in the powers
of light, heat, and gravitation, the energy of fourteen suns,
such as the one in whose light we are rejoicing.
10. If still there is anything of our philosopher's jt?nc?e
or of himself remaining, let him range himself within the
sublime circumference of the galaxy ; let him, with the
most powerful telescope in use, spy out some faint nebula
most delicately fringing the absurdly imagined borders of
infinity, and not unlike the subtle vapor which the keen-
eyed little girl can possibly discern issuing from the throat
of the singing-sparrow. But send him not thither with
only the speed of light ; for, with iliat^ thousands of years
might not suffice for the journey. Give him, rather, the
mysterious power of the imagination^ by which he can as-
sume, with equal facility, and in equal time, stations indefi-
nitely near, and infinitely remote.
11. From the station first assumed, he sees that nebula
resolved into brilliant points ; from the next, he sees each
of those points bright as Arcturus^ or Capella ; and, from
the next station, he beholds it a glorious sun! What had
been deemed the center and circumference of the material
universe, have reciprocated their positions ; and, from one
of those foreign suns, he looks back after the locality of
his native earth ; when, lo ! the vast orbit of Neptune^ has
closed in upon the focus occupied by our sun ; the sun
himself has dwindled to a point, — ihut point has vanished,
* Sir' I us, the large, bright star called the Dog-star.
308 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and taken with it all earth-born philosophers, with their
works, the scene of their labors, and the entire sphere of
their observation. How, naturally^ must our philosopher
now adopt the language of the sublime prophet with ref-
erence to the infinite Creator! — " All nations before Him
are as nothing, and they are counted to Him less than
nothing, and vanity." *
LESSON XCIII.
^ Ar CHI me'des, the most celebrated of the ancient geometers, was born
at Syracuse about 291 years b.c. ; and died 212 b.c. He was related
to Hiero, King of Syracuse, Avho deemed it a great honor to have so
distinguished a philosopher as his relative. He devoted his time to the
cultivation of mathematical and physical sciences. He invented the
screw for raising water, which bears his name ; and Ave owe to him
the process of detecting the adulteration of the precious metal in King
Hicro's crown. Such was his joy at this discovery, it is said he rushed
through the streets of Syracuse in a state of nudity, exclaiming, —
" Eureka, Eureka ! " — "/ have found, I have found! "
2 Em py re' an, the highest heaven, where the pure element of fire was sup-
posed by the ancients to subsist.
.* Pha' e ton, the son of Phoebus and Clymene, or of Cephalus and Aurora,
that is, the son of light, or of the sun. He is fabled to have begged of
Phoebus that he would permit him to guide the chariot of the sun ; in
doing which he manifested want of skill ; and, being struck with a
thunderbolt by Jupiter, he was hurled headlong into the River Po.
SCIENCE AND ART.
D. BREW^STEU.
IN the study of natural philosophy, chemistry, and natu-
ral history, a wide field of knowledge will be spread
out before you, in Avhich every fact you observe, and every
truth you learn, will surprise and delight you. Creations
of boundless extent, displaying unlimited power, matchless
Isaiah, 40th chapter, 17 th verse.
UNION FIFTH READER. 809
wisdom, and overflowing beneficence, will, at every step,
surround you. The infinitely great and the infinitely little
will compete for your admiration ; and, in contemplating
the great scheme of creation which these inquiries present
to your minds, you will not overlook the almost superhu-
man power by which it has been developed.
2. Fixed upon the pedestal of his native earth, and with
no other instrument but the eye and the hand, the genius
of man has penetrated the dark and distant recesses of
time and space. The finite has comprehended the in-
finite. The being of a day has pierced backwards into
primeval tiyne^ deciphering the subterranean monuments,
and inditing its chronicle of countless ages. In the
rugged crust and shattered pavement of our globe, he has
detected those gigantic forces by which our seas and conti-
nents have changed places, — by which our mountain
ranges have emerged from the bed of the ocean, — by
which the gold, and the silver, the coal, and the iron, and
the lime, have been thrown into the hands of man as the
materials of civilization, — and by which mighty cycles
of animal and vegetable life have been embalmed and
entombed.
3. In your astronomical studies^ the Earth on which you
dwell will stand forth in space a suspended ball, taking its
place as one of the smallest of the planets, and like them
pursuing its appointed path, — the arbiter of times and
seasons. Beyond our planetary system, now extended, by
the discovery of Neptune, to nearly three thousand mill-
ions of miles from the sun, and throughout the vast ex-
panse of the universe, the telescope will exhibit to you
new suns and systems of worlds, infinite in number and
variety, sustaining, doubtless, myriads of living beings, and
presenting new spheres for the exercise of divine power
and beneficence. . . .
810 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
4. The advances which have recently been made in the
mechanical and useful arts, have already begun to influence
our social condition, and must affect still more deeply our
systems of education. The knowledge which used to con-
stitute a scholar, and fit him for social and intellectual in-
tercourse, will not avail him under the present ascendency
of practical science. New and gigantic inventions mark
almost every passing year, — the colossal tubular bridge^
conveying the monster train over an arm of the sea, — the
submarine cable, carrying the pulse of speech beneath two
thousand miles of ocean, — the monster ship freighted with
thousands of lives, ^ and the huge rifle-gun, throwing its
fatal charge across miles of earth or 9f ocean.
5. New ai'ts, too, useful and ornamental, have sprung
up luxuriantly around us. New powers of Nature have
been evoked, and man communicates with man across seas
and continents with more certainty and speed than if he
liad been endowed with the velocity of the race-horse, or
provided with the pinions of the eagle. Wherever we
are, in short, art and science surround us. They have
given birth to new and lucrative professions. Whatever
we purpose to do, they help us. In our houses, they greet
us with light and heat. When we travel, we find them at
every stage on land, and at every harbor on our shores.
They stand beside our board by day, and beside our couch
by night.
6. To our thoughts they give the speed of lightning ;
and to our time-pieces, the punctuality of the sun ; and
though they can not provide us with the boasted lever of
Archimedes^ to move the earth, or indicate the spot upon
which we must stand, could we do it, they have put into
our hands tools of matchless power, by which we can study
the remotest worlds ; and they have furnished us with an
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 311
intellectual plummet^ by which we can sound the depths of
the earth, and count the cycles of its endurance.
7. In his hour of presumption and ignorance, man has
tried to do more than this ; but, though he was not per-
mitted to reach the heavens with his cloud-capped tower
of stone, and has tried in vain to navigate the aerial ocean^
it was given him to ascend into the empyrean^ by chains
of thought which no lightning could fuse, and no comet
strike ; and though he has not been allowed to grasp with
an arm of flesh the products of other worlds, or tread upon
the pavement of gigantic planets, he has been enabled to
scan, with more than an eagle's eye, the mighty creations
in the bosom of space, — to march intellectaally over the
mosaics of sidereal systems, and to follow the adventurous
Phaeton^ in a chariot which can never be overturned.
LESSON XCIY.
^ Gaul, a native or inhabitant of Gaul, the name anciently given to France.
^ Goth, one of an ancient tribe or nation, of Asiatic origin, who overran
the Roman Empire, and took an important part in its subversion.
ADVANCE.
D. F. MCCARTHY.
1. C\ OD bade the Sun with golden step sublmie
\X Advance !
He whispered in the listening ear of Time,
Advance !
He bade the guiding Spirit of the stars.
With lightning speed, in silver-shining cars,
Along the bright floor of his azure hall
Advance !
Sun, Stars, and Time obey the voice, and all
Advance !
312 . SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
2. The river at its bubbling fountain cries,
Advance !
The clouds proclaim, like heralds, through the skies,
Advance !
Throughout the world, the mighty Master's laws
Allow not one brief moment's idle pause ;
The earth is full of life, — the swelling seeds
Advance !
And summer hours, like flowery harnessed steeds,
Advance !
p'
To man's most wondrous hand the sam.e voice crie^
Advance I
Go, clear the woods, and o'er the bounding tide
Advance !
Go, draw tlie marble from its secret bed,
And make the cedar bend its giant head ;
Let domes and columns through the wandering air
Advance !
The world, O man ! is thine. But wouldst thou sliax^e?
Advance !
Unto the soul of man the same voice spoke,
Advance !
From out the chaos thunder-like it broke.
Advance !
Go, track the comet in its wheeling race,
And drag the lightning from its hiding-place ;
From out the night of ignorance and tears,
Advance !
For love and hope, borne by the coming years,
Advance I
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 813
6. All heard, and some obeyed, the great command,
Advance !
It passed along from listening land to land,
Adv ance !
The strong grew stronger, and the weak grew strong,
As passed the war-cry of the world along, —
Awake, ye nations ! know your powers and riglits ;
Advance !
Through Hope and Work, to Freedom's new delights,
Advance !
6. Knowledge came down, and waved her steady torch,
Advance !
Sages proclaimed, 'neath many a marble j)orch.
Advance !
As rapid lightning leaps from peak to peak,
Tlie Gaul,* the Goth,^ the Roman, and the Greek,
The painted Briton, caught the winged word,
Advance !
And earth grew young, and caroled as a bird,
Advance !
LESSON XCY.
THE POLAR STAR.
WESTBY GIBSON.
1. CJTAR of the North, whose clear, cold light
KJ Breaks on the darkness of the sky,
When solemn-paced the pilgrim Night
In silence journeys by !
Watcher by heaven's embattled walls,
How far through Nature's circle falls
The radiance of thine eye ?
14
814 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Thou center-point of myriad spheres,
Through aged Time's gi'ay round of years I
2. Bright dweller by the unfooted North,
New light hath ever clothed thy face,
Since the high God first launched thee forth
Into the boundless space ;
Mountains have from their base been cast, —
Earthquakes have opened caverns vast, —
Old Ocean changed its place ;
Nations and tribes of star-bright fame
Have perished, — thou art still the same I
8. Thy glance is ever bold and bright, —
Thou never weariest in thy task ;
What time departs the sable night,
And morn with rosy mask
Glides on through clouds, like hills of snow,
Or, in the noontide's passionate glow.
All earth and ocean bask ;
Till westward, down the reddening air
Drops the round sun, — thou still art there !
4. Long wert thou worshiped as a guide
By the bold dwellers on the sea,
Where neither mark nor track abide, —
Changefully eternally !
When o'er them crept the night-hours dark.
Through the wide waste they urged the bark.
By science won from thee,
Till the dark presence of the storm
Smote from their eyes thy beaming form.
UNION FIFTH READER. 315
Wliat ages from von arctic bed
»
Hath thy deep-fountained radiance shone !
Nor may that golden flame be dead
So long as Time rolls on ;
But still, Avith clear and steadfast rays,
Emblem that faith by Avhich we gaze
On the Eternal One, —
The beacon by whose light we ride,
Triumphing o'er Life's dangerous tide.
O brio;ht and beautiful ! in thee
We read God's love — His power, how strong,
That through the sky's immensity
Thy giant mass out-flung !
So distant from our rolling world.
That, were thy sphere of beauty hurled
From the resounding throng.
Thousands of years might pass away
Ere thine old realm in darkness lay.
LESSON XCYI. -
^ O lym' pi an, pertaining' to Olymjius, a mountain in Thessaly, the fabled
abode of the gods.
' Ti' TANS, giants of ancient mythology, enormous in size and strength.
^ Si' na 1, a mountain in the peninsula of Arabia, from the summit of
which God published his law to the Israelites.
' Cal' va ry, the name given to a slight elevation north of the ancient city
of Jerusalem, perhaps half a mile distant from the temple, and noted
as the place of the crucifixion of Christ.
^ A poc A I ifp' TIC, ])ertaining to the Revelation of St. John, in Patmos,
near th i close of the first century.
816 SANDEBS' UNION SERIES.
MOUNTAINS.
E. M. MORSE.
MOUI^TAINS! who was your Builder? Who laid
your awful foundations in the central fires, and piled
your rocks and snow-capped summits among the clouds ?
Who placed you in the gardens of the world, like noble
altars, on which to offer the sacrificial gifts of many
nations? Who reared your rocky walls in the barren
desert, like towering pyramids, like monumental mounds,
like giants' graves, like dismantled piles of royal ruins,
telling a mournful tale of glory, once bright, but now fled
forever, as flee the dreams of a midsummer's night?
Who gave you a home in the islands of the sea, — those
emeralds that gleam among the waves, — those stars of
ocean that mock the beauty of the stars of night ?
2. Mountains ! I know who built you. It was God !
His name is written on your foreheads. He laid your
corner-stones on that glorious morning when the orchestra
of Heaven sounded the anthem of creation. He clothed
your high, imperial forms in royal robes. He gave you
a snowy garment, and wove for you a cloudy vail of crim-
son and gold. He crowned you with a diadem of icy
jewels ; pearls from the arctic seas ; gems from the frosty
pole. Mountains ! ye are glorious. Ye stretch your gran-
ite arms away toward the vales of the undiscovered ; ye
have a lonmns: for immortality.
3. But, Mountains ! ye long in vain. I called you glo-
rious, and truly ye are ; but your glory is like that of the
starry heavens, — it shall pass away at the trumpet-blast
of the angel of the Most High. And yet ye are worthy
of a high and eloquent eulogium. Ye were the lovers of
the daughters of the gods ; ye are the lovers of the daugh-
UNION FIFTH READER. 317
ters of Liberty and Religion now ; and in your old and
feeble age the children of the skies shall honor your bald
heads. The clouds of heaven — those shadows of Olym-
pian ^ power, those spectral phantoms of dead Titans ^ —
kiss your summits, as guardian angels kiss the brow of
infant nobleness. On your sacred rocks I see the foot-
prints of the Creator ; I see the blazing fires of Sinai,'
and hear its awful voice ; I see the tears of Calvary,^ and
listen to its mighty groans.
4. Mountains ! ye are proud and haughty things. Ye
hurl defiance at the storm, the lightning, and the wind ;
ye look down with deep disdain upon the thunder-cloud ;
ye scorn the dev'astating tempest ; ye despise the works of
puny man ; ye shake your rock-ribbed sides with giant
laughter, wlien the great earthquake passes by. Ye stand
as giant sentinels, and seem to say to the boisterous bil-
lows, — '' Thus far shalt thou come, and here shall thy
proud waves be stayed ! "
5. Mountains i ye are growing old. Your ribs of gran-
ite are getting w eak and rotten ; your muscles are losing
their fatness ; your hoarse voices are heard only at distant
intervals ; your volcanic heart throbs feebly ; and your
lava-blood is thickening, as the winters of many ages
gather their chilling snows around your venerable forms.
The brazen sunlight laughs in your old and wrinkled faces ;
the pitying moonlight nestles in your hoary locks ; and the
silvery starlight rests upon you like the halo of inspiration
that crowned the heads of dying patriarchs and prophetSo
Mountains ! ye must die. Okl Father Time, that sexton
of earth, has dug you a deep, dark tomb ; and in silence
ye shall sleep after sea and shore shall have been pressed
by the feet of the apocalyptic^ angel, through the long
watches of an eternal night.
318 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON XCYII.
THE ALPS.
WILLIS GAYLOKD CLARK.
1. T)ROUD monuments of God ! sublime ye stand
X Among the wonders of His mighty hand ;
With svimmits soaring in the upper sky,
Wliere the broad day looks down with burning eye ;
Where gorgeous clouds in solemn pomp repose,
Flinging rich shadows on eternal snows :
' Piles of triumphant dust, ye stand alone.
And hold, in kingly state, a peerless throne !
2^, Like olden conquerors, on high ye rear
The regal ensign and the glittering spear :
Round icy spires the mists, in wreaths unrolled,
Float ever near, in purple or in gold ;
. And voiceful torrents, sternly rolling there.
Fill with wild music the unpillared air.
What garden or what hall, on earth beneath,
Thrills to such tones as o'er the mountains breathe ?
8. There, through long ages past, those summits shone
When morning radiance on their state was thrown ;
There, when the summer-day's career was done,
Played the last glory of the sinking sun ;
There, sprinkling luster o'er the cataract's shade,
The chastened moon her glittering rainbow made ;
And, blent with pictured stars, her luster lay
Where to still vales the free streams leaped away,
4. Where are the thronging hosts of other days,
Whose banners floated o'er the Alpine ways ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 319
Who, through their high defiles, to battle wound,
While deadly ordnance stirred the hights around ?
Gone, like the dream that melts at early mom
When the lark's anthem through the sky is borne ;
Gone, like the wrecks that sink in ocean's spray ;
And chill Oblivion murmurs, — " Where are they?"
Yet " Alps on Alps " still rise ; the lofty home
Of storms and eagles, where their pinions roam :
Still round their peaks the magic colors lie,
Of morn and eve, imprinted on the sky ;
And still, while kings and thrones shall fade and fall,
And empty crowns lie dim upon the pall, —
Still shall their glaciers flash, their torrents roar,
Till kingdoms fail, and nations rise no more.
LESSON XCVIIL
DESIRE TO BE REMEMBERED.
FORGOTTEN ! How harshly that word grates upon the
ear ! With what icy coldness it falls on the heart !
How we shrink from the thought, that, ere long, all mem-
ory of us will have faded from the minds of men ; that
tiiere will be a time, when, of all who love us now^ or
who ever ivill love us, not one will be left to tell that we
existed; when, of those who may dwell in the places we
now occupy, not one will recognize a vestige of any thing
we ever did, or that we ever lived !
2. To BE FORGOTTEN ! — oh ! fearful thought! It is this
which makes us linger when we say farewell ; it is this
which nerves the heart and strenothens the arm when the
320 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
horrid din of war shuts ont the memory of dear associa-
tions ; and this wrings the life-blood from that heart, and
causes the arm to fall powerless. It is this which bears up
against discouragements those who would mount to Fame's
highest pinnacle, there to inscribe a name which shall live
loiig after they themselves have passed away. A name ! —
what a slight token of i-emembrance for the giant minds of
earth to bequeath ! A name ! when the form, the counte-
nance, shall have a place in the memory of none !
3. We all love to cherish the thouo-ht that we shall not
he forgotten^ that we shall not be dead to others, when the
warm pulsations of our hearts have ceased ; that " dumb
forgetfulness " yf'iW not bind our memories in the chains of
silence. We can all designate some in our immediate
presence, in whose surviving thoughts our love, ourselves,
would gladly dwell. Assured of this, and who would not
•* Leave the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind " ?
But it may not be. When our eyes are stamped with
the seal of death, some few faithful ones will mourn our
loss, some bitter tears be shed over our graves, and, in a
little while, we shall be forgotten.
4. There are those, however, and not a few, who have
won an earthly immortality hy their thoughts and deeds. To
tliese^ though their forms have faded from the eye of Time,
and their monuments been fanned to dust by his wing, — to
these it has never been said, " Thus far shalt thou go, and
no farther." They live, love, and are loved, as when the
earth was gladdened by their actual presence. We have
felt their spirits breathing into and mingling with ours,
when the world looked dark, and all has become bright
again.
TTNION FIFTH READEE. 321
5. With a prophetic tone their voices have rung in our
ears, rousing us from dull torpor and senseless slumber to
high thought and holy purpose. No : they are not dead;
they are not forgotten ! Aspirer after fame, wouldst thou
leave some traces on the shores of Time, over which the
waves of oblivion shall dash with all their fury in vain^ ?
Wouldst thou be lulled to thy last sleep with the sweet
consciousness that thou Avilt not be forgotten' ? If so, *' go
thou and do likewise."
6. A little star shining so soothingly, whispering peace
to the rebellious heart, and hope to the desolate, were the
decree of the Almighty to go forth that its light must be
extinguished, would long afterwards be seen by us, twink-
ling and cheering as ever. So with the great and good of
earth. The light which hovers around their pathway, can
not grow dim, though we consign their bodies to the tomb,
vmtil Time's course is fully run ; and even then it will
shine as brightly as ever, in a holier, a purer land than
this. In that land, also, it is our hope that the severed
ties of nature and of friendship will be reunited. There
we shall see those whom we have loved, and there forgot-^
ten is a forbidden word.
LESSON XCIX.
^ Mil' ton. See note, page 107.
- Klop' stock, Friedricb, a celebrated German poet, was born in Prussian
Saxony, 1724, and died 1803. He devoted himself entirely to litera-
ture. His greatest work was the sacred epic called " The Messiah,"
He made himself respectably known also by philological writings.
^ Old Mortality, a character and the title of a novel by Sir Walter Scott.
The name is said to have been a sobriquet popularly conferred upon
Robert Patterson, a religious itinerant of the later half of the last cen-
21
822 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
tury, the traditions concerning whom are related in the story, and who
is described as a solitary, frequenting country church-yards, and the
graves of the Covenanters, in the south of Scotland, and whose occu-
pation consisted in clearing the moss from tlie gray tombstones, re-
newing with his chisel the half-defaced inscriptions, and repairing the
emblems of death Avith which the monuments were adorned.
* Pla' to, an illustrious Grecian philosopher, who taught the immortality
of the soul and the beauty of goodness, was born at Athens 429 years
before Christ, and died in his 80th year. He was the disciple of Soc-
rates. His system of philosophy is known as the Platonic.
' Ad' di SOX, Joseph, one of the most elegant writers in English literature,
was born in 1672, and died in 1719.
THE DESIRE OF REPUTATION.
REV. ALBERT BARNES.
THE desire of an honored name exists in all. It is an
original principle in every mind, and lives often when
every other generous principle has been obliterated. It is
the wish to be Jcnoivn and respected hy others, : — to extend
the hiowledge of our existence beyond our individual con-
sciousness of being, — to be remembered^ at least, for a lit-
tle while after we are dead. J^ext to the dread of annihi-
lation, we dread the immediate extinction of our names
when we die. We would not have the earth at once made
level over our graves ; we would not have the spot where
we sleep at once forgotten ; we Avould not have the last
traces of our existence at once obliterated from the memo-
ry of the living world.
2. We need not go into an argument to prove that this
desire exists in the human soul. Any one has only to look
into his own heart to find it always there in living power,
and in controlling influence. We need not ask you to cast
your eyes upon the pages of history to see the proofs, that
the desire has found a home in the heart of man. We
need not point you to the distinguished heroes, orators, and
poets of the past or modern times j nor need we attempt
UNION FIFTH READER. . 323
to trace its operations in animating to deeds of noble dar-
ing, or its influence on the beautiful productions of art.
3. Milton^ was warmed by the same generous emotion,
and the same conviction that he would be remembered,
and felt that there dwelt within him the innate power of
rearing a monument which would convey his name to latest
times, when lie uttered this sentiment: — " I began to as-
sent to my friends here at home, and not less to an inward
prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labor
and intense study, (which I take to be my portion in this
life,) joined with the strongest propensity of nature, I
might, perhaps, leave something so written to after times,
as they should not willingly let it die." Klopstock,^ in
one of his best odes, has described the instinctive desire of
future reputation^ and of living in the memory of posteri-
ty, when founded on a virtuous principle.
4. " Sweet are the thrills the silver voice of Fame
Triumphant through the bounding bosom darts 1
And immortality ! how proud an aim !
What noble toil to spur the noblest hearts I
My charm of song to live through future time.
To hear, still spurning death's invidious stroke.
Enraptured choirs rehearse one's name sublime,
E'en from the mansions of the grave invoke :
Within the tender heart e'en then to rear
Thee, Love ! thee. Virtue ! fairest growth of Heaven !
Oh, this, indeed, is worthy men's career ;
This is the toil to noblest spirits given ! "
5. The desire of a grateful remembrance when w^e are
dead, lives in every human bosom. The earth is full of
the memorials which have been erected as the effect of that
desire ; and though thousands of the monuments that had
324 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
been reared by anxious care and toil, by deeds of valor on
the battle-field, or by early efforts at distinction in the fo-
rum, have perished, still we can not traverse a land where
the indications of this deep-rooted desire do not meet us
on every side. The once lofty column, now broken and
decaying ; the marble, from which the name has been ob-
literated by time ; the splendid mausoleum, standing over
remains long since forgotten ; and" the lofty pyramid —
though the name of its builder is no lono;er known — each
one shows how deeply this desire once fixed itself in some
human heart.
6. Every work of art, every temple and statue, every
book on which we carelessly cast the eye as we pass along
the alcoves of a great library, is probably a monument of
this desire to he remembered when life is gone. Every rose
or honeysuckle that we plant over the grave of a friend,
is but a response to the desire not to be forgotten, which
once warmed the cold heart beneath. And who would be
willing to be forgotten ? Who could endure the thought,
that, when he is committed to the earth, no tear would ever
fall on his 2:rave ; no thouo;ht of a friend ever be directed
to his' tomb ; and that the traveler would n^iver be told
who is the sleeper there ?
7. To this universal desire in the bosom of man to be
remembered when he is dead, the living world is not reluc-
tant to respond ; for everywhere it manifests such tokens
of respect as it deems best suited to perpetuate the mem-
ory of the departed. Affection, therefore, goes forth and
plants the rose on the grave ; rears the marble, molded
into breathing forms, over the dust ; like Old Mortality,^
cuts the letters deeper when the storms of time efface
them ; and hands down in verse and song the names of
those who have deserved well of mankind.
UNIOK FIFTH READER. 325
8. " Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The Historic Muse,
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down
To latest times ; and Sculpture, in her turn.
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass.
To guard them, and to immortalize her trust.
But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid,
To those who, posted at the shrine of Truth,
Have fallen in her defense."
9. Why is this passion implanted in the human bosom ?
Why is it so universal ? Why is it seen in so many forms *<*
We answer, — It is one of the proofs of mail's immortali-
ty^ — the strong, instinctive, universal desire to live, and
live forever. It is tliat to which philosophers have ap-
pealed, in the lack of better evidence, to sustain the hope
that man would survive the tomb. It is the argument on
which Plato'* rested to sustain his soul in the darkness
which enveloped him, and which has been put into the
mouth of every school-boy, in the language of Addison'^ : —
10. " Whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality ?
Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of fidling into naught ? Why shrinks the Soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ;
'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter.
And intimates eternity to man."
11. And wliile this desire lingers in the human soul,
as it always will, man can not forget that he is immortal ;
and it will be vain to attempt to satisfy him that he wholly
326 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ceases to be when the body dies. He will not, he can not,
believe it. He would not always sleep. He would not
always be forgotten. He would live again, — live on in
the memory of his fellow-man, as long as the flowers can
be made to bloom, or the marble to perpetuate his name ;
and then still live on when " seas shall waste, and skies in
smoke decay."
■♦-
LESSON C.
VANITY OF EARTHLY FAME.
HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
1. Oh, how weak
Is mortal man ! how trifling ! how confined
His scope of vision ! Pufled with confidence,
His phrase grows big with immortality,
And he, poor insect of a summer's day.
Dreams of eternal honors to his name, —
Of endless glory and perennial bays!
He idly reasons of eternity.
As of the train of ages ; when, alas !
Ten thousand thousand of Ms centuries
Are, in comparison, a httle point
Too trivial for account !
2. Oh, it is strange,
'Tis passing strange, to mark his fallacies !
Behold him proudly view some pompous pile.
Whose high dome swells to emulate the skies.
And smile, and say, " My name shall live with this
Till Time shall be no more ; " while at his feet,
Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust
Of the fallen fabric of the other day
Preaches the solemn lesson !
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 327
He should know
That Time must conquer ; that the loudest blast
That ever filled Renown's obstreperous trump
Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires.
Who lies inhumed in the terrific gloom
Of the gigantic pyramid ? or who
Reared its huge walls ? Oblivion laughs, and says,
" The prey is mine ! They sleep, and never more
Their names shall strike upon the ear of man ! "
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.
What is glory ? What is fame ?
The echo of a long-lost name ;
A breath ; an idle hour's brief talk ;
The shadow of an arrant naught ;
A flower that blossoms for a day,
Dying next morrow ;
A stream that hurries on its way,
Sino-ing of sorrow ;
The last drop of a bootless shower,
Shed on a sear and leafless bower ;
A rose stuck in a dead man's breast, —
This is the Avorld's fame at the best !
What is fame ? and what is glory ?
A dream ; a jester's lying story,
To tickle fools withal, or be
A theme for second infancy ;
A joke scrawled on an epitaph ;
A grin at Death's own ghastly laugh ;
A visioning that tempts the eye,
But mocks the touch — nonentity ;
328 SANDERS' UKION SERIES.
A rainbow, substanceless as bright,
Flittinor forever
o
O'er hill-top to more distant hight,
Nearing us never ;
A bubble blown by fond conceit,
In very sooth itself to cheat ;
The witch-fire of a frenzied brain ;
A fortune that to lose were gain ;
A word of praise, perchance of blame ;
The wreck of a time-bandied name, —
Ay, this is glory ! — this is fame !
LESSON" CT.
^ Co rin' thi an, pertaining to the Corinthian order of architecture, —
characterized by a profusion of ornamentation.
"THIS, TOO, MUST PASS AWAY."
MRS. E. C. HOWARTH.
An old baron gave a grand banquet. In the midst of the festivities, he
requested the seer to write some inscription on the wall in memory of the
occasion. The seer wrote, — "This, too, must pass auxty."
ONCE in a banquet-hall,
'Mid mir
mirth and music, wine and garlands gay,
These words were written on the garnished wall, —
" This, too, must pass away."
And eyes that sparkled when the wine was poured
'Mid song and jest, and merry minstrel lay.
Turned sad and thoughtful from the festive board
To read, 'mid pendent banner, lyre, and sword, —
''T7«8, too^ must pass away.''''
UNION FIFTH READER. 329
And where are they to-night, —
The gay retainers of that festive hall ?
Like blooming rose, like waxen taper's light,
They have departed all.
Long since the banners crumbled into dust,
The proud Corinthian ^ pillars met decay.
The lyre is broken, and the sword is rust ;
The kingly bards who sang of love and trust —
They^ too^ have passed away.
Yet Genius seeks the crown,
And Art builds stately homes for wealth and pride,
And Love beside the household shrine kneels down.
And Dust is deified :
Yet, 'midst our loves, ambitions, pleasures, all.
The spirit struggles ever with the clay :
On every ear a warning voice will fall,
Each eye beholds the writing on the wall, —
'''This, too, must pass awayJ^^
LESSON OIL
GOD, THE TRUE OBJECT OF CONFIDENCE.
GREENWOOD.
¥E receive such repeated intimations of decay in the
world, — decline, change, and loss follow in such rapid
succession, — that we can almost catch the sound of universal
wasting, and hear the work of desolation going on busily
around us. " The mountain falling cometh to naught, and
the rock is removed out of his place. The waters wear
the 'Atones. Thou washest away the thing«^ which grow
330 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES.
out of the dust of the earth, and Thou destroy est the hope
of man.*
2. Conscious of our own instabihty, we look about for
something on which to rest, but we look in vain. The
heavens and the earth had a beginning, and they will have
an end. The face of the world is changing daily and
hourly. All animated things grow old, and die. The
rocks crumble, — the trees fall, — the leaves fade, — the
grass withers. The clouds are flying, and the waters are
flowing away from us.
" 8. The firmest works of man, too, are gradually giving
way. The ivy clings to the moldering tower, — the brier
hangs out from the shattered window, — and the wall-flow-
er springs from the disjointed stones. In the spacious
domes which once held our fathers, the serpent hisses,
and the wild bird screams. The halls which were once
crowded with all that taste, and science, and labor could
procure, — Avhich resounded Avith melody, and Avere lighted
up with beauty, — are buried by their own ruins, — mocked
by their own desolation. The voice of merriment or of
wailing, — the steps of the busy or the idle, — have ceased
in the deserted courts.
4. While we thus walk among the ruins of the past, a
sad feeling of insecurity comes over us ; and that feeling
is by no means diminished when we arrive at home. If
we turn to our friends, we can hardly speak to them, before
they bid us farewell. We see them for a few moments ;
and, in a few moments more, their countenances are
changed, and they are sent away. The ties which bind
us together, are never too close to be parted, or too strong
to be broken. We gain no confidence, then, no feeling of
* Job, 14th chap., 18th and 19th verses.
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. ' 331
security, by turning to our contemporaries and kindred.
We know that the forms that are breathing around us, are
as short-hved and fleeting as those were which have been
dust for centuries.
5. If every thing which comes under our notice has en-
dured for so short a time, and in so short a time will be no
more, we can not say that we receive the least assurance
by thinking on ourselves. When a few more friends have
left, a few more hopes deceived, and a few more changes
mocked us, " we shall be brought to the grave, and shall
remain In the tomb. The clods of the valley shall be
sweet unto us."
6. When we ourselves have gone, even the remembrance
of us will not long remain. A few of the near and dear
will bear our likenesses in their bosoms, till they, too, have
arrived at the end of their journey, and entered the dark
dwellino; of unconsciousness. In the thouo;hts of others, we
shall live only till the last sound of the bell, which informs
them of our departure, has ceased to vibrate In tlieir ears.
7. A stone, perhaps, may tell some wanderer where we
lie, — when we came here, — when we went away ; but
even that will soon refuse to bear us record. Time's
*' effacing fingers " will be busy on its surface, and will, at
length, wear it smooth. The stone itself will sink, or crum-
ble ; and the wanderer of another age will pass, without a
single call upon his sympathy, over our unheeded graves.
8. Is there nothing to counteract the sinking of the
heart, which must be the effect of observations like these'?
Is there no substance among all these shadows'? Can
no support be offered, — can no source of confidence be
named' ? Yes^ ! There Is a Being, to whom we can look
with a perfect conviction of finding that security which
nothing about us can give, — nothing can take away. To
332 ' SANDEES' UNION SEKIES.
this Being we can lift up our souls, and on Him we may
rest them, exclaiming in the language of the monarch of
Israel, —
" Before the mountains were brought forth,
Or ever Tliou hadst formed the earth and the world,
Even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God."
9. " Of old hast Thou laid the foundations of the earth ;
And the heavens are the work of Thj hands.
They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure ;
Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment ;
As a vesture shalt Thou change them, and thej shall
be changed ;
But Thou art the same, and Thj years shall have no
end." *
Here^ then, is a support which will never fail. Here is
a foundation which can never be moved, — the everlastinor
Creator of countless worlds, —
" The high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity."
10. When we have looked on the pleasures of life, and
they have vanished away ; when we have looked on the
works of Nature, and perceived that they were changing ;
on the monuments of Art, and seen that they would not
stand ; on our friends, and they have fled while we were
gazing ; on ourselves, and felt that we were as fleeting as
they, — we can look to the throne of God. Change and
decay have never reached that. The waves of an eternity
have been rushing past it, but it has remained unshaken.
The waves of another eternity are rushing toward it, but
it is fixed, and can never be disturbed.
11. We shall shortly finish our allotted time on earth,
and a world of other days and other men will be entirely
it 90th Ps., 2d verse ; and 102d Ps., 25th, 26th, and 27th verses.
UNION FIFTH READER. 833
ignorant that once we lived. But the same unalterable
Being will still preside over the universe, through all its
changes, and from His remembrance we shall never be
blotted. He is our Father and our God forever. He
takes us from earth that He may lead us to Heaven, —
that He may refine our nature from all its principles of
corruption, — share with us His own immortality, admit us
to His everlasting habitation, and crown us with His eter-
nity.
LESSON CIII.
* Col OS se' um, the amphitheater of Vespasian in Rome, the largest in the
world.
^ O lym'pus, or Olympia, a town in Greece, celebrated for the Olympic
games that took place there once in four years, and continuing five days.
^ Sin' YL, (in Pagan antiquity,) a woman supposed to be endowed with a
spirit of propliecy, and who wrote books of prophecies, in verse, sup-
posed to contain the fate of the Roman Empire.
* Mil' ton. See note, page 107.
^ Shak' speare. See note, page 106.
INSPIRATION OF LIVING GENIUS.
MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.
" AF making many books, there is no end," * exclaims
\J the wise man, foreseeing the accumulation of words
in the coming ages, at the expense of ideas. That indi-
viduals think less, and achieve less, now that books are
multiplied to such an extraordinary degree, must be mani-
fest to the dullest observer. Men expend their lives in
reading what has been said by others, and thus neglect
their own resources. They pore over obsolete ideas ;
they garner the treasury of familiar expression ; and in
tlie meanwhile opportunity escapes, time rolls onward, and
they themselves add nothing to the munificence of thought.
* Eccl., 12th chap., 12th verse.
334 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
2. Were it otlierwise, were books less abundant, did
libraries teem less with the culture of the ages, men would
be compelled to delve into the mine of their own genius^ and
each age would present us with its poets, its heroes, and
philosophers. We should have, not book-worms, but the
inspirations of Uving genius^ — not imitators and plagiarists,
such as abound in our time, but revelations, and utterances
to electrify the nations. We have a host of scholars, and
onlj now and then a man of original experience. We
reproduce the old in diluted forms ; whereas, were we
deprived of these models, we might do something in our
own rio-ht.
3. Our literature is full of artists, but poor in genius.
It is easy to reconstruct — difficult to originate. For ages
the Colosseum ^ has been the great quarry whence mod-
ern Rome has been built, and yet it stands magnificent
and inspiring in its devastation and decay. The age that
conceived the Colosseum, will no more appear. We re-
produce the ancients, — bvit only in poorer forms, and
upon a more limited scale.
4. Once nations poured themselves upon the arena of
Greece to compete at the games of Olympus.^ The crash
of chariot-wheels thundered along the way, where the
racer bent his forces intent iipon the goal, and horsemen
vaulted from back to back, as his flying steeds, four abreast,
filled the air with animation. In our day we revive the
Olympic reminiscence in the lecture-room of the Lyceum,
and the bombast of the stump-orator. The gladiator is the
modern pugilist, and for the charioteer and daring horse-
man is the tent-covered arena of the modern circus.
5. We are loss heroic altogether. We make life a fact,
not an inspiration. What will come of it ? Where will
it end ? Is there no great idea to be revealed, which shall
UNION FIFTH READER. 335
refresh and enlarge our humanity'' ? Assuredly there is.
Let us wait and listen. Poets and artists have too many
aids ; and therefore they copy each other, instead of going*
forth to look into the heart of Nature. The wise man or
woman will write out inspirations, and cast them like the
leaves of the Sibyl. ^ If the world needs them, they will
be gathered ; if not, they should feel no pang, as they
eddy, like dry leaves, at the will of the inconstant blast.
6. There is no absolute necessity that any one should
win fame : there is no fame worth the winning except
that illustrative of the religious faith of the people ; no
ideas are perpetual but those of the religious. Take out
of the world Milton,^ Shakspeare,^ and the Bible, and
chaos would come again ; leave us the Bible, Milton, and
Shakspeare, and we have little need of libraries.
7. Science will take care of itself; facts are perpetual.
Those that are needful to us, will be kept ahve ; and others,
which are incomplete links to the perfect chain, may as
well die. There is no doubt a lazy pleasure in sitting in
one's library, and reading the thoughts which inspired
the hearts of heroes and sages in the past ages ; but the
thought that may be made vital and effective in the pres-
ent, is better, to the true, earnest man or woman.
8. Let the good thing but be said, and it matters not by
whom it is uttered. If the author be truly large and
original, the world will not forget him. Nature is chary
of her gems : she hides the diamond in the deepest caves ;
but once brought forth to the light, its rays are choicely
garnered, and its record kept as persistently as the crown
of a king's head. The harp and the lute may fade away
adown sweet-scented valleys and vine-clad hills ; but the
trumpet awakens the wilderness to action, and lends a
voice to the everlastins; hills.
336 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON CIY.
* John' son, Samuel, the celebrated English lexicographer, was bom at
Licthfield, England, 1 709 ; and died 1 784. He was educated at Oxford,
and became one of the most prominent characters in English literary
history. A large portion of his writings appeared in the " Gentleman's
Magazine," " The Rambler," and " The Idler." His Life by Boswell
contains a curious collection of sayings, that are held to convey a more
favorable impression of his real strength, both in thought and language,
than any thing in the works which he wrote or published.
GENIUS AND ORIGINALITY.
REV. DR. G. W. EATON.
MY philosophy teaches me that what is called genius, is
an extraordinary development of a single faculty , or
set of faculties ; and is in many, perhaps in most cases, an
evidence of disease or distortion in mental constitution ;
and, therefore, something neither to be envied nor desired.
Genius ! — who wants more genius than he possesses in a
mind of immortal and ever-growing capacities ? Let him
stir up his powers, and set them energetically to work. It
is tJiis that marks a man as original and peculiar among his
fellow-men.
2. It is not that he possesses faculties which others have
not, and tendencies which do not belong to common hu-
manity ; but he has waked up Ms immortal energies, and
they live, and intensely act within him ; and his whole
intellectual and moral nature stands out in bold and glow-
ing relief. He may be called original and eccentric, and
" a genius," and be looked upon as something out of thvi
ordinary course of nature ; but all his originality and eccen-
tricity may be owing to the fact that he does his own
thinkincr.
3. He forms his own opinions, and therefore they must
be cast, whatever the material may be, in the pecuhar
UNION FIFTH READER. 337
mold of liis own mind, and partake of all the peculiarities
of that moldc If there was more deep and original think-
ing, there would be a greater number of real geniuses, of
original and eccentric characters ; or rather eccentricity
would be seen to be a natural movement. It is this process
wliicli makes " originals." We all might be original and
peculiar, if we would take the pains to improve to the
utmost the powers oiu' Creator has given us.
4. Trust not, then, to an imaginary phantom to breathe
inspiration into your sluggish spirits, nor wait for the auspi-
cious moment, when some pitying Muse, invoked from a
distant sphere, shall descend and infuse life into your torpid
faculties, and kindle up the " glow of composition." If
you have an exercise in composition to prepare, act upon
the advice of the sage Dr. Johnson,^ — '' Sit down doggedly
to tlie work." I know of no certain way to bring on the
"glow of composition," (which is indeed a most desirable
state,) but by the intense friction of great truths with our
faculties.
5. This will soon kindle up an internal fire that will
send a warmth and glow through the entire system. It is
this friction which causes the strange transitions in the
mind, of which we have spoken. When we first address
ourselves to the examination of a difficult subject, all may
be dark as midnight, and we have no power to do any
thing with it. But by holding it steadily before the mind,
pressing the faculties up to it,- and keeping up the friction,
by and by a sort of electric power is generated, which
emits blazing illuminations, dispelling the darkness, and
elances a lightning energy, splitting into ribbdns the gnarled
and refractory subject.
6. Now the toil is over. Henceforth all is enthusiastic
play. The mind moves with freedom and majesty. " The
15
338 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
hidings of its power" are disclosed. Bright and glorious
thoughts come thronging round, attended by words, their
obedient '' servitors," all ready to robe them in appropriate
attire. But how few ever attain to this state of mental
elevation and power ! And why ? They give over too
soon. The process is discontinued before the result is
reached.
LESSON CY.
HURRYING ON.
1. " Hurrying on, hurrying on ! "
Says a Voice that speaks from the works of God ;
And the rolHng Spheres, as they flame along
O'er the glorious path of the great untrod,
Take up the sound, and the strain prolong ;
Nor cease they from chanting the nightly song,-
" We are harrying on, hurrying on.''^
2. " Hurrying on, hurrying on I "
Says the voice of Time ; and his stealthy feet
Are crossing the threshold, unhid, unseen,
And urging us on at each pulse's beat,
From the past to the future : the pause between
Is the fleetinor now — the feverish dream
Of the life that is hurrying on.
3. " Hurrying on, hurrying on ! "
The busy throng of the city and town,
The peaceful tiller of rural glade.
The warrior thirsting for bloody renown.
The prince and the beggar, however arrayed,
Together approaching the solemn shade,
Are hurrying on^ hurrying on.
UNION FIFTH READER. 339
" Hurrying on, hurrying on ! "
Tlie myriads that walk on this busy stage,
With youth's gay trip, with man's firm tread,
And the trembhng step of hoary age,
In untroubled sleep to lay their head
With the ghostly tribes, the slumbering dead,
Are hurrying on, hurrying on.
LESSON CYI.
THE PEOPLE'S ADVENT.
GERALD MASSEY.
This piece should be read in a bold, spirited manner ; and an excellcnr
effect will be produced by having the last line of each stanza read by ui^
whole class in concert, as indicated.
1. 'rpiS coming up the steep of Time,
_L And this old w^orld is growing brighter :
We may not see its dawn sublime,
Yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter.
We may be sleeping 'neath the ground
When it awakes the world in wonder,
But we have felt it gathering round.
And heard its voice of living thunder, —
(^Wliole classy 'Tis coming ! yes^ 'tis coming!
2. 'Tis coming now, the glorious time
Foretold by seers, and sung in story,
For which, when thinking was a crime.
Souls leaped to Heaven from scaffolds gory !
They passed, nor saw the work they wrought.
Nor the crowned hopes of centuries blossom ;
But the live lightning of their thought,
340 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
And daring deeds, doth pulse earth's bosom, -
( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming !
3. Creeds, Systems, Empires, rot with age;
But the great People's ever youthful ;
And it shall write the Future's page
To our humanity more truthful.
The gnarlish heart hath tender chords
To waken at the name of " Brother : "
The time will come, when scorpion words
We shall not speak to sting each other, —
( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming !
4. Out of the hVht, old Past ! nor flino;
Your dark, cold shadows on us longer !
Aside ! thou effete thino; called Kinoj :
The People's step is quicker, stronger.
There's a divinity within
That makes men great whene'er they will it :
God works with all who dare to win,
And the time cometh to reveal it, —
( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming !
5. Ay, it must come ! The tyrant's throne
Is crumbling, with our hot tears rusted ;
The sword earth's mighty have leaned on
Is cankered, with our hearts' blood crusted.
Room ! for the Men of Mind make way I
Ye robber-rulers, pause no longer ;
Ye can not stop the opening day ;
The world rolls on, the light grows stronger, -
(JWhole class) The People's Advenfjs coming/
UNION FIFTH llEADEE. 341
LESSON CVII.
* Man hat' tans, native Indians who inhabited the Island of Manhattan,
on which the city of New York is now situated.
DISCOVERY OF MANHATTAN.
MARY L. BOOTH.
N the second day of September, 1609, Henry Hudson,
on board a small yacht called " The Half Moon," manned
by a crew of twenty men, came in sight of the Highlands
of Neversink, which he describes as " a pleasant land to
see." Here he remained all night, and, setting sail the
next morning, came to what he represents as " three great
rivers," — the northernmost of which he attempted to en-
ter, but was prevented by the shoal bar before it. This
was probably Rockaway Inlet ; the others, the llaritan,
and the Narrows. Foiled in this attempt, he rounded
Sandy Hook, sending a boat before him to sound the way,
and anchored his vessel in the lower bay. They landed
at Cony Island, and were the first white men that ever set
foot on the soil of the Empire State,
2. Enraptured with the beautiful scenery before him, he
determined to explore this strange, new country, which
was worth more than all the wealth of the Indies. The
shores were covered with gigantic oaks from sixty to sev-
enty feet high, the hills beyond were crowned with grass
and fragrant flowers, strange wild birds were flitting in
the air, and the fish were darting through the sparklino
waters. Friendly Indians, dressed in mantles of feathen
and fine furs, and decorated with copper ornaments, flocked
on board the vessel, bringing corn, tobacco, and vegetablea
for the mysterious strangers. Hudson received them kind-
ly, and gave them axes, knives, shoes, and stockings m
342 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
return. But these articles were all new to them, and they
put them to a new use : they hung the axes and shoes
about their necks for ornaments, and used the stockings
for tobacco-pouches.
3. Hudson remained in the lower bay for a week, send-
ing a boat's crew, in the mean time, to sound the river.
Tliey passed the Narrows, entered the bay, and came in
sight of the grassy hills of Manhattan. Passing through
the Kills, between Staten Island and Bergen Neck, they
proceeded six miles up the river, and discovered Newark
Bay. On tlieir return, the boat was attacked by the na-
tives. An EngHsh sailor, named John Colman, was
struck in the neck by an arrow, and killed ; two others
were sliglitly wounded ; and the rest escaped tQ the ship
with the dead body of their companion, to carry the tid-
ings of the mournful catastrophe.
4. This was the first white man's blood ever shed in tlie
territory ; and it is probable, though not certain, that the
sailors themselves were the first aggressors. Colman was
an old comrade of Hudson : he had been the companion
of his earner voyages, and his death inspired him with dis-
trust and hatred of the natives, whom, before, he had re-
garded with favor. On the following day, the 9th of Se]>
tember, the first white man's grave in these regions was
dug on Sandy Hook ; and the spot was called Colman's
Point, in memory of the departed.
5. On the 11th of September, " The Half Moon " passed
througli the Narrows, and anchored in New-York Bay.
Distrusting the fierce Manhattans,^ the captain remained
but a single day. Canoes, filled with men, women, and
children, flocked around the ship, bringing oysters and
vegetables ; but, though these were j)urchased, not a native
was suffered to come on board. The next day, Hudson
UNION FIFTH READER. 343
made his way up the river wliich now bears his name, and
through which he hoped to find the long-sought passage to
the Indies.* Slowly sailing up the river, and anchoring
at niglit in the friendly harbors so plentifully scattered
along his way, Hudson pursued his course toward the head
of ship-navigation, admiring the ever-changing panorama
of the beautiful river, with its lofty palisades, its broad
bays, its picturesque bends, its romantic highlands, and its
rocky shores covered wath luxuriant forests.
6. Everywhere he was greeted with friendly reception.
Tlie river Indians, more gentle than those of the Island
Manhattan, welcomed the strangers with offerings of the
best the land aiforded, and urged them to remain with
tliem. Fancvinor that the white men were afraid of their
arrows, the Indians broke them in pieces, and threw them
into the fire. Game was killed for their use, hospitalities
were urged upon them, and every attention which a rude
but generous nature could prompt w^as offered to the
strangers. Indeed, this seems in the beginning to have
been the usual conduct of the natives ; and it is probable
that in their future hostilities, in nearly every instance, the
whites were the aggressors.
7. On the 19th of September, Hudson reached the site
of the present city of Albany, which, greatly to his disap-
pointment, he found to be the head of navigation. To be
sure of the fact, he dispatched the mate with a boat's crew
to sound tlie river higher up ; but after proceeding eight
or nine leagues, finding but seven feet of water, they were
forced to return with the unwelcome intelligence. After
* In 1607, a company of English merchants fitted out a ship, and in-
trusted it to the command of Henry Hudson, with instructions to search
for a passage through the Polar seas to China and Japan. In this, however,
he was unsuccessful; and in 1609 he renewed the search in the service of
the Dutch.
344 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
remaining at anchor for several days, during which time
he continued to liold friendly intercourse with the natives,
'Hudson prepared to descend the river.
8. His stay here was marked by a revel, the tradition
of which is still preserved* among the Indian legends, and
the scene of which is laid by some historians upon the
Island of Manhattan. Various legends of a similar im-
port, concerning the introduction of the fatal " fire-water,"
are in existence among the different tribes of Indians :
everywhere the same causes produced the same results,
and the multiplicity of the traditions may be easily
accounted for.
9. On the 23d of September, Hudson commenced to
descend the river. He ascended in eleven days; he de-
scended it in the same time, constantly receiving demon-
strations of friendship from the natives of the neighboring
shores. But unfortunately this harmony was soon destined
to be broken. While anchored at Stony Point, an Indian
was detected pilfering some goods through the cabin win-
dows. The offender was instantly shot by the mate, and
the frightened natives fled in consternation.
10. Nor was this the only rupture of peaceful relations
with the hitherto friendly natives. Following the example
of other discoverers, who were accustomed to carry to
their own homes specimens of the natives of the new coun-
tries which they had visited, Hudson had seized and de-
tained, two Indians on board his ship at Sandy Hook, both
of whom had escaped during his passage up the river, and
were lying in wait for his return, to avenge their captivity,
11. Their narrative had enlisted the sympathies of their
countrymen, and a large body gathered in their canoes at
the head of Manhattan Island, and attempted to board the
vessel. Repulsed in their attempt, they discharged a harm^
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 34 i
less flight of arrows at the yacht, which were returned by
a musket-shot, which killed two of their number. They
scattered in dismay only to gather again, re-enforced by
several hundreds, at Fort Washington, where they again
attacked the vessel as she was floating down the stream.
A few musket-shots soon put them to flight, with the loss
of nine of their warriors.
12. This strange, new weapon of the white men, speak-
ing in tones of thunder, and belching forth fire and smoke,
was more terrible to them than an army of invaders.
They did not return to the attack, and Hudson pursued
his way unmolested to the bay near Hoboken, where he
anchored for the last time, and, lying windbound there for
one day, set sail for Europe on the 4th of October, one
month after his arrival, to carry to his patrons the news of
the discovery of a new country, and the opening of a new
commerce.
LESSON CYIII.
* Phil' IP of Macedon, who was raised to the supremacy over all Greece,
Avas born 383 B.C. Athens and Thebes had reached their highest vigor
when Philip came to the throne. He soon possessed himself of Am-
phipolis, which gave him access to the gold-mines of Mount Pangsens;
which became a source of immense revenue to him, and the reason of
his founding the town of Philippi. He marched into Thessaly at the
head of twenty thousand men. The terror of his name provoked the
" Philippics " of Demosthenes, who endeavored to rouse the people of
Athens to form a general league against him ; but they were cajoled or
bribed by Philip into a shameful peace, and he marched into Greece,
and was acknowledged the chief of the whole Hellenic Avorld. He was
murdered at the instigation of Olyrapias, while engaged at a religious
festival, 336 years B.C.
^ Frank' ltn. See note, page 14.5.
' Gal va' ni Luigi, a distinguished physician and philologist, was born at
Bologna, 1737; and died 1798. His name has become a household
346 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES.
word from liis great discovery of galvanism. The story, as told, is as
follows ; — The physician had been pi'eparing some frog-soup for his
sick wife, and some of these animals were lying stripped of their skins.
An assistant had accidentally touclied the crural nerve of one of the-
animals with the point of a scalpel, in the neighborhood of a conductor
of an electrical machine, when the limbs were immediately thrown into
convulsions. Galvani supposed that the cause of this was, as he called
it, " animal electricity ; " but Volta and others corrected the error, nnc'
showed that it was due to chemical electricity, or Galvanism.
CHOICE EXTRACTS.
I.
PERSONAL RELIGION.
WEBSTER.
POLITICAL eminence and professional fame fade away
and die with all things eartlily. Nothing of charac-
ter is really permanent but virtue and personal worth.
These remain. Whatever of excellence is wrought into
the soul itself, belongs to both worlds. Real goodness
does not attach itself merely to this life ; it points to
another world. Political or professional reputation can
not last forever ; but a conscience void of offense toward
God and man is an inheritance for eternity.
2. Religion, tlierefore, is a necessary and indispensable
clement in any great human character. There is no liv-
ins: witliout it. Relio-ion is the tie that connects man Avith
his Creator, and holds him to His throne. If that tie be
all sundered, all broken, he floats away, a worthless atom
in the universe, its proper attractions all gone, its destiny
thwarted, and its whole future nothing but darkness, deso-
lation, and death. A man with no sense of religious duty
is he Avhom the Scriptures describe, in such terse but ter-
rific lanmiao-e, as livinix *' without God in the world.*'
Such a man is out of his proper being, — out of the circle
UNION FIFTH READER. 347
o^ all his duties, and out of the circle of all his happiness,
and awaj, far,/ar away, from the purposes of his creation.
II.
THE BEAM OF DEVOTION,
GEOKGK P. MORRIS.
1. I NEVER could find a good reason
Why sorrow unbidden should stay,
And all the bright joys of life's season
Be driven unheeded away.
Our cares would wake no more emotion,
Were we to our lot but resigned,
Than pebbles flung into the ocean.
That leave scarce a ripple behind.
2. The world has a spirit of beauty.
Which looks uj^on all for the best,
And, while it discharges its duty,
To Providence leaves all the rest :
That spirit's the beam of devotion
Which lights us through life to its close,
And sets, like the sun in the ocean,
More beautiful far than it rose.
III.
PROGRESS.
Two principles govern the moral and intellectual world.
One is perpetual progress^ the other the necessary limita-
tions to that progress. If the former alone prevailed,
there would be nothing steadfast and durable on earth,
and the whole of social life would be the sport of winds
and waves. If the latter had exclusive sway, or even
if it obtained a mischievous preponderancy, every thing
348 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
would petrify or rot. The best ages of the world are
always those in which the two principles are the most
equally balanced. In such ages, every enlightened man
ought to adopt hoih principles into his whole mind and con-
duct, and with one hand develop what he can^ with the
other restrain and uphold what he ouglit.
IV.
LOVE DUE TO THE CREATOR.
G. GRIFFIN.
1. And ask ye why He claims our love' ?
O, answer, all ye winds of even !
O, answer, all ye lights above.
That watch in yonder darkening heaven !
Thou Earth, in vernal radiance gay
As when His angels first arrayed thee,
And thou, O deep-tongued Ocean, say
Why man should love the Mind that made thee t
2. There's not a flower that decks the vale,
, There's not a beam that lio;hts the mountain.
There's not a shrub that scents the gale,
There's not a wind that stirs the fountain,
There's not a hue that paints the rose,
There's not a leaf around us lying,
But in its use or beauty show^s
True love to us, and love undying.
V.
INFLUENCE OF GOLD.
ADDISON.
A MAN who is furnished with arguments from the mint,
will convince his antagonist much sooner than one who
draws them from reason and philosophy. Gold is a won*
UNION FIFTH READER. 849
derful clearer of the understanding. It dissipates every
doubt and scruple in an instant ; accommodates itself to
the meanest capacities ; silences the loud and clamorous,
and brings over the most obstinate and inflexible. Philip
of Macedon ' was a man of most invincible reason in this
way. He refuted by it all the wisdom of Athens, con-
founded their statesmen, struck their orators dumb, and,
at length, argued them out of all their liberties.
VI.
INGRATITUDE.
SHAKSPEARE.
1. Blow, blow, thou winter Avind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude :
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude,
2. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot :
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
VII.
THE BIBLE.
AVAYLAND.
That the truths of the Bible have the power of awa-
kening an intense moral feeling in man, under every
variety of character, learned or ignorant, civilized or sav-
age, — that they make bad men good, and send a pulse of
350 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
healthful feeling through all the domestic, civil, and social
relations, — that they teach men to love right, to hate
wrong, and to seek each other's welfare, as the children of
one common Parent, — that they control the baleful pas-
sions of the human heart, and thus make men })roficient
in the science of self-government, — and, finally, that they
teach him to aspire after a conformity to a Being of infinite
holiness, and fill him with hopes infinitely more purifying,
more exalted, more suited to his nature, than any other
which this world has ever known, — are facts as incontro-
vertible as the laws of philosophy, or the demonstrations
of mathematics.
VIIL
THE MOMENTS.
J. L. KGGLESTON.
1. The moments are little and unseen things;
Liglit forms have they, and unseen wings ;
They glide o'er our heads with the morning's beam,
And slip from our grasp with the day's last gleam ;
They tick in our ears with the staid old clock ;
Tiiey stand at our hearts, and there warningly knock;
They bid us not loiter, if Fame we would win ;
They knock, and entreat us to gather them in.
2. O, list to the moments ! though little they seem,
They are bearing your bark on a swift, silent stream;
And onward, still onward^ you glide from the shore.
To that vast, boundless ocean where time is no more.
Take heed to the moments ; for with them they bear
Of gems the most precious, and diamonds rare.
Take care of the moments ; for life's but a span ;
Then carefully hoard them, vain, dreaming man I
UNION FIFTH READER. 351
IX.
THE WAR-HORSE.
BOOK OK JOB. *
Hast tljou given the horse strength ? hast thou clothed
his neck with thunder ?
Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory
of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ;
he croeth en to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turn-
eth he back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and
the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage;
neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.
He saith among the trumpets, — ''Ha, ha!" and he
smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains,
and the shouting.
X.
SECLUSION.
Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ?
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
The pomp of groves, and 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, —
Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ?
332 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
XL
THE POWER OF LITTLE THINGS.
SMILES.
1. When Franklin^ made his discovery of the identity
of Hghtning and electricity, it was sneered at, and people
asked, — " Of what use is it?" To which his apt reply
was, — *' What is the use of a child ? It may become a
man ! " When Galvani^ discovered that a froo^'s Icir
twitched when placed in contact with different metals, it
could scarcely have been imagined that so apparently in-
significant a fact could have led to important results. Yet
therein lay the germ of the Electric Telegraph, which
binds the intelligence of continents together, and probably,
before many years elapse, will " put a girdle around the
globe." So, too, little bits of stone and fossil, dug out of
the earth, intelligently interpreted, have issued in the sci-
ence of geology, and the practical operations of mining, in
which large capitals are invested, and vast numbers of per-
sons profitably employed.
2. The gigantic machinery employed in pumping our
mines, working our mills and manufactories, and driving
our steam-ships and locomotives, in like manner, depends
for its supply of power upon so slight an agency as ])arti-
cles of water expanded by heat. The steum Avliich we
see issuing from the common tea-kettle, when pent up
within an ingeniously- contrived mechanism, displays a
force equal to that of millions of horses, and contains
a power to rebuke the waves, and to set even the hurri-
cane at defiance. Nay, it is the same power at work
within the bowels of the earth, which has been the cause
of many of those semi-miraculous catastrophes — volcanoes
and earthquakes — that have played so mighty a part in
the history of the globe.
UNION FIFTH READER. 353
XII.
INFLUENCE.
MRS. S. T. BOLTON,
The smallest bark on Life's tumultuous ocean
Will leave a track behind for evermore ;
The lightest wave of hifluence, set in motion,
E^itencls and widens to the eternal shore.
We should be wary, then, who go before
A myriad yet to be, and we should take
Our bearing carefully, wKere breakers roar.
And fearful tempests gather : one mistake
May wreck unnumbered barks that follow in our wake.
LESSON CIX.
- Poi/ Y phe'mus, a fabulous monster, of g%antic size; one of the Cyclops;
who had but one eye, and that in the middle of the forehead. The
allusion in the text is to his efforts at revenge, after having been blinded
by Ulysses.
* SrHiNX, a monster usually represented as having the body of a lion, with
a human countenance.
THE SEA.
FROM THE FRENCH OF MICrfELET.
11HAT immense mass of water which we call the sea,
. dark and inscrutable in its great depths, ever and
always impresses the human mind with a vague and re-
sistless awe. With what a soothing, hallowed, and hallow-
ing melancholy do we, evening after evening, behold the
sun, that great world's joy, that brilliant, life-quickening,
and Hfe-giving sun of ah that live, fade, sink, die, — though
so surely to rise and live again ! All ! as that glorious
sun departs, how tenderly do Ave think of the human loves
23
364 SANDERS' UNION SEEIES.
that have died from us, — of the liour when we, also,
shall thus depart from human ken, lost, for the time, to
this world, to shine more gloriously in that other world,
now dark, distant, unknown, but certain !
2. Descend to even a slight depth in the sea, and the
beauty and brilliancy of the upper light are lost. You
enter into a persistent twilight, and misty, half-lurid haze;
a little lower, and even that sinister and hideous twilight is
lost, and all around you is night, showing nothing, but
suggesting every thing that darkness can suggest. Above,
'below, all around, darkness, utter darkness, save when,
from time to time, the swift and gracefully terrible motion
of some passing monster of the deep makes " darkness
visible " for a brief moment; and then that passing gleam
leaves you in darkness more dense, more utter, more terri-
ble, than ever.
3. The waters of the sea afford no encouragement by
their transparency. Opaque, heavy, mighty, merciless,
the sea is a liquid Polyphemus,^ a blind giant that cares
not, reasons not, feels not, but hits a terribly hard blow.
Trust yourself upon that vast and ever-heaving bosom ^
bold swimmer, and marvelously will you be upheld ; the
mighty thing that upholds you, dominates you too ; you
are a mere weak child, upheld indeed, for the instant, by
a giant hand. In another moment, that giant hand may
smite you with a giant's fatal force.
4. Childish as we may regard those terrors, they really
are much the same as the emotions which we may any
day see evinced by an inland novice, who, for the first time,
looks upon the sea. And not merely man, but all animals,
experience the same surprise, the same shock, when sud-
denlv brouorht face to face with the mio;htv water-world.
Even at ebb-tide, when the water so gently and so lovingly
UNION FIFTH READEE. 355
caresses, as it leaves, that shore to which it shall so boister-
ously return, your liorse quite evidently likes it not: he
shudders, balks, snorts, and very often bolts from it at the
very top of his speed. Your dog recoils, howls, and never
concludes a real peace with the element which to him seems
positively hostile.
5. Long before we are face to face with the sea, we can
hear and imagine that grand and terrible entity. At first,
we hear only a dull, uniform, and distant moaning, which
grows louder and louder still, until its majestic roar silences,
or covers, all minor sounds. Very soon we perceive that
that roar is not monotonous, but has its alternating notes,
' — its full, rich, mellow tenor, and its round, deep, majestic
bass. The pendulum of the clock oscillates less regularly
than that alternating moan and roar of the Ocean in her
grand unrest. In " what those wild waves are saying,"
we feel, or fancv we f^el, the thrilling intonations of life.
6. And how many other voices hath the mighty Sea, I
know not, and will not anticipate. I will not speak of
those terrible concerts in which, haply, ere long, she will
take the principal part ; ( f her duets with the rocks ; of
the basses, those muttered thunders which she utters in
the" deep caverns of the rocky shore ; or those strange, wild,
weird, shrieking tones, in which we seem to recognize the
melancholy cry of ''-Help! spare! save I '^ of some fear-
fully imperiled humanity. No : let us, for the present,
contemplate her in her calmer moods, when she is strong,
indeed, but not violent.
7. We need not be at all surprised if childhood and
ignorance are astounded when they first find themselves
face to face with that vast and mysterious sphinx"^ of the
great Master's sculpture, the ocean. Why, in fact, should
we be astonished by their gaze of mingled awe, admiration,
356 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
and bewilderment, when toe ourselves, despite our early
culture and life-long experience, see so much in the great
riddle of that A^ast sphinx, which we can not even hope to
explain ?
8. What is the real extent of the ocean ? That it is
greater than that of the earth, is about as much as, con-
scientiously, we can at all positively affirm. On the entire
surface of the globe, water is the generality^ land the excep-
iion. But what is tlieir relative proportion ? That water
covers four-fifths of the globe is probable ; yet it is difficult,
not to say impossible, to answer the question precisely.
9. The real depth of the sea is still less known to us than
its extent. We are only at the mere commencement of
our early, few, and imperfect soundings. That those
mighty depths contain a great and diversified world of
life, love, war, and reproduction of all sorts and sizes, Ave
may with confidence affirm ; but we have only and barely
touched vipon the threshold of that world. If we need the
ocean, the ocean in no Avise needs us. Nature, fresh from
the hand of Deity, scorns the too prying gaze, and the too
shalloAV judgment of finite but presumptuous man.
10. Shifting and capricious as the ocean appears, it suf-
fers, in reality, no change ; on the contrary, it is a perfect
model of regularity. The really constantly changing crea-
ture is man ! Fragile and fleeting as man is, he has, in-
deed, good reason for reflection and humility, when he
iinds himself in presence of the great unchanging and
unchangeable poAvers of Nature, Avhich are ever just, grand,
and glorious, as his hope, his belief, and certainty of a
spiritual immortality. Despite that delightful hope, that
confident belief, that sustaining certainty, man yet is neces-
sarily and terribly saddened by the strange suddenness Avith
which he hourly sees the thread of his life forever broken.
tJNION FIFTH EEADER. . 357
11. Wlienever we approach the Sea, she seems to mur-
mur from her Jark, inscrutable depths, — unchangeable as
His will who made it, — "Mortal, to-morrow you shall
pass away ; bnt I, /am, and ever shall be, unchanged, un-
changeable, mighty, and mysterious ! The earth will not
only receive your bones, but will soon convert them into
kindred earth ; but /, ever and always, shall remain, the
same majestic entity, — the great perfectly-balanced Life,
daily harmonizing myself with the harmonious and majes-
tic life of the bright worlds that shine above ami around
you!"
12. Look upon the Ocean where and when you may,
you everywhere and always find her the same grand and
terrible teacher of that hardest of all the lessons man has
to learn, man's insignificance ! Take your stand upon
some bold headland, from which, with earnest and well-
trained eye, you can sweep the entire horizon, or wander,
with shortened ken, on the sandy desert, — go whither-
soever you will, where old Ocean shall lash the shore, and
everywhere and always you shall find her the same, —
MIGHTY AND TERRIBLE !
LESSON ex.
A WILD NIGHT AT SEA.
CIIAULES DICKENS.
0^, on^ ON, over the countless miles of angry space, roll
the long heaving billows. Mountains and caves arc
here, and yet are not ; for what is now the one is now
the other ; then all is but a boiling heap of rushing water.
358 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
Pursuit, and flight, and mad return of wave on wave, and
savage struggling, ending in a spouting-up of foam that
whitens the black night ; incessant change of place, and
form, and Ime ; constancy in nothing but eternal strife :
on, on^ ON they roll, and darker' grows the night, and
louder howl the winds, and more clamorous and fierce
become the million voices in the sea ; when the wild cry
goes forth upon the storm, "A Ship ! "
2. Onward she comes, in gallant combat with the ele-
ments, her tall masts trembling, and her timbers starting
on the strain : omoard she comes, now high upon the curl-
ing billows, now low down in the hollows of the sea, as
hiding for the moment from its fury; and every storm-
voice in the air and water cries more loudly yet, "A
Ship ! " Still she comes strjving on ; and, at her boldness
and the spreading cry, the angry waves rise up above each
other's hoary heads to look ; and round about the vessel,
far as the mariners on her decks can pierce into the
gloom, they press upon her, forcing each other down, and
starting up, and rushing forward from afar, in dreadful
curiosity.
3. High over her they break, and round her surge and
roar, and, giving place to others, meaningly depart, and
dash themselves to fragments, in their baffled anorer: still
she comes onward bravely. And though the eager multi-
tude crowd thick and fast upon her all the night, and dawn
of day dissevers the untiring train yet bearing down upon
the ship in an eternity of troubled water, onward she
comes, with dim lights burning in her hull, and people
there, asleep, as if no deadly element were peering in at
every seam and chink, and no drowned seaman's grave,
with but a plank. to cover it, were yawning in the unfath-
omable depths below.
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 359
LESSON CXI.
THE SAILOR'S EARLY HOME.
EEV% S. D. PHELPS.
AWAY, away, o'er the dashing spray,
My bark speeds light and free ;
And the piping gale, through the straining sail,
Whistles loud in its merry glee ;
And the stars at night, with luster bright,
Shine out o'er the vast expanse ;
And the moon from her throne on high 1ooJj:s down
On the restless billows' dance.
Tliere's a charm in the eye when the waves leap
high.
And a music in their roar ;
And the stars, as they shine in their spheres divine,
A joy on the spirits pour.
But the sea in its might, and the stars with their
light.
That glance on the crested foam,
Can not make me gay ; for my thoughts are away
In my childhood's early home.
And dreams come fast of the blissful past,
Ere my heart had felt or known
The ills of life, and the cares and strife
That oppress and weigh it down ;
Or experience, bought by suffering, taught
The lesson sad and drear.
That each sparkling joy finds its sad alloy,
And hope is chilled by fear.
360' SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
4. In a quiet nook, by a gentle brook,
Stands that home to memory dear ;
And the purling stream, as it glides in the beam
Of the sun, shines bright and clear.
I am there again with a happy train, —
The same who in other years
Held their festive play with spirits gay,
And eyes undimmed by tears.
5. Those years as they passed have shadows east
On them^ as they have on me,
And none remain who swelled the train
Of joy 'neath the household tree ;
And I weep as the thought with sadness fraught
Settles dark on my troubled brain.
That the bliss I proved and the friends I loved
Shall never be mine again.
G. To the church-yard nigh, where the wild winds sigh,
With a low and mournful tone.
And the peaceful rest of earth's tranquil breast,
The cherished ones are gone.
There, clustering round, in that hallowed ground,
Affection's tablets stand ;
And the last stone reared on that spot endeared
Was raised by my trembling hand.
7. Away, far away, o'er the dashing spray,
My bark bears me fast and free ;
And my destiny lies under other skies
Than those so beloved by me.
And downward apace o'er my storm-beaten face,
Tears fall like the summer rain,
As my thoughts wander back from my ocean track
To the home I shall ne'er see a^ain.
UNION FIFTH READER. 361
LESSON CXIL
THE FIREMAN.
R. T. CONRAD,
1. rpHE City slumbers ! 0) O'er its mighty walls
X Night's dusky mantle, soft and silent, falls ;
Sleep o'er the world slow waves its wand of lead,
And welcome torpors wrap each sinking head.
Stilled is the stir of labor and of life ;
Hushed is the hum, and tranquillized the strife.
Man is at rest, with all his hopes and fears ;
The young forget their sports, the old their cares :
The grave or gay, all those who joy or weep,
Now rest unconscious on the arm of sleep.
2. Sweet is the pillowed rest of Beauty now,
And slumber smiles upon her tranquil brow ;
Her bright dreams lead her to the moonlit tide,
Her heart's own partner wandering by her side.
(j9.) 'Tis summer's eve : the soft gales scarcely rouse
The low-voiced ripple and the rustling boughs ;
And, faint and far, some minstrel's melting tone
Breathes to her heart a music like its own.
3. But hark ! ('') O horror ! what a crash is there I
What shriek is that which fills the midnight air ?
Qff') "'TIS fire! 'tis fire! She wakes to dream no morel
The hot blast rushes throuo-h the blazino; door !
The dun smoke eddies round ; and, hark ! that cry !
" Help! HELP ! — Will no one aid ? / die ! I die ! *'
(=) She seeks the casement : shuddering at its hight,
She turns ao-ain ; the fierce flames mock her flio-ht :
16
362 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Along the crackling stairs they fiercely play,
And roar, exulting, as they seize their prey.
" Help ! HELP ! — Will no one come ? " She can
no more.
But, pale and breathless, sinks upon the floor.
4. Will no one save thee' ? Yes^ ; there yet is 07ie
Remains to save, when hope itself is gone ;
When all have fled, when all but he would fly.
The Fireman comes, to rescue or to die !
He mounts the stair — it wavers 'neath his tread ;
He seeks the room — flames flashing round his head;
He bursts the door ; he lifts her prostrate frame.
And turns ao-ain to brave the rao-ino; flame.
6. The Fire-blast smites him with his stifling breath ;
The fallino; timbers menace him with death ;
The sinking floors his hurried step betray,
And ruin crashes round his desperate way.
Hot smoke obscures — ten thousand cinders rise —
Yet still he staggers forward with his prize.
He leaps from burning stair to stair. On! on !
(< ) Courage! One effort more, and all is won !
The stair is passed — the blazing hall is braved !
Still on ! yet on ! Once more ! Thank Heaven^
she's saved !
6. The hardy seaman pants the storm to brave,
For beckoning Fortune wooes him to the wave ;
The soldier battles 'neath his smoky shroud.
For Glory's bow is painted on the cloud ;
The fireman also dares each shape of death.
But not for Fortune's gold nor Glory's wreath.
UNION FIFTH READER. 363
No selfish throbs within their breasts are known ;
No hope of praise or profit cheers them on :
They ask no meed, no fame ; and only seek
To shield the suffering and protect the weak.
7. For this the howling midnight storm they avoo ;
For this the raging flames rush fearless through ;
Mount the frail rafter— ^thrid the smoky hall —
Or toil, unshrinking, 'neath the tottering wall :
Nobler than they who, with fraternal blood.
Dye the dread field or tinge the fearful flood, —
O'er their firm ranks no crimson banners wave ;
They dare — they suffer — not to slay, hut save!
LESSON CXIII.
• Sa mar' I TAX and Le' vite. For an account of, see the 10th chapter of
Luke, from the 30th to the 37th verse.
' Syb' A RITE, an inhabitant of Syb'aris, an ancient city of Italy, noted for
the effeminacy and vohiptuousness of its inhabitants. A person de-
voted to luxury and pleasure.
BENEFITS OF AGRICULTURE.
D. S. DICKINSON.
"^TTE have the high authority of history, sacred and pro-
VV fane, for declaring that agriculture is a dignified and
time-honored calling, — ordained and favored of Heaven,
and sanctioned by experience ; and we are invited to its
jnirsuit by the rewards of the past and the present, and
the rich promises of the future. While the fierce spirit of
war, with its embattled legions, has, in its proud trnmiphs,
"" whelmed nations in blood, and wrapped cities in fire,"
364 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and filled the land with lamentation and mourning, it has
not brought peace or happiness to a single hearth, dried
the tears of the widows or hushed the cries of the orphans
it has made, bound up or soothed one crushed or broken
spirit, nor hightened the joys of domestic or social life in
a sincfle bosom.
2. But how many dark recesses of the earth has agricult-
ure illumined with its blessings ! How many firesides has
it lighted up with radiant gladness ! How many hearts
has it made buoyant with domestic hope ! How often, like
the Good Samaritan,^ has it alleviated want and misery,
while the priest and the Levite of power have passed by on
the other side ! How many family altars, and gathering-
places of aflTection, has it erected ! How many desolate
homes has it cheered by its consolations ! How have its
peaceful and gentle influences filled the land with plente-
ousness and riches, and made it vocal with praise and
thanksgiving !
3. It has pleased the benevolent Author of our existence
to set in boundless profusion before us the necessary ele-
ments for a high state of cultivation and enjoyment.
Blessings cluster around us like fruits of the land of prom-
ise ; and Science unfolds her treasures, and invites us to
partake, literally without money and without price. The
propensities of our nature, as well as the philosophy of our
being, serve to remind us that man was formed for care
and labor, the acquisition and enjoyment of property, for
society and government, to wrestle with the elements
around him ; and that, by an active exercise of his powers
and faculties alone, can he answer the ends of his creation,
or exhibit his exalted attributes.
4. His daily wants, in all conditions of life, prompt him
to exertion ; and the spirit of acquisition, so deeply im-
TIN ION FIFTH READER. 365
planted in the human breast, — that " ruHng passion strong
in death," so universally difFused through the whole family
of man, — is the parent of that laudable enterprise which
has caused the wilderness to bud and blossom like the rose,
planted domestic enjoyments in the lair of the beast of
prey, and transformed the earth from an uncultivated wild
into one vast store-house of subsistence and enjoyment.
5. What can be more acceptable to the patriot or the
philanthropist than to behold the great mass of mankind
raised above the degrading influences of tyranny and indo-
lence to the rational enjoyment of the bounties of their
Creator ; to see, in the productions of man's magic powers,
the cultivated country, the fragrant meadow, the waving
harvest, the smiling garden, and the tasteful dwelling, and
himself, chastened by the precepts of religion, and elevated
by the refinements of science, partaking of the fruits of
his own industry, with proud consciousness that he eats not
the bread of idleness or fraud ; that his gains are not met
with the tears of misfortune, nor wrung from his fellow by
the devices of avarice or extortion ; his joys hightened, his
sorrows alleviated, and his heart rectified by the cheering
voice and heaven-born influences of woman ?
6. Well may he sit down under his own vine and fig-
tree without fear of molestation, and his nightly repose be
more quiet than that of the stately monarch of the East
upon his down of cygnets, or the voluptuous Sybarite- upon
his bed of roses. And while he and all his dwellings of
care and toil are borne onward with the circling spheres,
and the spangled heavens around him, in their infinite
depths, invite his thoughts to the contemplation of the
Creator's handiwork ; still, in all the worlds of philosophy
and intellect, he must he a worker. He is nothing, can be
nothing, can achieve nothing, without labor.
366 SANDEKS* tJNION SERIES.
LESSOK CXIY.
' A pol' lo. See note, page 56.
*La oc'o on, a priest of Apollo, who, as Yirgil describes, was, with his
two sons, crushed in the folds of two enormous serpents, on account
of an affront offered to Minerva.
THE AVORK OF ELOQUENCE.
ORVILLE DEWEY.
niHE LABORS requisite to form the public speaker are by
JL 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
thouo-ht, the brief visitations of a fortunate hour or evenino^,
the flashings of intuition, or the gleamings of fancy. Gen-
ius is often compared to lightning from the cloud, or the
sudden bursting out of a secret fountain ; and eloquence
is regarded as if it were a kind of inspiration.
2. 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. The mistake lies, in confounding, with the
mere arrang-ement of thoughts, or the manual labor of
putting them on paper, the long previous jfreparation 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.
3. To give the noblest thoughts the noblest expression ;
to stand up in the pure light of reason, or to create a new
atmosphere X as it were, for intellectual vision ; to put on
UNION FIFTH IlEADEK. 367
nil die glories of imagination as a garment ; to penetrate
the soul, and to make men feel as if they were themselves
new creatures, to make them conscious of new powers and
a new being ; to exercise, in the loftiest measure, the only
glorious and godlike sway, — that over willing minds ; to
fill the ear, the eye, the inmost soul, with sounds, and
images, and holy visions of beauty and grandeur ; to make
truth and justice, to make wisdom and virtue and religion,
more lovely and majestic tilings than men had ever thought
them before ; to delight as well as to convince ; to chann,
to fascinate, to win, to arouse, to calm, to terrify, to over-
whelm, — this is the work of eloquence; and it is a glorious
work.
4. The great object of all the liberal arts is to exhibit
the mind ; to exhibit character, thought, feeling, in their
various aspects. In this consists all , their power and sub-
limity. For this, the painter spreads upon the dull canvas
the breathing forms of life ; the sculptor causes the marble
to speak ; the architect models the fair and majestic stinict-
ure, with sublimity enthroned in its dome, with beauty
shaped in its columns, and glory written upon its walls ;
and the poet builds his lofty rhyme ; and the eloquent in
music, orders his movement and combination of sweet
sounds. But, of this mind, the human fi-ame is the ap-
pointed instrument. It was designed for this end. For it
could have answered all the purposes of physical existence,
without any of its present grace and beauty. It was made
with no more obvious intent than to be the expression of
mind, the organ of the soul, the vehicle of thought.
5. And when all its powers are put in requisition for
this purpose, — the voice, with all its thrilling tones ; the
eye, " through which, as a window, the soul darts forth its
light ; " the lips, on wliich " grace is poured ; " the whole
868 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
glowing countenance, the whole breathing frame, which, in i
their ordinary forms, can express more than the majesty of
an Apollo,^ more than the agony of a Laocoon ; ^ when
every motion speaks, every hneament is more than the
written line of genius, every muscle swells with the inspira-
tion of high thoughts, every nerve is swayed to the mov-
ings of some mighty theme, — what instrument of music,
what glories of the canvas, can equal it ?
6. Elo(|uence is the combination of all arts^ and it excels
them all in their separate powers. Nor is it confined to
the mere gratification of taste. Tlic great and ultimate
object of social existence is for man to act on man ; and
eloquence is the grandest medium of this action. It is not
only the highest perfection of a human being, (for " the
orator must be a good man^'') but it is that perfection in
act. It is sublimity, beauty, genius, power, in their most
glorious exercise.
LESSON CXV.
THE VOICE AND THE PEN.
D. F. MCCARTHY.
1. /^H ! the orator's Voice is a mighty power
\J As it echoes from shore to shore ;
And the fearless Pen has more sway o'er men
Than the murderous cannon's roar.
What bursts the chain far o'er the main.
And brightens the captive's den ?
'Tis the fearless Voice and the Pen of power,-
(/.) Hurrah for the Voice and Pen I
UNION FIFTH READER. 369
The tyrant knaves who deny our rights,
And the cowards who blanch with fear,
Exclaim with glee, " No arms have ye,
Nor cannon, nor sword, nor spear!
Your hills are ours ; with our forts and towers
We are master* of mount and glen."
Tyrants, beware ! for the arms we bear
Are the Voice and the fearless Pen.
Though your horsemen stand with their bridles in
hand,
And your sentinels walk around.
Though your matches flare in the midnight air,
And your brazen trumpets sound, —
Oh ! the orator's tongue shall be heard among
These listenino; Avarrior men ;
And they'll quickly say, " Why should we slay
Our friends of the Voice and Pen ? "
4. When the Lord created the earth and sea,
The stars and the glorious sun.
The Godhead spoke^ and the universe woke,
And the mighty work was done !
Let a word be flung from the orator's tongue.
Or a drop from the fearless Pen,
And the chains accursed asunder burst,
That fettered the minds of men !
5. Oh ! these are the swords with which we fight^,
The arms in which we trust ;
Which no tyrant hand will dare to brand.
Which time can not dim or rust 1
24
370 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
When these we bore, we triumphed before, —
With these we'll triumph again ;
And the world will say, " No power can stay
The Voice and the fearless Pen ! "
'B
LESSON CXYI.
THE BURIAL OF MOSES.
ANON.
Y Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave ;
And no man dug that sepulcher,
And no man saw it e'er ;
For the " Sons of God " upturned the sod.
And laid the dead man there.
2. That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth ;
But no man heard the tramping,
Or saw the train go forth.
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes when the night is done.
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek
Grows into the blazing sun ;
8. Noiselessly as the Spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves,
And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 371
So, without sound of music,
Or voice of them that wept.
Silently down from the mountain's crown
The great procession swept.
Perchance the bald old eagle,
On gray Beth-peor's hight,
Out of his rocky aerie,
Looked on the wondrous sight ;
Perchance the hon stalking
Still shuns that hallowed spot ;
For boast and bird have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not.
But when the warrior dieth,
His comrades in the war,
With arms reversed, and muffled drum,
Follow the funeral-car :'
They show the banners taken,
They tell the battles won,
And after him lead his masterless steed,
While peals the minute-gun.
Amid the noblest of the land
Men lay the sage to rest,
And give the bard an honored place,
With costly marble dressed,
In the great minster transept.
Where lights like glories fall ;
And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings
Along the emblazoned wall.
372 SANDERS' UNION SEKlEa
7. This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword,
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word ;
And never earth's philosopher
Traced with his golden pen,
On the deathless page, truths half as
As he wrote down for men.
8. And had he not high honor ? —
The hill-side for his pall ;
To lie in state while angels wait,
With stars for tapers tall ;
And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes,
Over his bier to wave ;
And God's own hand, in that lonely land,
To lay him in the gi'ave.
9. O lonely tomb in Moab's land I
O dark Beth-peor hill !
Speak to these curious hearts of ours,
And teach them to be still.
God hath His mysteries of grace,
Ways that we can not tell ;
And hides them deep, like the secret sleep
Of him He loved so well.
LESSON CXVIL
' Di' VE9 is a Latin word, meaning rich. It is used as a name, and applied
to the rich man referred to in the 1 6th chapter of Luke.
" Tyhe, one of the most celebrated cities of antiquity, was, for a long time,
considered the emporium of commerce. It was in its most flourishing
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 373
state about 500 years before Christ. It was situated on an island near
the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, whicli was joined by Alex-
aader to the main land by a mole, or mound, by means of which he
took the city after a siege of seven months. It was surrounded by a '
wall 150 feet high, and of proportionate width. Its palaces are now
supplanted by miserable hovels, though relics of its ancient splendor
are everywhere still seen, and the poor fisherman now inhabits thoso
cellars where were once stored the treasures of the world.
* E' DOM, or I DU me' a, is a country including the south of Palestine.
* Mu Ez'ziN, in Mohammedan countries, is the public crier who announces
the hours of prayer from the minaret. Five prayers are repeated daily.
' Kle' ber was a French general, distinguished not less for his humanity
and integrity than for his courage, activity, and coolness.
* Mu rat' (Mil ra') was a French general, distinguished more for his daring
courage and impetuosity than for his sagacity, and strength of mind.
MOUNT TABOR.
J. T. HEADLEY.
WHAT strange contrasts this earth of ours presents !
Noonday and midnight are not more opposite than
the scenes that are constantly passing before our eyes.
Truth and falsehood walk side by side through our streets,
and vice and virtue meet and pass every hour of the day.
The hut of the starving stands in the shadow of the palace
of the wealthy, and the carriage of Dives ^ every day
throws the dust of its glittering wheels over the tattered
garments of Lazarus.
2. Health and sickness lie down in the same apartment;
joy and grief look out of the same window ; and hope and
despair dwell under the same roof. The cry of the infant,
and the groan of the dying, rise together from the same
dwelling ; the funeral procession treads close on the heels
of the bridal party; and the tones of the lute and viol
have scarcely died away, before the requiem for the dead
comes swelling after. Oh ! the beautiful and deformed,
the pure and corrupt, joy and sorrow, ecstasies and ago-
374 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
nies, life and death, are strangely blended on this our
restless planet.
3. What different events ha\^e transpired on the same
spot! Where the smoke of the Indian's wigwam arose,
and the stealthy tread of the wolf and panther was heard
over the autumn leaves at twilight, the population of New
York now surges along. Where once Tyre,'- the queen
of the sea, stood, fishermen are spreading their nets on the
desolate rocks, and the bright waves are rolling over its
marble columns. In the empty apartments of Edom,^ the
fox makes his den ; and the dust of the desert is sifting over
the forsaken ruins of Palmyra.
4. The owl hoots in the ancient halls of kings, and the
wind of the summer night makes sad music through the
rents of the once-gorgeous palaces. The Arab spurs his
steed along the streets of ancient Jerusalem, or scornfully
stands and curls his lip at the pilgrim pressing wearily to
the sepulcher of the Savior. The muezzin's* voice rings
over the. bones of the prophets, and the desert wind heaps
the dust above the foundations of the seven churches of
Asia. Oh, how good and evil, light and darkness, chase
each other over the world !
5. Forty-seven years ago, a form was seen standing on
Mount Tabor, with which the world has since become
familiar. It was a bright spring morning ; and, as he sat
on his steed in the clear sunlight, his eye rested on a scene
in the vale below, which was sublime and appaUing enough
to quicken the pulsations of the calmest heart. That form
was Napoleon Bonaparte ; and the scene before him,
the fierce and terrible " Battle of Mount Tabor."
6. From Nazareth, where the Savior once trod, Kle-
BER^ had marched with three thousand French soldiers
forth into the plain ; when, lo ! at the foot of Mount Tabor,
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 375
he saw the whole Turkish army drawn up in order of battle.
Fifteen thousand infantry, and twelve thousand splendid
cavalry, moved down in majestic strength on this band of
three thousand French. Kleber had scarcely time to
throw his handful of men into squares, with the cannon
at the angles, before those twelve thousand horse, making
the earth smoke and thunder as they came, burst in a
headlong gallop upon them.
7. But round those steady squares rolled a fierce de-
Touring fire, emptying the saddles of those wild horsemen
with frightful rapidity, and strewing the earth with the
bodies of riders and steeds together. Again and again did
those splendid squadrons wheel, re-form, and charge with
deafening shouts, while their uplifted and flashing cimeters
gleamed like a forest of steel through the smoke of battle ;
but that same wasting fire received them, till those squares
seemed bound by a girdle of flame, so rapid and constant
were the discharo;es.
8. Before their certain and deadly aim, as they stood
fighting for existence, the charging squadrons fell so fast,
that a rampart of dead bodies was soon formed around
them. Behind this embankment of dead men and horses,
this band of warriors stood and fought for six dreadful
hours, and was still steadily thinning the ranks of the
enemy, when Napoleon debpu9hed with a single division
on Mount Tabor, and turned his eye below. What a
scene met his gaze ! The whole plain was filled with
marching columns, and charging squadrons of wildly gal-
loping steeds, while the thunder of cannon and fierce rattle
of musketry, amid which now and then were heard the
blast of thousands of trumpets and strains of martial music,
filled the air.
9. The smoke of battle was rolling fi.iriously over the
376 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
hosts, and all was confusion and chaos in his sight. Amid
the twenty-seven thousand Turks that crowded the plain,
and enveloped their enemy like a cloud, and amid the
incessant discharge of artillery and musketry. Napoleon
could tell where his own brave troops were struggling,
only by the steady simultaneous volleys which showed
how discipline was contending with the wild valor of over-
powering numbers. The constant flashes from behind that
rampart of dead bodies were like spots of flame on the
tumultuous and chaotic field.
10. Napoleon descended from Mount Tabor with his
little band, while a single twelve-pounder, fired from the
hights, told the wearied Kleber that he was rushing to
the rescue. Then for the first time he took the offensive,
and, pouring his enthusiastic followers on the foe, carried
death and terror over the field. Thrown into confusion,
and trampled under foot, that mighty army rolled turbu-
lently back toward the Jordan, where Murat^ was anx-
iously waiting to mingle in the fight. Dashing with his
cavalry among the disordered ranks, he sabered them
down without mercy, and raged like a lion amid the prey.
11. This chivalric and romantic warrior declared that
the remembrance of the scenes that once transpired on
Mount Tabor, and on these thrice-consecrated spots, came
to him in the hottest of the fight, and nerved him with
tenfold courage. As the sun went down over the plains
of Palestine, and twilight shed its dim ray over the rent,
and trodden, and dead-covered field, a sulphurous cloud
hung around the summit of Mount Tabor. The smoke
of battle had settled there where once the cloud of glory
rested, while groans, and shrieks, and cries rent the air.
Nazareth, Jordan, and Mount Tabor ! what spots for bat-
tle-fields I
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 377
LESSON CXYIII.
* Es DRA e' lon is a plain of Palestine, often mentioned in sacred history.
It has been from the earliest history often the scene of bloody conflicts.
It is situated south of the plain of Galilee.
MOUNT TABOR. — Continued.
J. T. HEADLEY.
ROLL back eighteen centuries, and again view that
mount. The day is bright and beautiful, as on tlie
day of battle, and the same rich Oriental landscape is
smiling in the same sun. There is Nazareth, with its
busy population, — the same Nazareth from which Kleber
marched his army ; and there is Jordan, rolling its briglit
waters along, — the same Jordan along whose banks
charged the glittering squadrons of Murat's cavalry ; and
there is Mount Tabor, — the same on which Bonaparte
stood with his cannon ; and the same beautiful plain where
rolled the smoke of battle, and struggled thirty thousand
men in mortal combat.
2. But how different is the scene that is passing there !
The Son of God stands on that hight, and casts his eye
over the quiet valley, through which Jordan winds its sil-
very current. Three friends are beside Him. They have
walked together up the toilsome way; and now they stand,
mere specks on the distant summit. Far away to the
north-west shines the blue Mediterranean ; all around
is the great plain of Esdraelon^ and Galilee; eastward
the Lake of Tiberias dots the landscape ; while Mount
Carmel lifts its naked summit in the distance.
3. But the glorious landscape at their feet is forgotten
in a sublimer scene that is passing before them. The son
of Mary — the carpenter of Nazareth — the wanderer,
378 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
with whom they have traveled many a weary league, in
all the intimacy of companions and friends, begins to
change before their eyes. Over his garments is spreading
a strange light, steadily brightening into intenser beauty,
till that form glows with such splendor, that it seems to
waver to and fro, and dissolve in the still radiance.
4. The three astonished friends gaze on it in speechless
admiration, then turn to that familiar face. But, lo ! a
greater change has passed over it. That sad and solemn
countenance which has been so often seen stooping over
the couch of the dying, entering the door of the hut of
poverty, passing through the streets of Jerusalem, and
pausing by the weary way-side, — ay, bedewed with the
tears of pity, — now burns like the sun in his mid-day
splendor. Meekness has given way to majesty ; sadness, to
dazzling glory ; the look of pity, to the grandeur of a God.
5. The still radiance of Heaven sits on that serene brow,
and all around that divine form flows an atmosphere of
strange and wondrous beauty. Heaven has poured its
brightness over that consecrated spot ; and on the beams
of hght which glitter there, Moses and Elias have de-
scended, and, wrapped in the same shining vestments,
stand beside him. Wonder follows wonder, for those
three glittering forms are talking with each other ; and
amid the thrilling accents are heard the words, " Mount
Olivet," " Calvary ! " — " the agony and the death of the
crucifixion ! "
6. No wonder a sudden fear came over Peter, that para-
lyzed his tongue, and crushed him to the earth, when, in
the midst of his speech, he saw a cloud descend like a fall-
ing star from heaven, and, bright and dazzling, balance
itself over those forms of light, while from its bright fold-
ings came a voice, saying, — '' This is my beloved Son, in
whom I am well pleased ; hear ye Him ! "
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 379
7. How long the vision lasted, we can not tell ; but all
that night did Jesus, with his friends, stay on that lonely
mountain. Of the conversation that passed between them
there, we know nothing ; but little sleep, we imagine, vis-
ited their eyes that night; and as they sat on the high
summit," and watched the stars as they rose one after
another above the horizon, and gazed on the moon as she
poured her light over the dim and darkened landscape,
words were spoken that seemed born of Heaven, and
truths never to be forgotten were uttered in the ears of the
subdued and reverent discij)les.
8. Oh, how different are Heaven and earth ! Can there
be a stronorer contrast than the Battle and Transfigura-
TiON of Mount Tabor ? One shudders to think of Bona-
parte and the Son of God on the same mountain, — one
with his wasting cannon by his side, and the other with
Moses and Elias just from Heaven. But no after desecra-
tion can destroy the first consecration of Mount Tabor ;
for, surrounded with the glory of Heaven, and honored
with the wondrous scene of the Transfiguration, it
stands a sacred mountain on the earth.
LESSON CXIX.
NATHAN HALE.
FRANCIS M. FINCH.
Part of a poem delivered in 1853 at a centennial anniversary of the Linonian
Society, Yale College. Nathan Hale was one of the early members.
1. rpO drum-beat,' and heart-beat,
X A soldier marches by :
There is color in his cheek,
There is courage in his eye ;
Yet to drum-beat, and heart-beat,
In a moment he must die.
380 SANDEES' UKION SEEIE8.
2. By starlight and moonlight
He seeks the Briton's camp;
He hears the rustling flag,
And the armed sentry's tramp ;
And the starlight and moonhght
The silent wanderer's lamp.
8. With slow tread, and still tread, .
He scans the tented line ;
And he counts the battery-guns
By the gaunt and shadowy pine ;
And his slow tread, and still tread,
Gives out no warning sign.
4. A sharp clang, a stetl clang,
And terror in the sound ;
For the sentry, eagle-eyed,
In the camp a spy hath found ;
With a sharp clang, a steel clang,
The patriot is bound.
6. With calm brow, steady brow.
He listens to his doom :
In his look there is no fear,
Nor a shadow-trace of gloom ;
But with calm brow, steady brow,
He robes him for the tomb.
6. In the long night, the still night.
He kneels upon -the sod ;
And his brutal guards Avithhold
E'en the solemn word of God ;
In the long night, the still night,
He " passeth under the rod."*
* Ezekiel, 20th chapter, 37th verse.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 381
7. 'Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn,
He dies upon the tree ;
And he mourns that he can lose
But one life for Liberty ;
In the blue morn, the sunny mom,
His spirit-wings are free.
8. His last words, his message-words, '
They burn, lest friendly eye
Should read how proud and calm
A patriot could die ;
With his last words, his message-words,
A soldier's battle-cry.
9. From fame-leaf, and angel-leaf.
From monument and urn.
The sad of Earth, the glad of Heaven,
His tragic fate shfill learn ;
And on fame-leaf and angel-leaf
The name of Hale shall burn.
LESSON CXX.
* Col OS se' um. See note, page 333.
^ Par' the non, a celebrated temple of Minerva at Athens, in Greece.
LOSS OF THE UNION IRREPARABLE.
DANIEL WEBSTER.
From a eulogy on Washington, delivered in the city of Washington, in
honor of his centennial birthday, Feb. 22, 1832.
WASHINGTON, therefore, could regard, and did re^
gard, nothing as of paramount political interest, but
the integrity of the Union itself. With a 'hnited govern-
ment, well administered, he saw we had nothing to fear ;
382 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and, without it, notliing to hope. The sentiment is just,
and its momentous truth should solemnly impress the
whole country.
2. If we might regard our Country as personated in the
spirit of Washington, if we miglit consider him as repre-
senting her in her past renown, her present prosperity,
and her future career, and as, in that character, demanding
of us all to account for our conduct as political men or as
private citizens, how should he answer him who has vent-
ured to talk of disunion and dismemberment ? Or how
should he answer him who dwells perpetually on local
interests, and fans every kindling flame of local prejudice ?
How should he answer him who would array State against
State, interest against interest, and party against party,
careless of the continuance of that unity of govermnent
which constitutes us one people ?
3. Gentlemen, the political prosperity* which this coun-
try has attained, and which it now enjoys, it has acquired
mainly through the instrumentality of the present govern-
ment. While this agent continues, the capacity of attain-
ing to still higher degrees of prosperity exists also. We
have, while this lasts, a political life capable of beneficial
exertion, with power to resist or overcome misfortunes, to
sustain us against the ordinarv accidents of human affairs,
and to promote, by active efforfs, every public interest.
4. But dismemberment strikes at the very being ivhich pre-
serves these faculties. It would lay its rude and ruthless
hand on this great agent itself. It would sweep away, not
only what we possess, but all power of regaining lost or
acquiring new possessions. It would leave the country,
not only bereft of its prosperity and happiness, but without
limbs, or orgalis, or faculties, by which to exert itself here-
after in the pursuit of that prosperity and happiness.
UNION FIFTH READEE. 383
5. Other misfortunes may be borne, or their effects over-
come. If disastrous war sliould sweep our commerce from
the ocean, another generation may renew it ; if it exliaust
our treasury, future industry may replenish it ; if it deso-
late and lay waste our fields, still, under a new cultivation,
they will grow green again, and ripen to future harvests.
It were but a trifle even, if the walls of yonder Capitol
w^ere to crumble, if its lofty pillars should fall, and its gor-
geous decorations be all covered by the dust of the valley.
All these mio-ht be rebuilt. But who shall reconstruct
the fabric of demolished government ? Who shall rear again
the well-proportioned colunnis of constitutional liberty ?
Who shall frame to£i;ether the skillful architecture which
unites national sovereignty with state rights, individual
security, and public prosperity ?
6. No, gentlemen : if these columns fall, they will be
raised not again. Like the Colosseum,^ and the Parthe-
non,^ they will be destined to a mournful, a melancholy
immortality. Bitterer tears, however, will flow over them
than were ever shed over the monuments of Roman or
Grecian art ; for they will be the remnants of a more glo-
rious edifice than Greece or Rome ever saw, — the edifice
of constitutional American liberty.
7. But, gentlemen, let us hope for better things. Let
us trust in that gracious Being who has hitherto held our
country as in the hollow of His hand. Let us trust to the
virtue and the intelligence of the people, and. to the effi-
cacy of religious obligation. Let us trust to the influence
of Washington's example. Let us hope that that fear of
Heaven which expels all other fear, and tiiat regard to
duty which transcends all other regard, may influence pub-
lic men and private citizens, and lead ou^' country still
onward in her happy career.
384 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
8. Full of these gratifying anticipations and hopes, let
us look forward to the end of that century which is now
commenced. A hundred years hence, other disciples of
Washington will celebrate his birth, with no less of sincere
admiration than we now commemorate it. When they
shall meet, as we now meet, to do themselves and him that
honor, so surely as they shall see the blue summits of his
native mountains rise in the horizon, so surely as they shall
behold the river on whose banks he lived, and on whose
banks he rests, still flowing on toward the sea, so surely
may they see, as we now see, the flag of the Union floating
on the top of the Capitol ; and then, as now, may the sun
in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more
lovely, than this our own country !
LESSON CXXI.
* Per I he' LI on, (peri, near; helion, the sun;) the point of a planet's
orbit nearest to the sun.
* Ple' IAD, one of the Pleiades, a group of seven small stars situated in the
neck of the constellation Taurus, regarded by Madler as the central
group of the system of the Milky Way.
' South' ERN Cross. See note, page 138.
* Pole-Star. See note, page 138.
* Di A pa' son, (dia, through; pason, all;) all through the octave, or inter-
val which includes all the tones of the diatonic scale ; the entire com-
pass of tones.
STARS IN MY COUNTRY'S SKY.
MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
1. A RE ye all there, are ye all there,
IX Stars of my country's sky?
Are ye all there, are ye all there,
In your shining homes on high ?
UKION FIFTH READER, 385
" Count us, count us ! " was their answer,
As tliey dazzled on my view,
In glorious perihelion,^
Aniid their field of blue.
2. I can not count ye rightly ;
There's a cloud with sable rim ;
I can not make your number out,
For my eyes with tears are dim.
Oh I bright and blessed angel
On white wino; floating bv,
Help me to count, and not to miss
One star in my country's sky !
3. Then the angel touched mine eyelids,
And touched the frowning cloud ;
And its sable rim departed,
And it fled with murky shroud.
There was no missing Pleiad ^
'Mid all that sister race ;
The Southern Cross ^ gleamed radiant forth.
And the Pole-star* kept its place.
4. Then I knew it was the angel
Who woke the hymning strain.
That, at our Redeemer's birth,
Pealed out o'er Bethlehem's plain :
And still its heavenly key-tone
My listening country held ;
For all her constellated stars
The diapason^ swelled.
17
386 SAl^DERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSOI^ CXXII.
GOD BLESS OUR STARS.
B. F. TAYLOR,
OD bless our stars forever ! "
Thus the angels sang sublime,
When round God's forges fluttered fast
The sparks of starry time ;
"When they fanned them with their pinions.
Till they kindled into day,
And revealed Creation's bosom,
Where the infant Eden lay.
'•"G
2. " God bless our stars forever ! "
Thus they sang, the seers of old,
When they beckoned to the Morning,
Through the future's misty fold, —
When they waved the wand of wonder,
When they breathed the magic word,
And the pulses' golden glimmer
Showed the wakino; granite heard.
'to to'
3. " God bless our stars forever ! ''
'Tis the burden of the song
Where the sail through hollow midnight
Is flickering along ;
When a ribbon of blue heaven
Is a-gleaming through the clouds,
With a star or two upon it,
For the sailor in the shrouds.
4. " God bless our stars forever ! **
It is Liberty's refrain,
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 387
From the snows of wild Nevada
To the sounding woods of Maine r
Where the green Multno'mah wanders }
Where the Alabama rests ;
Where the thunder shakes his turban
Over Alleghany's crests ;
5. Where the mountams of New England
Mock Atlantic's stormy main ;
Where God's palm imprints the prairie
With the type of heaven again ;
Where the mirrored morn is dawning,
Link to link, our lakes along ;
And Sacramento's Golden Gate
Swinging open to the song, —
6. There and there, " Our stars forever ! ''
How it echoes ! How it thrills !
Blot that banner ? AVhy, they bore it
When no sunset bathed tlie hills.
Now over Bunker see it billow,
Now at Bennington it waves,
Ticonderoga swells beneath.
And Saratoga's graves !
7. Oh ! long ago at Lexington,
And above those minute-men,
The " Old Thirteen '' were blazing brig]it, —
There were onl?/ thirteen then !
God's own stars are gleaming through it, —
Stars not woven in its thread ;
Unfurl it, and that flag Avill glitter
With the lieaven overhead.
S88 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES.
8. Oh ! it waved above the Pilgrims,
On the pinions of the prayer ;
Oh ! it billowed o'er the battle,
On the surges of the air ;
Oh ! the stars have risen in it,
Till the eagle waits the sun,
And Freedom from her mountain-watch
Has counted " thirty-one."*
9. When the weary Years are halting
In the mighty march of Time,
And no new ones throng the threshold
Of its corridors sublime, —
When the clarion call, '' Close up! "
Rings along the line no more, —
Then adieu, thou blessed banner,
Then adieu, and not before !
LESSOIvT CXXIII.
^ Corn wal' lis, Chaples, was born Dec. 31, 1738. He entered the Brit-
ish army early, and obtained deserved promotion and credit in tlie last
campaign of the Seven - Years' War. He served actively and honorably as
major-general under Howe and Clinton, in the first year of the Ameri-
can War ; and, in 1780, he held an independent command. He gained
several victories; but was at last shut up and besieged in Yorklown,
where he was obliged to surrender himself and his army, after an obsti-
nate and gallant defense, on the 19th of October, 1781. In 1805, he
was a second time made Governor of India; but the old warrior's
strength failed him, and he died at Ghazepore, Oct. 5, 1 805.
*Knox, IIknry, a major-general in the American army, was born in Boston,
July 25, 1750. He served as a volunteer at the battle of Bunker Hill.
In 1776, he was appointed to the command of the artillery-corps, with
the rank of brigadier-general. He distinguished himself at Trenton^
Princeton, German town, and Monmouth. He died in 1806.
* There are now thirty-six States.
UNION FIFTH EEADEK. 38J
WASHINGTON'S JOURNEY TO HIS INAUGURATION.
W. IRVING.
ON" the fourteenth of April, 1789, he received a lettei
from tlie President of the Congress, duly notifying him
of his election ; and he prepared to set out immediately
for New York, the seat of government. An entry in his
diary, dated the 16th, says, — "About ten o'clock, I bade
adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic!
felicity ; and, with a mind oppressed with more anxious
and painful sensations than I have words to express, set
out with the best disposition to render service to my coun-
try in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering
its expectations."
2. At the first stage of his journey, a trial of his tender-
est feelings awaited him at a public dinner given him in
Alexandria by his neighbors and personal friends, among
whom he had lived in the constant interchange of kind
offices, and who were aw^are of the practical beneficence
of his private character. A deep feeling of regret mingled
with their festivity. The mayor, who presided, and spoke
the sentiments of the people of Alexandria, deplored in his
departure the loss of the first and best of their citizens, the
ornament of the aged, the model of the young, the im-
prover of their agriculture, the friend of their commerce,
the benefactor of their poor ; but " ^o," added he, " and
make a grateful people happy^ who will be doubly grate-
ful when they contemplate this new sacrifice for their
interests."
3. Washington was too deeply affected for many words
in reply. '' Just after having bade adieu to my do
MESTIC CONNECTIONS," Said he, '' THIS TENDER PROOF OF
YOUR FRIENDSHIP IS BUT TOO WEIJ- CALCUEATED TO
390 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES.
AWAKEN STILL FURTHER MY SENSIBILITY, AND INCREASE
MY REGRET AT PARTING FROM THE ENJOYMENTS OF PRI-
VATE LIFE. All that now remains for me is to
COMMIT MYSELF AND YOU TO THE CARE OF THAT BE-
NEFICENT Being, who, on a former occasion, hap-
pily BROUGHT US TOGETHER AFTER A LONG AND DIS-
TRESSING SEPARATION. PeRHAPS THE SAME GRACIOUS
Providence will again indulge me. But words
FAIL ME. Unutterable sensations must, then, be
LEFT TO MORE EXPRESSIVE SILENCE, WHILE, FROM AN
ACHING HEART, I BID ALL MY AFFECTIONATE FRIENDS
AND KIND NEIGHBORS FAREWELL ! "
4. His progress to tlie seat of governmeiit was a con-
tinual ovation. The ringing of bells and roaring of can-
nonry proclaimed his course through the country. The
old and young, women and children, thronged the high-
ways to bless and welcome him. Deputations of the most
respectable inhabitants from the principal places came
forth to meet and escort him. Washington had hoped
to be spared all military parade, but found it was not to
be evaded. Cavalry had assembled from the surroundino;
country ; a superb white horse was led out for Washington
to mount ; arid a grand procession set forward, with Gen. St.
Clair, of Revolutionary notoriety, at its head. It gathered
numbers as it advanced ; passed under triumphal arches
in twined with laurel, and entered Philadelphia amid the
shouts of the multitude.
5. A day of public festivity succeeded, ended by a dis-
play of fireworks. Washington's reply to the congratula-
tions of the mayor, at a great civic banquet, spoke the
genuine feelings of his modest nature, amid these testimo-
nials of a world's applause. " When I contemplate the
interposition of Providence, as it was visibly manifested in
UNION FIFTH READER. 391
guiding us througli the Revolution, in preparing us for the
reception of the general government, and in conciliating
the good will of the people of America toward one another
after its adoption, I feel myself oppressed and almost over-
whelmed with a sense of divine munificence. I feel that
nothing is due to my personal agency in all those wonder-
ful and complicated events, except what can be attributed
to an honest zeal for the good of my country."
6. We question whether any of these testimonials of a
nation's gratitude affected Washington more sensibly than
those he received at Trenton. It was on a sunny after-
noon when he arrived on the banks of the Delaware,
where, twelve years before^ he had crossed in darkness and
storm, through clouds of snow and drifts of floating ice,
on his daring attempt to strike a blow at a triumphant
enemy. Here, at present, all was peace and sunshine;
the broad river flowed placidly along ; and crowds awaited
him on the opposite bank, to hail him with love and
transport.
7. We will not dwell on the joyous ceremonials with
w^hich he was welcomed ; but there was one too peculiar
to be omitted. The reader may remember Washington's
gloomy night on the banks of the Assunpink, which flows
through Trenton ; the camp-fires of Cornwallis^ in front
of him, the Delaware full of floating ice in the rear, and
his sudden resolve on that midnifjht retreat which turned
the fortunes of the campaign. On the bridge crossing that
eventful stream, the ladies of Trenton had caused a tri-
umphal arch to be erected. It was intwined with ever-
jrrecns and laurels, and bore the inscription, — ''The
Defender of the jNIothers will be the Protector
OF the Daughters."
8. At this bridge the matrons of the city were assembled
392* SANDEES' UNION SEEIES.
to pay him reverence ; and, as he passed under the arch,
a number of young girls, dressed in white and crowned
with garlands, strewed flowers before him, singing an ode
expressive of their love and gratitude. Never was ovation
more* graceful, touching, and sincere; and Washington,
tenderly affected, declared that the impression of it on his
heart could never be effaced. His whole progress through
New Jersey must have afforded a similar contrast to his
weary marchings to and fro, harassed by doubts and per-
plexities, with bale-fires blazing on its hills, instead of
festive illuminations, and when the ringing of bells and
booming of cannon, now so joyous, were the signals of
invasion and maraud.
9. In respect to his reception at New York, Washington
had signified in a letter to Governor Clinton that none
could be so congenial to his feelings as a quiet entry,
devoid of ceremony ; but his modest wishes were not com-
plied with. At Elizabeth town Point, a committee of both
Houses of 'Congress, with various civic functionaries,
waited by appointment to receive him. He embarked
on board of a splendid barge constructed for the occasion.
It was manned by thirteen branch-pilots, masters of ves-
sels, in white uniforms, and commanded by Commodore
Nicholson. Other barges fancifully decorated followed,
having on board the heads of departments, and other pub-
lic officers, and several distinguished citizens. As they
passed through the strait between the Jerseys and Staten
Island, called the Kills, other boats decorated with flags
foil in their wake, until the whole, forming a nautical pro-
cession, swept up the broad and beautiful bay of New York
to the sound of instrumental music.
10. On board of two vessels were parties of ladies and
gentlemen, who sang congratulatory odes as Washington's
UNION FIFTH READER. 393
barge approached. The sliips at anchor in the harbor,
dressed in colors, fired salutes as it passed. One alone,
*•' The Galveston," a Spanish man-of-war, displayed no signs
of gratulation until the barge of the general was nearly
abreast ; when suddenly, as if by magic, the yards were
manned ; the ship burst forth, as it were, into a full array
of fla^s and sionals, and thundered a salute of thirteen
guns. He approached the landing-place of Murray's
Wharf amid the ringing of bells, the roaring of cannonry,
and the shouting of multitudes collected on every pier-
head.
11. On landing, he was received by Governor Clinton.
General Knox,'- too, who had taken such affectionate leave
of him on his retirement from military life, was there to
welcome him in his civil capacity. Other of his fellow-
soldiers of the Revolution were likewise there, and mingled
with the civic dignitaries. At this juncture, an officer
stepjjed up and requested Washington's orders, announ-
eino; himself as commandino; his guard. Washino-ton de-
cs o o &
sired him to proceed according to the directions he might
have received in the present arrangements ; but that, for
the future^ the affection of his fellow-citizens was all the
guard he wanted.
12. Carpets had been spread to a carriage prepared to
convey him to his destined residence ; but he preferred to
walk. He was attended by a long civil and military train.
In the streets through which he passed, the houses were
decorated with flags, silken banners, garlands of flowers
and evergreens, and bore his name in every form of orna-
ment. The streets were crowded with people, so that it
was with difficulty a passage could be made by the city
officers. Washington frequently bowed to the multitude
as he passed, taking off his" hat to the ladies, who thronged
394 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
every window, waving their handkerchiefs, throwing flow-
ers before him, and many of them shedding tears of enthu-
biasm.
LESSON CXXIV.
* C^' SAR, Caius Julius, the first Roman emperor, was born July 12, b.c.
100. He was one of the greatest warriors that Rome ever produced.
Having subjugated Gaul, he quarreled with Pompey, and, pursuing
him into Greece, brought the contest to a final issue on the plains of
Pharsalia, Aug. 4, b c. 48. He next went to Africa; and, having van-
quished the army under Scipio and Cato, he returned in triumph to
Rome, and devoted himself to the duties of dictator. But his career
was destined to be short. A conspiracy against his life was formed ;
and on the Ides, or 15th, of March, he perished by the hands of assas-
sins in the senate-house, B.C. 44. As a warrior, statesman, and a man
of letters, Coesar was one of the most remarkable men that ever lived.
^Bo'na parte. Napoleon, one of the most remarkable of military men,
was born in Corsica, an island in the Mediterranean, Feb. 5, 1768:
although he afterwards gave out that he was born 1.5th August, 1769 ;
and that is usually considered as the period of his nativity. After
leaving the military school at Brienne, he went to Paris, and entered
wpon his military career. In 1S04, he became Emperor of Prance.
After remarkable successes and reverses, he was defeated by the allied
armies under Wellington, June 18, 1815. He was removed to St.
Helena, where he died May 5, 1821.
LINCOLN'S JOURNEY TO HIS INAUGURATION.
L. H. WHITNEY.
SPECIAL train of cars was provided for him ; and,
A
on the eleventli day of February, 1861, bidding fare-
well to his neiglibors and friends at Springfield in tliese
solemn words, he took his departure : —
" My Friends^ — No one, not in my position, can ap-
preciate THE SADNESS I FEELAT THIS PARTING. To THIS
PEOPLE I OWE ALL THAT I AM. HeRE HAVE I LIVED FOR
UNION FIFTH READER. 395
MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY ; HERE MY CHILDREN
WERE BORN, AND HERE ONE OF THEM LIES BURIED. I
KNOW NOT HOW SOON I SHALL SEE YOU AGAIN. A DUTY
DEVOLVES UPON ME, WHICH IS, PERHAPS, GREATER THAN
THAT WHICH HAS DEVOLVED UPON ANY OTHER MAN SINCE
THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON. No MAN COULD HAVE SUC-
CEEDED, EXCEPT BY THE AID OF DiVINE PROVIDENCE, UPON
WHICH HE AT ALL TIMES RELIED. I FEEL THAT I CAN NOT
SUCCEED WITHOUT THE SAME DIVINE AID THAT SUSTAINED
HIM, AND IN THE SAME AlMIGHTY BeING I PLACE MY RE-
LIANCE FOR SUPPORT ; AND I HOPE YOU, MY FRIENDS, WTLL
ALL PRAY THAT I MAY RECEIVE THAT DIVINE ASSISTANCE,
WITHOUT WHICH I CAN NOT SUCCEED, BUT WITH WHICH
SUCCESS IS CERTAIN. AgAIN I BID YOU ALL AN AFFECTION-
ATE FAREWELL."
2. Toward the conclusion of these remarks, himself and
audience were moved to tears. His request that he might
have the prayers of his friends and neighbors for his suc-
cess was responded to by choked exclamations of ^' We
will! we will!^'' As he turned, and entered the cars,
three cheers burst involuntarily from a thousand lips; and
a Godspeed and safe journey were wished him as the train
moved slowly out of sight. When he went forth from his
quiet home in the West to put upon him the majestic
robes of that more than kingly office, the nation and the
w^orld listened to his utterances and watched his steps Avith
extraordinary interest.
3. His journey was like the march of a conqueror.
Curious crowds gathered all along the road to catch a
glimpse of him as the train rushed past them. Cheers,
the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, and the booming of
cannon, greeted him at every station. At the last town in
his State, he told the throng that gathered about him that
396 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
he was " leaving them upon an errand of national impor-
tance, attended with many difficulties ; but, as the poet has
expressed it, let us believe that
* There's a silver lining to every cloud.' "
The train swept on ; his route lay through most of the
great cities of the Northern States, and all vied to do him
honor.
4. Immense crowds awaited his coming. Flags and
banners were suspended across the track. The roar of'
cannon announced his approach. The streets were liter^
ally blocked with people assembled to greet him. Th^
reception was an era in his life, as well as in the history of
the country. No king, however mighty, was ever greeteci
with such welcome. Caesar^ and Napoleon^ had their tri-
umphs ; but they rode to power amid a deluge of blood
and tears. The object of this grateful homage had been
elevated to an honor more lofty than their thrones by the
wish and will of a great and intelligent people, thr<»ugh
the peaceful agency of the ballot-box.
LESSON CXXV.
DAY-STAR OF LIBERTY.
M. A. MOSES.
•I
N that dark, gloomy night,
Ere Freedom's bright mom,
When the strong hand of J\light
Man's Right laughed to scorn.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 397
Througli battle and strife,
Through blood and througli death,
Came a glorious life, —
'Twas Liberty's birth !
Through the smoke of that conflict pervading the skies,
Behold the day-star of Liberty rise !
2. Li the gathering gloom
Of that perilous hour,
When our fathers o'ertumed
The mad tyrant's power ;
Through darkness and storm,
By night and by day.
The pure light of freedom
Illumined the way :
'Twas then, O Columbia ! 'mid carnage and war,
First dawned on the world thy bright natal star I
3. On Lexincrton's sward,
Down Bunker's steep side.
From the breasts of the slain
Ran the crimson life-tide ;
Across Delaware's stream,
Through bleak Valley Forge,
Where blood marked their steps
In that wild mountain gorge ;
Still Freedom's blest hope those heroes led on
To battle and death, till triumph was won.
4. On Camden's hot plains.
By Brandywine's wave,
The cohorts of foemen
Found many a grave ;
398 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
And Yorktown's proud rampart
In vain raised its side
'Gainst the wild rushing surge
Of Liberty's tide ;
In a halo of glory, o'er land and o'er sea,
Kovv floats in glad triumph the flag ©f the free !
5. From hill-top and mountain,
From valley and plain.
Ring glad shouts from millions
For Liberty's reign ;
The forest and prairie,
The ocean and stream,
In the sunlight of freedom
With new luster gleam ;
While our bright starry banner, wherever unfurled,
Is humanity's beacon, — the hope of the world!
6. Say, sons of the martyrs
In Fx'eedom's cause slain.
Shall the strong hand of tyrants
This land rend in twain ?
By the blood of those martyrs
For you freely given.
By the pra,yers of the millions
Ascending to heaven.
Go, kneel at the graves of your fathers, and swear
That our flag shall still float in Freedom's pure air !
LESSON CXXYL
'Xerx' es, (ZerW es,) the celebrated Kini^ of Persia, was the son of
Darius. He succeeded his father, 485 B.C., and raised an army of
1,700,000 foot and 80,000 horse, besides camels, chariots, and ships
of war. While the Pass of Thermopylae was defended by Leonidas and
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 399
his Spartans, Themistocles rallied his countrymen, and defeated Xerxes
at the battle of Salamis, 480 B.C. (Refer to note in Fourth Reader.)
' Grac' chus, Tiberius and Caius, two brothers, Roman tribunes, who
having urged the revival of the agrarian laws, which required a divis-
ion of the public lands among the people, were successively slain in a
tumult raised by the senators and nobles. The mother of the Gracchi
was Cornelia, the daughter of the famous Scipio Africanus, who
defeated Hannibal in the battle of Zama, and humbled the pride of
Carthage, at the close of the Second Punic War, 202 B.C.
* Her' MANN, or Arminius, a brave German patriot and soldier, who for
some time supported a bloody war against Rome, but was at last de-
feated by Germanicus, and subsequently poisoned through the treach-
ery of one of his friends, a.d. 19.
*Tell, William, was a peasant, born near Altorf, iff Switzerland, and
celebrated for his resistance to the tyranny of Gesler, an Austrian gov-
ernor. He was compelled to shoot an apple from his son's head for
refusing to bow to Gesler's hat elevated on a pole. Being a skillful
archer, he cleft the apple without injury to his son.
^Spar'ta cus, a native of Thrace, became a soldier in the Roman army,
and, having deserted, was sold as a slave, and finally numbered with
the gladiators condemned to destroy each other for the amusement of
the people. Having made his escape, he collected a band of despe-
radoes, and, for a long time, bade defiance to the whole power of
Rome. He was at last, however, defeated by the Romans under Cras-
sus, 71 B.C.
•^Wat the Tyler. In the reign of Richard II., King of England, a poll-
tax of three groats was levied on each male and female above the age
of fifteen. The proceedings of the collectors of these taxes were of
the most inquisitorial character ; and their insults to the young women
became so odious, that they were resisted by the people. One Walter
the Tyler, having knocked a tax-gatherer on the head for insulting his
daughter, Avas made chief of the insurgents ; and hence the popular
rising of the people is known as Wat the Tyler's Rebellion.
«0N TO FREEDOM."
A. J. H. DUG ANNE.
N to Freedom ! on to Freedom ! "
'Tis tlie everlasting cry
Of the floods that strive with ocean,
Of the storm that smites the sky,
1...Q
400 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Of the atoms in the whirlwindj
Of the seed beneath the ground,
Of each Hving thing in Nature
That is bound.
'Twas the cry that led from Egypt, ^
Through the desert wilds of Edom, —
Out of darkness, out of bondage, —
'' On to Freedom ! on to Freedom I "
2. O thou stony-hearted Pharaoh,
Vainly warrest thou with God !
Moveless at thy palace-portals,
Moses waits with lifted rod !
O thou poor barbarian Xerxes,^
Vainly o'er the Pontic main
Flino-est thou to curb its utterance
o
Scourge or chain !
For the cry that led from Egypt,
Over desert wilds of Edom,
Speaks alike through Greek and Hebrew,
''''On to Freedom! on to Freedom T'*
3. In the Roman streets, from Gracchus,^
Hark ! I heai* that cry out-swell ;
In the German woods, from Hermann ;'
And on Switzer hills, from Tell^ !
Up from Spartacus,^ the bondman,
When his tyrant's yoke he clave ;
And from stalwart Wat the Tyler,®
Saxon slave !
Still the old, old cry of Egypt,
Struggling out from wilds of Edom,
Sounding down through all the ages, —
'-'-On to Freedom! on to Freedom!"
UNION FIFTH READER.
4. God's own mandate, — " On to Freedom ! "
Gospel-cry of laboring Time,
Uttering still, through seers and heroes,
Words of hope and faith sublime !
From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens,
And our Washingtons, they come ;
And we can not, and we dare not,
Make them dumb !
Out of all the shames of Egypt,
Out of all the snares of Edom,
Out of darkness, out'of bondage, —
''O/i to Freedom! on to Freedom I "
401
LESSON CXXYII.
ADDRESS TO THE RETURNED SOLDIERS.
REV. J. M. MANNING.
SOLDIERS from the army and navy, once soldiers, but
now again citizens, we hail you to-day as our bene-
factors and deliverers. We welcome you home from the
fatigues of the march, the wearisome camp, and the awful
ecstasy of battle. Through four terrible years you have
looked without quailing on the ghastly visage of war.
You have patiently borne the heats of summer and the
frosts of winter. You have cheerfully exchanged the de-
lights of home for the hardships of the campaign or block-
ade. Not only the armed foe, but the wasting malaria,
has lurked along your resistless advance.
2. You know the agony and the transport of the deadly
encounter. How many times, standing each man at his
post, in the long line of gleaming sabers and bayonets,
26
402 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
every hand clinched, and every eye distended, you have
caught the peal of your leader's clarion, and sprung
through the iron storm to the embrace of victory ! But
all that has passed away. The mangled forests are putting
on an unwonted verdure, the fields once blackened by the
fiery breath of war ai'e now covered with their softest
bloom, and the vessels of commerce are riding on all the
national waters.
3. The carnage, the groans, the cries for succor, the
fierce onset and sullen recoil, the thunders of the artillery,
and the missiles screaming like demons in the air, have
given way to paeans, civic processions, and songs of thanks-
giving. The flag of your country, so often rent and torn
in your grasp, and which you have borne in triumph again
and again, over the quaking earth, or through the hurri-
cane of death, on river and bay, rolls out its peaceful folds
above you, every star blazing with the glory of your deeds,
in token of a Nation's gratitude. We come forth to meet
you — sires and matrons, young men and maidens, chil-
dren and those bowed with age — to own the vast debt
which we can never pay, and to say, from full hearts, we
thank you ; God bless you !
4. But while we thus address you, you are thinking of
the fallen. With a soldier's generosity, you wish they
could be here to share in this welcome. But they peace-
fully rest in the humble grave in which you laid them, and
their names are enshrined in the grateful remembrance of
the Nation. You may tarnish your laurels, or an envious
hand may pluck them from your brows. Bvit your fallen
comrades are exposed to no such accident. They are
doubly fortunate ; for the same event which crowned them
with honor, has placed them beyond the possibility of
losing their crown.
UNION FIFTH READER. 403
6. Many of them died in the darkest hours of the re-
pubHc ; others m the early dawn of peace, while the morn-
ing-stars were singing together. But victory and defeat
make no differences among them now. They have all
conquered in the final triumph. Their names will thrill
the coming ages, as they are spoken by the tongues of the
eloquent ; and their deeds will forever be chanted by im-
mortal minstrels.
6. " By fairy hands their knell is iTing,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there."
LESSON CXXVIII.
THE HONORED DEAD.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
HOW bright are the honors which await those who,
with sacred fortitude and patriotic patience, have en-
dured all things that they might save their native land
from division ! The honored dead ! They that die for
a good cause are redeemed from death. Their names are
gathered and garnered. Their memory is precious. Each
place grows proud for them who were born there.
2. There is to be, ere long, in every village, and in
every neighborhood, a glowing pride in its martyred he-
roes. Tablets shall preserve their names. Pious love
shall renew their inscriptions as time and the unfeeling
elements efface them. And the national festivals shall
give multitudes of precious names to the orator's lips.
404 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Children shall grow up under more sacred inspirations,
whose elder brothers, dying nobly for their country, left a
name that honored and inspired all. who bore it. Orphan
children shall find thousands of fathers and mothers to love
and help those whom dying heroes left as a legacy to the
gratitude of the public.
3. Oh, tell me not that they are dead, — that generous
host, that airy army of invisible heroes ! They hover as
a cloud of witnesses above this nation. Are they dead that
yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal
language' ? Are they dead that yet act' ? Are they dead
that yet move upon society, and inspire the people with
nobler motives and more heroic patriotism'?
4. Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears.
He was your son ; but now he is the nation's. He made
your household bright ; now his example inspires a thou-
sand households. Dear to his brothers and sisters, he is
now brother to every generous youth in the land. Before^
he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you. Now he is
augmented, set free, and given to alL He has died from
the family that he might live to the nation. Not one name
shall be forgotten or neglected ; and it shall, by and by, be
confessed of our modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero,
that he did more for his country by his death than by his
whole life.
5. Neither are they less honored who shall bear through
life the marks of wounds and sufferings. Neither epaulet
nor badge is so honorable as wounds received in a good
cause. Many a man shall envy him who henceforth limps.
So strange is the transforming power of patriotic ardor,
that men shall almost covet disfigurement. Crowds will
give way to hobbling cripples, and uncover in the presence
of feebleness and helplessness. And buoyant children
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 405
shall pause in their noisy games, and with loving rever-
ence honor those whose hands can work no more, and
whose feet are no longer able to march except upon that
journey which brings good men to honor and immortality.
6. O mother of lost children ! set not in darkness nor
sorrow those whom a nation honors. O mourners of tlie
early dead ! they shall live again, and live forever. Your
sorrows are our gladness. The nation lives because you'
gave it men that loved it better than their own lives. And
when a few more days shall have cleared the perils from
around the Nation's brow, and she shall sit in unsullied
garments of liberty, with justice upon her forehead, love in
her eyes, and truth upon her lips, she shall not forget those
whose blood gave vital currents to her heart, and whose
life, given to her, shall Hve with her hfe till time shall be
no more.
7. Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured
name, every river shall keep some solemn title, every val-
ley and every lake shall cherish its honored register ; and
till the mountains are w^oni out, and the rivers forget to
flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and
the springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their
names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are in-
scribed upon the book of National Remembrance.
LESSON CXXIX
* Tat too', a beat of drum at night, giving notice to soldiers to retreat, or
to repair to their quarters in garrison, or to their tents in camp.
'Biv'ocAC, [hiv' wdk,) the guard or watch of a whole army, as in cases of
great danger of surprise or attack ; an encampment without tents or
covering.
The following poem was written on the occasion of the removal to the
cemetery at Fraifkfort of the remains of Kentucky soldiers who fell at
Buena Vista, Mexico.
406 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES.
THE SOLDIER'S DIRGE.
COL. O'HAKA.
1. rTHE muffled drum's sad roll has beat
I The soldier's last tattoo^ ;
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread ;
And glory guards with solemn round
The bivouac^ of the dead.
2. No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind ;
^ No troubled thoughts, at midnight haunts,
Of loved ones left behind ;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warrior's dream alarms ;
No braying horn, nor screaming fife,
At dawn shall call to arms.
3. Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave ;
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave.
Nor shall your glory be forgot,
While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where valor proudly sleeps.
4. Yon faithful herald's blazoned stone
With mournful pride shall tell,
When many a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell.
UNION FIFTH READER. 407
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's flight,
Nor time's remorseless doom.
Shall mar one ray of glory's light
That gilds your deathless tomb.
LESSON CXXX.
THE WIDOWED SWORD.
ANON.
THEY have sent me the sword that my brave boy
wore
On the field of his young renown, —
On the last red field, where his faith was sealed,
And the sun of his days went down.
Away with the tears
That are blinding me so !
There is joy in his years.
Though his young head be low :
And I'll gaze with a solemn delight, evermore,
On the sword that my brave boy wore.
'Twas for Freedom and Home that I gave him away,
Like the sons of his race of old ;
And though, aged and gray, I am childless this day,
He is dearer a thousand-fold.
There's glory above him
To hallow his name ;
A land that will love him
Who died for its fame ;
And a solace will shine, when my old heart is sore,
Round the sword that my brave boy wore.
408 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
3. All SO noble, so true, — how they stood, How they fell,
In the battle, the plague, and the cold !
Oh, as bravely and well as e'er story could tell
Of the flower of the heroes of old !
Like a sword tlirouo;h the foe
Was that fearful attack
That, so bright ere the blow,
Comes so bloodily back ;
And, foremost among them, his colors he bore ;
And here is the sword that my brave boy wore.
4. It was kind of his comrades, ye know not how kind ;
It is more than the Indies to me ;
Ye know not how kind and how steadfast of mind
The soldier to sorrow can be.
They know well how lonely,
How grievously wrung,
Is the heart that its only
Love loses so young ;
And they closed his dark eyes when the battle was o'er,
And sent his old father the sword that he wore.
LESSOISr CXXXL
"GOOD-BY, OLD ARM, GOOD-BY!'*
GEORGE COOPER.
The incident, so pathetically described in this short poem, took place in
one of our hospitals during the war. The piece should be read in a low
and plaintive tone of voice.
1. rpHE knife was still, — the surgeon bore
X The shattered arm away ;
Upon his bed, in painless sleep,
The noble hero lay ;
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 409
He woke, but saw the vacant place
Where limb of his liad Iain,
Then faintly spoke, — " Oh, let me see
My strong right arm again ! "
2. " Good-by, old arm ! '* the soldier said,
As he clasped the fingers cold ;
And down his pale but manly cheeks
The tear-drops gently rolled :
" My strong right arm, no deed of yours
Now gives me cause to sigh ;
But it's hard to part such trusty friends :
Good-by, old arm ! good-by !
3. " You've served me well these many yeare,
In sunlight and in shade ;
But, comrade, we have done with war, —
Let dreams of glory fade.
You'll never more my saber swing
In battle fierce and hot ;
You'll never bear another flag,
Or fire another shot.
4. I do not mourn to lose you now
For home and native land :
Oh, proud am I to give my mite
For freedom pure and grand !
Thank God ! no selfish thought is mine
While here I bleediuii He :
Bear, bear it tenderly away, —
Good-by, old arm ! good-by I "
18
410 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES.
' LESSON CXXXIX
' CiR CCM VAL la' TiON, {ciRCUM, around ; vallat, to wall, from xxTj-
LUM, rampart; ion, the act of,) the act of surrounding with a wall or
rampart.
THE TEACHER, THE HOPE OF AMERICA.
SAMUEL EELLS, 1837.
rriHE patriot wlio contemplates the vastness of this repub-
JL lie, and the diversified and conflicting interests of its
entire population, can not but regard its future welfare
with the deepest solicitude. Look abroad over this Coun-
try; mark her extent, her wealth, her fertility, her bound-
less resources, the giant energies which every day develops,
and which she seems already bending on that fatal race, —
tempting, yet always fatal to republics, — the race for
physical greatness and aggrandizement.
2. Behold, too, that continuous and mighty tide of popu-
lation, native and foreign, which is forever rushing through
the great valley toward the setting sun ; sweeping away
the wilderness before it like grass before the mower ; wak-
ing up industry and civilization in its progress ; studding
the solitary rivers of the TVest with marts and cities ; dot-
ting its boundless prairies with human habitations ; pene-
trating every green nook and vale ; climbing every fertile
ridge ; and still gathering and pouring onward, to form
new States in those vast and yet unpeopled solitudes
where the Oregon rolls his majestic flood, and
" Hears no sound saA'c his own dashing."
3. Mark all this, and then say by what bonds will yon
hold together so mighty a people and so immense an
empire ? What safeguard will you give us against the
dangers which must inevitably grow out of so vast and
UNION FIFTH READER. 411
complicate an organization ? In the swelling tide of our
prosperity, what a field will open for political corruption I
What a world of evil passions to control, and jarring in-
terests to- reconcile I What temptations will there be to
luxury and extravagance 1 What motives to private and
official cupidity ! What prizes will hang glittering at a
thousand goals, to dazzle and tempt ambition !
4. Do we expect to find our security against these dan-
gers in railroads and canals, in our circumvallations,^ and
ships of war ? Alas ! when shall we learn wisdom from
the lessons of history ? Our most dangerous enemies ivill
groio up from our oivn bosom. We may erect bulwarks
against foreign invasion ; but what power shall we find in
walls and armies to protect the people against themselves ?
There is but one sort of ''internal improvement" — more
thoroughly internal than that which is lauded by politicians
— that is able to save this country. I mean the improve-
ment of the minds and souls- of her jjeojjle,
5. If this improvement shall be neglected, and shall fail
to keep pace with the increase of our population and oui
physical advancement, one of two alternatives is certain :
either the nation must dissolve in anarchy, under the rulers
of its own choice; or, if held together at all, it must be by
a government so strong and rigorous as to be utterly incon-
sistent with constitutional liberty. Let the hundreds of
millions which, at no very distant day, will swarm in our
cities, and fill up our great interior, remain sunk in igno-
rance and vice, and nothing short of an iron despotism will
vSufRce to govern the nation, — to reconcile its vast and
conflicting interests, control its elements of agitation, and
hold back its fiery and headlong energies from dismember-
ment and ruin.
6. How, then, is this improvement to be effected ? Who
412 SANDEKS' UNION SEPJES.
are the agents of it ? Who are they who shall stand per-
petually as priests at the altar of Freedom, and feed its
sacred fires by dispensing that knowledge and cultivation
on which hangs our political salvation ? They are the
TEACHERS of our schools, the instructors in our academies
and colleges, arid in all those institutions, of whatever name,
which Jiave for their object the intellectual and moral cul-
ture of our youth, and the division of knowledge among
our people.
7. Theirs is the moral dignity of stamping the great
features of our national character, and, in the moral worth
and intelligence which they give it, of erecting a bulwark
which shall prove impregnable in that hour of trial, when
armies, and fleets, and fortifications shall be vain. And
when those mighty and all-absorbing questions shall be
heard, which are even now sending their bold demands
into the ear of rulers and lawgivers, which are momenta-
rily pressing forward to a solemn decision in the sight of
God and of all nations, and which, when the hour of their
decision shall come, will shake this country — the Union,
the Constitution — as with the shaking of an earthquake,
— it is they who, in that fearful hour, will gather around
the structure of our political organization, and, with up-
lifted hands, stay the reeling fabric till the storm and the
convulsion be overpast.
LESso:Nr cxxxiii.
TRUE GLOKY OF A NATION.
BISHOP WHIPPLE.
THE true glory of a nation is in an intelligent, honest,
industrious Christian people. The civilization of a
people depends on their individual character ; and a con-
CTNIOIT FIFTH READER. 413
stitution which is not the outgrowth of this character, is
not worth the parchment on which it is written. You look
in vain in the past for a single instance where the people
have preserved their liberties after their individual charac-
ter was lost.
2. It is not in the magnificence of its palaces, not in the
beautiful creations of art lavished on its pubhc edifices, not
in costly libraries and galleries of pictures, not in the
number or wealth of its cities, that we find pledges of a na-
tion's glory. The ruler may gather around him the treas-
ures of the world, amid a brutaHzed people ; the senate-
chamber may retain its faultless proportions long after the
voice of patriotism is hushed within its walls ; the monu-
mental marble may commemorate, a glory which has for-
ever departed. Art and letters may bring no lesson to a
people whose heart is dead.
3. The true glory of a nation is in the living temple of a
loyal^ industrious, and upright people. The busy click of
machinery, the merry ring of the anvil, the lowing of
peaceful herds, and the song of the harvest-home, are
sweeter music than paeans of departed glory, or songs of
triumph in war. The vine-clad cottage of the hillside,
the cabin of the woodsman, and the rural home of the
farmer, are the true citadels of any country. There is
a dignity in honest toil, which belongs not to the display
of wealth or the luxury of fashion. The man who drives
the plow, or swings his ax in the forest, or with cunning
fingers plies the tools of his craft, is as truly the servant of
his country as the statesman in tjie senate or the soldier
in battle.
4. The safety of a nation depends not alone on the wis-
dom of its statesmen or the bravery of its generals. The
tongue of eloquence never saved a nation tottering to its
414 SANDERS' CTNIOISr SERIES.
fall ; the sword of a warrior never stayed its destruction.
There is a surer defense in every Cliristian home. I know
of no right wrung from tyranny, no truth resciled from
darkness and bigotry, which has not waited on a Christian
civilization.
5. Would you see the image of true glory, I would show
you villages where the crown and glory of the people was
in Christian schools, where the voice of prayer goes heaven-
ward, where the people have that most priceless gift, —
faith m God» With this as the basis, and leavened as it
will be with brotherly love, there will be no danger in
grappling with any evils which exist in our midst : we
shall feel that we may work and bide our time, and die,
knowing that God will bring victory.
LESSON CXXXIY.
*Dead Sea Fruits, or Apples of Sodom, a fruit described' by ancient
writers as externally of fair appearance, but dissolving into smoke and
ashes when plucked. It resembles an orange in size and color, but ex-
plodes on being touched. It has a bitt6r taste.
THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
ANNE C. LYNCH.
1. rpHERE are countless fields, the green earth o'er,
X Where the verdant turf has been dyed with gore .
Where hostile ranks, in their grim array,
With the battle's smoke have obscured the day ;
Where hate was stamped on each rigid face,
As foe met foe in the death-embrace ;
UNION FIFTH READER. 415
Where the groans of the wounded and dying rose
Till the heart of the listener with horror froze ;
And the wide expanse of crimsoned plain
Was j)iled with heaps of uncounted slain :
But a fiercer combat^ a deadlier strife^
Is that which is waged in the Battle of Life.
The hero that wars on the tented field,
With his shining sword and his burnished shield,
Goes 7iot alone with his faithful brand, —
Friends and comrades around him stand ;
The trumpets sound, and the war-steeds neigh
To join in the shock of the coming fray ;
And he flies to the onset, he charges the foe.
Where the bayonets gleam and the red tides flow ;
And he beai*s his part in that conflict dire
With an arm all nerve and a heart all fire.
What though he fall ? At the battle's close,
In the flush of victory won, he goes
With martial music, and waving plume.
From a field of fame to a laureled tomb !
But the hero that wars in the Battle of Life
Must stand alone in the fearful strife, —
Alone in his weakness or strength must go.
Hero or coward, to meet the foe :
He may not fly ; on that fatal field
He must win or lose, he must conquer or yield.
Warrior, who com'st to this battle now
With a careless step and a thoughtless brow,
As if the day were already won.
Pause, and gird all thy armor on !
416 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Dost tilou brin. See note, page 108.
* Fry, Mrs. Elizabeth, whose maiden name Avas Gurney, was bom at
Earlham, England, in 1780, and died 1844. The benevolence of her
disposition early displayed itself by visiting the poor, and establishing
schools for the education of their children. Every day she was found
visiting charity-schools, in the houses and lanes of the poor, and in the
wards of sick-hospitals. She also extended her benevolent attentions
to the inmates of prisons and lunatic-asylums. She visited all the prin-
cipal jails in Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, Denmark, and Prus-
sia; and her last scheme of philanthropy was begun with a \icr\v to
benefit British seamen. Her death was lamented throughout Europe
as a loss to humanity.
TRUE REFORMERS.
HORACE GREELEY.
TO the rightly constituted mind, to the truly developed
man, there always is, there always must be, opportu-
nity, — opportunity to be and to learn, nobly to do and to
endure ; and what matter whether with pomp and eclat.,
with sound of trumpets and shout of applauding thousands,
or in silence and seclusion, beneath the calm, disceniinggaze
of Heaven ? No station can be humble on which that gaze
is approvingly bent ; no work can be ignoble which is per-
formed uprightly, and not impelled by sordid and selfish aims.
2. Not from among the children of monarchs, ushered
into being with boom of cannon, and shouts of reveling
millions, but from amid the sons of obscurity and toil,
cradled in peril and ignominy, from the bulrushes and the
manger, come forth the benefactors and saviors of man-
kind. So, when all the babble and glare of our age shall
have passed into a fitting oblivion ; when those who have
enjoyed rare opportunities, and swayed vast empires, and
heen borne through life on the shoulders of shouting mul-
titudes, shall have been laid at last to rest in golden coffins.
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 421
to molder forgotten, the stately marble their only monu-
ments, it will be found that some humble youth, who
neither inherited nor found, but hewed out his opportuni-
ties^ has uttered the thought which shall render the age
memorable, by extending the means of enlightenment and
blessing to our race.
3. The great struggle for human progress and elevation
proceeds noiselessly, often unnoted, often checked, and ap-
parently baffled, amid the clamorous and debasing strifes
impelled by greedy selfishness and low ambition. In that
struggle, maintained by the wise and good of all parties,
all creeds, all climes, bear ye the part of men. Heed the
lofty summons, and, with souls serene and constant, pre-
pare to tread boldly in the path of highest duty. So shall
life be to you truly exalted and heroic ; so shall death be a
transition neither sought nor dreaded ; so shall your mem-
ory, though cherished at first but by a few humble, loving
hearts, linger long and gratefully in human remembrance,
a watchword to the truthful, and an incitement to gener-
ous endeavor, freshened by the proud tears of admiring
affection, and fragrant with the odors of heaven ! . . .
4. We need a loftier ideal to nerve us for heroic lives.
To know and feel our nothingness, without regretting it ;
to deem fame, riches, personal happiness, but shadows, of
which human good is the substance ; to welcome pain,
privation, ignominy, so that the sphere of human knowl-
edge, the empire of virtue, be thereby extended, — such is
the soul's temper in which the heroes of the coming age
shall be cast. When the stately monuments of mightiest
conquerors shall have become shapeless and forgotten ruins,
the humble graves of earth's Howards^ and Frys^ shall still
be freshened by the tears of fondly admiring millions, and
the proudest epitaph shall be the simple entreaty, —
'* Write me as one who loved his fellow-men."
422 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
5. Say not that I thus condemn, and would annihilate,
ambition. The love of approbation, of esteem, of true
glory, is a noble incentive, and should be cherished to the
end. True fame demands no sacrifices of others ; it re-
quires us to be reckless of the outward well-being of but
one. It exacts no hecatomb of victims for each triumphal
pile ; for tlie more who covet and seek it, the easier and
more abundant is the success of each and all. With souls
of the celestial temper, each human life might be a triumph
which angels would lean from the skies, delighted to wit-
ness and admire.
LESSON CXXXYII.
*Fred'er ick it., King of Prussia, commonly called Frederick the Great,
was born Jan. 24, 1712, and began to reign 1740. He found himself
in possession of a full treasury and a powerful army, which he soon
employed in attacking Austria-, and conquering from her the province
of Silesia. The great struggle of the Seven- Years' War was begun in
1756. Prussia was now attacked by Austria, Russia, France, Saxony,
and Sweden ; and her destruction and dismemberment seemed inevita-
ble. England was her only ally. Prussia went through the struggle,
and came out triumphant. For this glorious result, she was indebted to
the moral courage, indomitable energy, and military genius, of her king
In 1772, Frederick disgraced himself, and permanently injured the cause
of Freedom throughout the world, by participating in the first dismem-
berment of Poland. Frederick died Aug. 17, 1786.
*MoNT E zu' MA, Emperor of Mexico at the time of the Spanish invasion.
UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITIONS.
THOMAS CORWIN.
MR. PRESIDENT, — The uneasy desire to augment
our territory has depraved tlie moral sense, and
blighted the otherwise keen sagacity, of our people. Sad,
very sad, are the lessons which Time has written for us.
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 423
Through and in them all, I see nothing but the inflexible
execution of that old law, which ordains, as eternal, the
cardinal rule, " Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods,
nor any thing which is his." Since I have lately heard so
much about the dismemberment of Mexico, I have looked
back to see how, in the course of events which some call
" Providence," it has fared with other nations who engaged
in this work of dismemberment.
2. I see that, in the latter half of the eighteenth cen-
tury, three powerful nations — Russia, Austria, and Prus-
sia — united in the dismemberment of Poland. They said,
too, as you say, — '^ It is our destiny." They *' wanted
room." Doubtless each of these thought, with his share
of Poland, his power was too strong ever to fear invasion,
or even insult. One had his California, another his New
Mexico, and the third his Vera Cruz.*
3. Did they remain untouched, and incapable of harm ?
Alas ! no ; far, very far, from it. Retributive justice must
fulfill its destiny too. A very few years pass off, and we
hear of a new man, a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named,
''armed soldier of Democracy," Napoleon. He ravages
Austria, covers her land with blood, drives the Northern
Caesar from his capital, and sleeps in his palace. Austria
may now remember how her power trampled upon Poland.
Did she not pay dear, very dear, for her California' ?
4. But has Prussia no atonement to make ? You see
this same Napoleon, the blind instrument of providence,
at work there. The thunders of his cannon at Jenaf pro-
claim the work of retribution for Poland's wron^rs ; and
the successors of the Great Frederick,^ the drill-serireant
of Europe, are seen flying across the sandy plains that sur-
* Pronounced Va' ra kroos. t Gen' a.
424 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
round their capital, right gjad if they may escape captivity
or death.
5. But how fares it with the Autocrat of Russia ? Is he
secure in his share of the spoils of Poland' ? No : sud-
denly we see six hundred thousand armed men marching
to Moscow. Does his Vera Cruz protect liim now' ? Far
from it. Blood, slaughter, devastation, spread abroad over
the land ; and, finally, the conflagration of the old com-
mercial metropolis of Russia closes the retribution : she
must pay for her share in the dismemberment of her im-
potent neighbor.
6. A mind more prone to look for the judgments of
Heaven in the doings of men than mine, can not fail, in all
unjust acquisitions of territory, to see the Providence of
God. When Moscow burned, it seemed as if the earth
was lighted up, that the nations might behold the scene.
As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved and rolled
upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the stars, and
fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the God of
nations was writing, in characters of flame, on the front
of His throne, that doom that* shall fall upon the strong
nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak.
7. And what fortune awaits him, the appointed executor
of this work, when it was all done ? He, too, conceived
the notion that his destiny pointed onward to universal
dominion. France was too small : Europe, he thought,
should bow down before him. But as soon as this idea
takes possession of his soul, he, too, becomes powerless.
Right there, while he witnessed- the humiliation, and
doubtless meditated the subjugation, of Russia, He who
holds the winds in His fist, gathered the snows of the
North, and blew them upon his six hundred thousand men.
They fled, — they froze, — they perished.
UNION FIFTH READER. 425
8. And now the miglity Napoleon, who had resolved on
universal dominion, he^ too, is summoned to answer for the
violation of that ancient law, " Thou shalt not covet any
thing which is thy neighbor's." " How are the miglity
fallen ! " He, beneath whose proud footstep Europe trem-
bled, is now an exile at Elba, and now, finally, a pris-
oner on the rock of St. Helena ; and there, on a barren
island, in an unfrequented sea, in the crater of an extin-
guished volcano, — there is the death-bed of the mighty
conqueror. All his annexations have come to that ! His
last hour has now come ; and he^ the man of destiny, he
who had rocked the world as with the throes of an earth-
quake, is now powerless, still, — even as the beggar, so he
died.
9. On the wings of a tempest that raged with unwonted
fury, up to the throne of the only Power that controlled
him while he lived, went the fiery soul of that wonderful
warrior, another witness to the existence of that eternal
decree, that they who do not rule in righteousness shall per-
ish from the earth. He has found *' room" at last. And
France — s7ie, too, has found "room." Her "eagles" now
no longer scream along the banks of the Danube, the
Po, and the Borys'thenes. They have returned home, to
their old aerie, between the Alps, the Khine, and the
Pyrenees.
10. So shall it be with yours. You may carry them
to the loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras ; they may wave,
with insolent triumph, in the halls of the Montezumas,'^ —
the armed men of Mexico may quail before them : but the
weakest hand in Mexico, uplifted in prayer to the God of
justice, may call down against you a Power, in the presence
of which the iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned
into ashes.
426 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON CXXXVIII.
VANITY OF EARTHLY TREASURES.
ANON.
1. "[/"NEEL not, O friend of mine ! before a shrine
JLV That bears the impress of humanity ;
Have thou no idol, lest those hopes of thine
Prove but false lights upon a treacherous sea.
Know'st thou that clouds freighted with storm and rain
Will overspread with darkest gloom again
Yon azure sky'?
Know'st thou that rose that blooms beside thy door
. Will waste upon the gale its^ fragrant store,
I And fade and die' ?
Know also that the loved and tried for years.
The cynosure of all thy hopes and fears,
May pass thee by.
2. Maiden ! upon whose fair, unclouded brow,
Half hid by many a curl of clustering hair,
I mark the buds of promise bursting now,
Unmingled with a thouglit of future care, — •
Thou for whose sake the bridal wreath is made.
For Avhom the rose, in spotless white arrayed.
Expands its leaf, —
Oh ! let me teach thee, as a sister may,
A lesson thou shouldst bear in mind alway, —
That life is brief;
That bridal flowers have decked the silent bier,
And smiles of joy been melted with the tear
Of burning grief.
UNION FIFTH EEADtlR. ^ 427
3 Mother ! who gazes with a mother's joy,
And all a mother's changeless love and pride,
Upon the noble forehead of thy boy,
Who stands in childish beauty by thy side,
And, gazing through the mists of coming time,
Beholds him standing in the verdant prime
Of manhood's day, —
I warn thee ! build no castles in the air :
That form, so full of life, so matchless fair,
Is only clay ;
That bud, just bursting to a perfect flower.
May, like the treasures of thy garden bower,
Soon pass away.
4. Father ! whose days, though in " the yellow leaf,"
Have golden tints from life's rich sunset thrown ;
Whose heart, a stranger to the pangs of grief, •
Still suns itself within the loves of home ;
Who, with thy dear companion by thy side.
Hast felt thy bark adown life's current glide
With peaceful breeze, —
Burn thou no incense here ! hast thou not seen
The forest change its summer robe of green
For leafless trees' ?
Believe me, all who breathe the vital breath
Are subjects to the laws of life and death ;
. And so are these.
5 Ah, yes ! beneath the church-yard's grassy mound
Too many an early-smitten idol lies,
Too many a star of promise has gone down
The soul's horizon, never more to rise.
428 ^ SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
For thou to safely rear thy temple here.
And fancy, while the storm-cloud hovers near.
It stands secure.
Oh ! trust it not ; that flash of brilliant light
Will only from the thorny path of night
Thy steps aUure ;
One Arm, that never fails, that never tires.
That moves in harmony the heavenly choirs,
Alone is sure.
6. Be this thy spirit's anchor, — that when all
Most near and dear to thee shall pass away,
When pride, and power, and human hope, shall fall,
A faith in God shall be thy shield and stiiy.
Lay up thy treasures where the hand of Time,
The storms and changes of this fickle clime,
Shall seek in vain ;
•Where the bright dreams of youth shall know no blight,
The days of love and joy no starless night,
And life no pain ;
And where thou yet shalt find, when cares are o'er.
The loved and lost ones who have gone before
Are thine again.
w
LESSON CXXXIX.
CHOICE EXTRACTS.
I.
THE WIDOW'S TWO MITES.
WEBSTER.
HAT more tender, more solemnly affecting, more
profoundly pathetic, than this charity, — this offer-
UNION FIFTH READER. 429
ing to God of a farthing I We know nothing of her
name, her family, or lier tribe. We only know that she
was a poor woman, and a widow, of whom there is nothing
left upon record but this sublimely simple story ; that,
when the rich men came to cast their proud offerings into
the treasury, this poor woman came also, and cast in her
two mites, which made a farthing.
2. And the example, thus made the subject of Divine
commendation, has been read, and told, and has gone
abroad everywhere, and sunk deep into a hundred million
of hearts, since the commencement of the Christian era,
and has done more good than could be accomplished by a
thousand marble palaces ; because it was charity mingled
with true benevolence^ given in the fear, the love, the ser-
vice, and the honor of God.
THE HONEY-BEE.
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.
430 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES.
III.
VIRTUE.
COLTON.
1. There are two things which speak as with a voice
from Hea^^ll, that He who fills the eternal throne must
be on the side of Virtue ; and that which He befriends
must finally prosper and prevail. The first is, that the
Bad are never completely happy and at ease, although
possessed of every thing that this world can bestow ; and
that the Good are never completely miserable, although
deprived of every thing this world can take away.
2. We are so framed and constituted, that the most
vicious can not but pay a secret though unwilling homage
to Virtue, inasmuch as the worst men can not bring them-
selves thoroughly to esteem a had man, although he may
be their dearest friend ; nor can they thoroughly despise a
good man, although he may be their bitter enemy. From
this inward esteem for Virtue, which the noblest cherish,
and which the basest can not expel, it follows that Virtue
is tlTe only bond of union on which we can thoroughly
depend.
IV.
HAPPINESS.
POPE.
O Happiness I our being's end and aim, —
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content, — whate'er thy name ;
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh ;
For which we bear to live, or dare to die ;
Which still so near us, yet beyond us, lies,
O'erlooked, seen double, by the fool and wise, —
UNION FIFTH READER. 431
Plant of celestial seed ! if dropped below,
Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ?
Know, all the good that individuals find,
Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words, — Health, Peace, and Competence:
But Health consists with Temperance alone ;
And Peace, O Virtue ! Peace is all thy own.
V.
ADVANCE OF SCIENCE.
1. Bacon's prophecies of the advance of Science have
been fulfilled far beyond what even he could have antici-
patea. For Knowledge partakes of Infinity. It widens
with our capacities ; the higher we mount in it, the vaster
and more magnificent are the prospects it stretches out
before us. Nor are we in these days, as men are ever apt
to imagine of their own times, approaching to the end of
them ; nor shall we be nearer the end a thousand years
hence than we are now.
2. The family of Sciences has multiplied : new sciences,
hitherto minamed, unthonght of, have arisen. The seed
which Bacon sowed sprang up, and grew to be a mighty
tree ; and the thoughts of thousands of men came and
lodged in its branches ; and those branches spread '' so
broad and long, that in the ground the bended twigs took
root, and daughters grew about the mother-tree, a pillared
shade high overarched, and echoing walks between," —
walks where Poetry may wander, and wreathe her blossoms
around the massy stems ; and where Rejigion may hymn
the praises of that Wisdom of which Science erects tlie
hundred-aisled Temple.
432 SANDEllS' UNION SERIES.
VI.
THE STRUGGLE OF LIFE.
Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temj)le shines afar ?
Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war?
Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar.
In Life's low vale remote has pined alone.
Then dropped into the grave, unpitied and unknown I
VII.
ANTIQUITY.
COLTON.
It has been observed, that a dwarf standing on the
shoulders of a giant will see farther than the giant him-
self; and the moderns, standing as they do on the vantage-
ground of former discoveries, and uniting all the fruits of
the experience of their forefathers with their own actual
observation, may be admitted to enjoy a more enlarged
and comprehensive view of things than the ancients them-
selves ; for that alone is true antiquity which embraces the
antiquity of the world, and not that which would refer us
back to a period when the world was young. But by whom
is true antiquity enjoyed ? Not by the ancients who did
live in the infancy, but by the moderns who do live in the
maturity of things.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 433
VIII.
BEAUTY.
SHAKSPKARE.
1. Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A shining glass that fadeth suddenly,
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud^
A brittle glass that's broken presently ;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead, wdthin an hour.
2. And as good lost is seld or never found,
As fading gloss no rubbing will refresh.
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So Beauty, blemished once, forever's lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
IX.
CUNNING AND DISCRETION.
ADDISON.
1. Cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at
nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has
large and extended views, and, like a well-formed eye,
commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of short-
sightedness, that discovere the minutest objects which are
near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a dis-
tance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a
greater authority to the person who possesses it. Discre-
tion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all
the duties of life.
2. Cunning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out
after our immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is
only found in men of strong sense and good understand-
u
434 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
ings. Cunning is often to be met with in Lrntes them-
selves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from
them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion,
and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vi-
vacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.
X.
PROCRASTINATION.
PERSIUS.
Cor. Unhappy he who does his work adjourn,
And to to-morrow would the search delay :
His lazy morrow will be like to-day.
PerB. But is one day of ease too much to borrow' T
Cor. Yes, sure ; for yesterday was once to-morrow ;
That yesterday is gone, and nothing gained :
And all thy fruitless days will tluis be drained ;
For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask.
And wilt be ever to begin thy task ;
Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, art cursed
Still to be near, but ne'er to reach, the first.
LESSON CXL.
Pan' TO MIME, an actor who expresses his meaning by mute action, or
gesticulation only, without speaking; a dumb show.' It here means a
silent exhibition of Nature.
ALL NATURE SPEAKS OF A SPIRIT-WORLD.
1. TTEARD ye the whisper of the breeze,
(j[?.) xJL As soft it murmured by,
A mid the shadowy forest-trees' ?
It tells, with meaning sigh.
Of the bowers of bliss on that viewless shore,
Where the weaiy spirit sliall sin no more ;
.UNION FIFTH READER. 435
2. While sweet and low in crystal streams
That glitter in the shade,
The music of an angel's dreams
On bubbling keys are played ;
And their echoes breathe, with a mystic tone,
Of that home where the loved and the lost are gone.
3. And when, at evening's silent hour,
We stand on the ocean's shore,
And feel the soul-subduing power
Of its mysterious roar,
Tliere's a deep voice comes from its pearly caves,
Of that land of peace which no ocean laves.
4. And while the shadowy vale of night
Sleeps on the mountain-side.
And brilliants of imfathomed hVlit
Begem the concave wide.
There's a spell, a power, of harmonious love,
That is beckoning mute to the realms above.
5. And Earth, in all her temples wild
Of mountain, rock, and dell.
Speaks with maternal accents mild,
Our doubting fears to quell,
Of another shore, and a brighter sphere,
Where we haste on the wings of each flying year.
6. On Nature's bright and pictured scroll,
A speaking language see :
A pantomime^ the seasons roll,
Of glorious imagery.
That reveal a life in this fading clay.
That shall wake again to a brighter day.
436 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON CXLI.
"HOW MANIFOLD ARE THY WORKS I'
MISS A. ARNOLD.
1. A THOU, in whose almighty hand
yj The earth's foundations firmly stand,
And heavino; oceans rise and fall !
Thee, the Creator, man shall fear,
So manifold Thy works appear !
In wisdom hast Thou made them all.
2. The heavens are Thine — stars speak Thy praise,
Point with a thousand trembling rays
The pathway where Thy feet have trod I
They roll along the deep blue arch,
And seem in their eternal march
The glittering armies of our God I
♦.
3. How grand the ever-drifting clouds !
How beautiful those snowy shrouds
That float aloncr 'twixt earth and heaven I
And yet how fearful in their wrath.
When lurid lightnings mark their path.
And they by tempest- winds are driven I
4. But when Thy hand hath hushed the storm,
And thrown the sunbeams, bright and warm.
Upon the tearful earth again.
How like an emblem of Thy love
The bright-hued rainbow bends above,
And spans the misty vail of rain !
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 437
LESSON CXLII.
* Bear, one of two constellations in the northern hemisphere, called re-
spectively the Greater and Lesser Bear, -or Ursa Major and Ursa
Minor.
* O Ri' ON, a large and bright constellation, crossed by the equinoctial line.
TIMES AND SEASONS.
L. H. GRINDOX.
WHILE, to the poet and thoughtful man, the changes
of times and seasons are in the highest degree
beautiful and suggestive, even to the most indifferent and
selfish they are surrounded with an agreeable interest.
None view their progress without regard, however little
they may be attracted by their sweet pictures and phe-
nomena, or moved by the amenities and wisdom of their
ministry. This is because the changes incidental to Nat-
ure are, on the one hand, a kind of counterpart or image
of the occurrences and vicissitudes of human hfe ; and on
the other, the circumstances by which its business and
pleasures are, in large measure, suggested and controlled.
2. The consummation of the old year, and the opening
of the new, brings with it, accordingly, a fine significance,
and a pleasurable importance. So, in their degree, the
transitions of winter into spring, of spring into summer,
of summer into autumn ; and so, in their degree, the
alternations of day and night. The longer the interval,
the more interesting is the change.
3. The close of the gear occupies the foremost place in
this universal interest, from its completing a well-defined
and comprehensive cycle of natural mutations. It is by
this circumstance rendered an appropriate gpoch for the
measurement of life and being ; and hence there fasten on
438 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
it peculiar momentousness and solemnity, which remain
inseparably attached, though the season be unknown or
forgotten. Days and nights follow too rajndly to serve such
a purpose.
4. Only as the result of these mutations does the year
exist. Were there no primroses to die with the spring, no
lilies to vanish with the summer, Avere there no sequences
of the leaf and flower, sunshine and starlight, there would
even be no time. For time, like space, pertains but to
the material circumference of creation, that is, to the A-isi-
ble half of the universe, and is only appreciable through
its medium. It is by objective nature alone that the ideas
both of time and space are furnished ; and they are sus-
tained in us only so long as we are in contact with it.
5. The movements of the heavenly bodies contribute
the most exact and obvious data, because expressly given
" for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years." *
But the heavens are not our only timepiece. Another is
spread over the surface of the earth in its living products.
The phenomena connected with plants, and the habits of
the lower animals, constitute in themselves a complete. sys-
tem of chronometry ; indicating not merely seasons, but
even days and hours.
6. In the times of the leafing of the trees, the blooming
of flowers, the ripening of fruits, the appearance of insects,
the singing and nest-building of birds, the departure and
return of the migratory kinds, and of every other incident
of unmolested Nature, there is nothing chanceful or uncer-
tain. Every event transpires at a fixed point in the series
of changes to which it belongs.
7. Celestial and atmospheric phenomena, if they have
* Genesis, 1st chap., 14tli verse.
UNION FIFTH READER. 439
fewer of the charms of variety, in their splendors compen-
sate it tenfold. How beautiful to note the phases of the
moon, the chameleon-tinting of the sky, the traveling of
the planets, and the circling round the pole of the seven
bright stars of the sleepless Bear^ ! With what gladness,
and enthusiasm too, in the cold, inanimate winter, we view
the rising Orion,^ and his brilliant quarter of the heavens !
The cheerlessness of the earth is forgotten in the mag-
nificence overhead, and we thank God for unfolding such
glory.
8. Ev^ery event, moreover, having its own poetical rela-
tions, at once refreshes the heart, and places before the
mind some elegant item in the innumerable harmonies of
the universe. In the perpetual sparkle of the Bear is pre-
sented an image of the ever- wakeful eye of Providence ;
and in the alternate waxing and waning of the moon, a
beautiful picture of the oscillations in man's fortune.
9. The regularity with which the phenomena of Nature
recur, and their determinate and unvarying character,
are expressed in many names. * Spring is literally the
season of growth ; the summer, that of sunshine ; autumn,
that of increase or fertility ; winter, that of the " windy
storm and tempest." Times, years, seasons, accordingly,
are not to be esteemed a part of creation, but simply an
accident, or result of it.
10. Our personal experiences concur with Nature in
testifying this ; for to no two men has time the same dura-
tion, nor does any individual reckon it always by the same
dial. To the slothful, time has the feet of a snail ; to the
diligent, the wings of an eagle. Impatience lengthens, en-
joyment shortens it. The unhappi/ and desolate see noth-
ing but weary tedium : with the cheerful, it glides like a
stream.
440 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSON CXLIII.
EARTH, AIR, AND SEA.
MAURY.
THE mean annual fall of rain on the entire surface of
the earth is estimated at about five feet. To evaporate
water enough annually from the ocean to cover the earth,
on the average, five feet deep with rain ; to transport it
from one zone to another, and to precipitate it in the right
places, at suitable times, and in the proportions due, — is
one of the offices of the grand atmospherical machine. All
this evaporation, however, does not take place from the
sea ; for the water that falls on the land is re-evaporated
from the land afystin and again.
2. But, in the first instance, it is evaporated principally
from the torrid zone. Supposing it all to be evaporated
thence, we shall have, encircling the earth, a belt of ocean
three thousand miles in breadth, from which this atmos-
phere raises a layer of water annually sixteen feet in
depth. And to raise as high as the clouds, and lower
down again, all the water in a lake sixteen feet deep, and
three thousand miles broad, and twenty-four thousand
long, is the yearly business of this invisible machinery.
What a powerful engine is the atmosphere ! and how
nicely adjusted must be all the cogs, and wheels, and
springs, and compensations of this exquisite piece of ma-
chinery, that it never wears out nor breaks down, nor fails
to do its work at the right time and in the right way !
3. We now begin to perceive why it is that the propor-
tions between the land and water were made ^s we find
them in Nature. If there had been more water, and less
land, we should have had more rain, and vice versa ; * and
* The terms being exchanged.
UNION FIFTH READER. 441
then climates would have been different from what they
are now, and the inhabitants, animals, and vegetables
would not have been as they are. But that wise Being,
who in His kind providence so watches over and regards
the things of this world that He takes note of the spar-
row's fall and numbers the very hairs of our head, doubts
less designed them to be as they are.
4. The mind is delighted, and the imagination charmed,
by contemplating the physical arrangements of the earth
from such points of view as this which we now have before
us. From it the sea, and the air, and the land, appear
each as a part of that grand machinery upon which the
well-being of all the inhabitants of earth, sea, and air, de-
pends ; and which, in its beautiful adaptations, affords new
and striking evidence that they all liave their origin in one
omniscient idea^ just as the different parts of a watch may
be considered to have been constructed and arranged ac-
cordino; to one human desio-n.
5. Whenever we turn to contemplate the works of Na-
ture, we are stinick with the admirable system of compen-
sation^ — with the beauty and nicety with which every
department is adjusted, adapted, and regulated according
to the others. Things and principles are meted out in di-
rections apparently the most opposite, but in proportions so
exactly balanced, that results the most harmonious are pro-
duced. It is by the action of opposite and compensating
forces that the earth is kept in its orbit, and the stars are
held suspended in the azure vault of heaven ; and these
forces are so exquisitely adjusted, that, at the end of a
thousand years, the earth, the sun, and moon, and every
star in the firmament, is found to come and twinkle in its
proper place at the proper moment !
6. Therefore, in considering the general laws which gov-
442 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
ern the physical agents of the universe, and which regulate
them in the due performance of their offices, it is evident,
that if the atmosphere had had a greater or less capacity
for moisture, or if the proportion of land and water had
been different, — if tlie earth, air, and water had not been
in exact counterpoise, — the whole arrangement of the ani-
mal and vegetable kingdoms would have varied from their
present state. But God, for reasons which man may never
know, chose to make those kingdoms what they are. For
this purpose^ it was necessary, in His judgment, to establish
the proportions between the land, and the water, and the
desert, just as they are ; and to make the capacity of the
air to circulate heat and moisture just what it is, and to
liav^e it to do all its work in obedience to law, and in sub-
servience to order.
7. If it were not so, why was power given to the winds
to lift up and transport moisture, and to feed the plants
with nourishment ? or why was the property given to the
sea, by which its waters may become first vapor, and then
fruitful showers or gentle dews? If the proportions and
properties of land, sea, and air, were not adjusted according
to the reciprocal capacities of all to perform the functions
required of each, why should we be told that He " meas-
ured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and meted out
the heavens with a span, and comprehended the dust of
the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in
scales, and the hills in a balance " ? * Why did He span
the heavens, but that He might mete out the atmosphere
in exact proportion to all the rest, and impart to it those
properties and powders which it was necessary for it to
liave, in order that it might perform all those offices and
duties for which He desio^ned it?
* Is., 40th chap., 12th verse.
UNION FIFTH READER. 443
8. Harmonious in their action, the air and sea are obe-
dient to law, and subject to order in all their movements.
When we consult them in the performance of their mani-
fold and marvelous offices, they teach us lessons concern-
ing the wonders of the deep, the mysteries of the sky, and
the greatness, wisdom, and goodness of .the Creator. The
investigations into the broad-spreading circle of phenomena
connected with the winds of heaven, and the waves of the
sea, are second to none for the good which they do, and
for the lessons which they teach. The astronomer is said
to see the hand of God in the sky ; but does not the right-
minded mariner, who looks aloft as he ponders over these
things, hear His voice in every wave of the sea that " claps
its hands," and feel His presence in every breeze that
blows' ?
LESSON CXLIV.
^ Ge' ni I, good or evil spirits, supposed by the ancients to preside over
man's destiny in life.
THE CLOUD.
SHELLEY.
1. T BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
X From the seas and the streams ;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams ;
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one.
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast.
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashino- hail.
And whiten the green plains under ;
And then again I dissolve it in rain.
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
444 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES.
2. I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast ;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers,
Lightning, my pilot, sits ; >
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, — '
It struggles and howls by fits ;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion.
This pilot is guiding me.
Lured by the love of the genii ^ that move
In the depths of the purple sea ;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills.
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream.
The spirit he loves remains ;
And I, all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving: in rains.
3. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack.
When the morning-star shines dead.
As on the jag of a mountain-crag.
Which an earthquake rocks and swings.
An eagle, alit, one moment may sit.
In the light of its golden wings.
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardors of rest and love.
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of heaven above.
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,
As still as a brooding dove.
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 445
4. That orb^d Maiden, with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn ;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her, and peer !
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee.
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high.
Are each paved with the moon and these.
5. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone.
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim.
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape.
Over a torrent of sea.
Sun-beam proof, I hang like a roof,
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair^
Is the million-colored bow ;
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove.
While the moist earth was laughing below.
6. I am the daughter of earth and water.
And the nursling of the sky ;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ',
I change, but I can not die.
446 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
For after the rain, when, with never a stain,
The pavihon of heaven is bare.
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams.
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph.
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a sprite from the gloom, like a ghost from the tomb,
I rise and upbuild it again.
LESSON CXLY.
^ A crop' o lis, the upper or higher part of a Grecian city ; hence the cita-
del or castle, and especially the citadel of Athens.
EULOGY ON DANIEL WEBSTER*
LEWIS GAYLORD CLAKK.
THE voice of national eulogy and sorrow unite to tell us,
Daniel Webster is numbered with the dead. Seldom
has mortality seen a sublimer close of an illustrious career.
No American, since Washington, has, to so great an ex-
tent, occupied the thoughts, and molded the minds, of
men. The past may hold back its tribute, and the present
give no light ; but the future will show, in colors of living
truth, the honor which is justly due him as the political
prophet, and great intellectual light of the New World.
His life-time labors have been to defend the Constitution,
to preserve the Union, to honor the great men of the Revo-
lution, to vindicate international law, to develop the re-
sources of the country, and transmit the blessings of good
* Daniel Webster died at Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24, 1852, in the seventy-
first year of his age.
UNION FIFTH READER. 447
government to all who should thereafter walk on Ameri-
can soil.
2. Death has thrown a deep and somber pall over the
land. Tearful is Columbia's eye, and desolate is her heart.
Her temple is shrouded in gloom ; its aisles are thronged
with mourners ; its columns are wreathed with cypress.
The muffled bell is but the echo of the muffled heart.
Elegy has stifled encomium ; panegyric has yielded to sor-
row ; grief has become the most befitting eulogy. It is
right that mourning should shroud the land. A star of
magnitude and luster has left the horizon, and gone down
to the realms of death.
3. Wherever on earth patriotism commands regard, and
eloquence leads captive the soul, it will be seen and felt that
a truly great man has been called away, and left a void
which none can fill. New Hampshire has lost her noblest
column. She has no more such granite left. Massachu-
setts will not soon cease weeping for her adoj)ted son.
Plymouth Rock, Faneuil Hall, and Bunker Hill, will
forever speak of him whose eloquence has made them hal-
lowed spots in the remembrance of mankind.
4. Daniel Webster was great in all the elements of his
character. Great in original mental strength ; great in
varied and vast acquirements ; great in quick and keen
perception ; great in subtle, logical discrimination ; great
in force of thought ; great in power of intense and rigid
analysis ; great in rare and beautiful combination of tal-
ent ; great in ability to make an effort, and command his
power; great in range and acuteness of vision, — he could
see like a prophet. Hence his decision of character ; his
bold, manly, and independent thought ; his Avhole sover-
eignty of mind. No man, probably, ever lived, who could
calculate with such mathematical certainty the separate
448 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
effect of human actions, or tlie intricate, combined, and
complicated influence of every movement, social, political,
or personal. He could define and determine the very
destiny of influence.
5. This is the key to the problem of his greatness, an
explanation to the miracle of his power. We are proud
of his greatness, because it is American, — wholly Ameri-
can. The very impulses of his heart were American.
The spirit of American institutions had infused itself into
his life ; had become a part of his being. He was proud
of his country ; proud of her commerce ; proud of her
manufactures ; proud of her agriculture ; proud of her in-
stitutions of art and science ; and proud of her wealth,
her resources, and her labor. And all, in turn, were
proud of him. His patriotism was not bounded by the
narrow limits of sectional interest ; not hemmed in by
State lines, nor regulated and biased by local policies.
It was as broad as his country. He knew a North and a
South, an East and a West ; but he knew them only as
one, — "one and inseparable."
6. As a Diplo'matist, the world has never seen his
equal. He wielded the pen of the nation with a power, a
dignity, and a grandeur, wholly unparalleled in the annals
of diplomacy. When clouds and darkness gloomed the
heavens ; when the storm had gathered, ready to burst in
fury ; when the whole Republic every moment feared the
mighty convulsive shock which should mar and shatter
the fabric of their hopes, — then, standing on the summit
of the trembling Acropolis^ the Angel of Deliverance, he
threw his burning chain over the cloud, and drew the
lightning in safety from the heavens !
7. But it is as Senator, in that grand forum of the
nation's congregated wisdom, power, and eloquence, we
UNION FIFTH READER. 449
see liim towering in all the majesty and supremacy of his
greatness, — the mighty bulwark of the nation's hope, the
august arbiter of the nation's destiny. How grand ! how
sublime ! how imperial ! how god-like ! It was here that
he occupied the uncontested throne of human greatness ;
exhibited himself to the world in all his grand and magnifi-
cent proportions ; wore a crown studded with gems that
an emperor might covet ; won an immortality of envied
honor ; and covered himself with a glory, brighter, and
purer, and higher than a conqueror has ever been per-
mitted to achieve.
8. Eloquence was his panoply, — his very stepping-stone
to fame. She twined upon his brow a wreath which antiq-
uity might covet, inspired his soul with a divinity which
shaped his lofty destiny, and threw a light upon his track
of glory which no fortune could obscure. She bore him
up to the Pisgah* of renown, where he sat solitary and
alone, — the monarch of a realm whose conqueror wears
no bloody laurels, whose fair domain no carnage can de-
spoil, and in whose bright crown no pillaged pearls are
set.
9. As a forensic Orator, I know of no age, past or
present, which can boast his superior. He united the
boldness and energy of the Grecian, and the grandeur and
strength of the Roman, to an original, sublime simplicity,
which neither Grecian nor Roman possessed. He did not
deal in idle declamation and lofty expression ; his ideas
were not embalmed in rhetorical embellishments, nor
buried up in the superfluous tinselry of metaphor and
trope. He clothed them for the occasion ; and, if the
crisis demanded, they stood forth naked, in all their native
majesty, armed with a power which would not bend to the
* See Deut., 3d chap., 27th verse.
450 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
passion, but only stooped to conquer the reason. Sublime,
indeed, it was to see that giant mind, when roused in all its
grandeur, sweep over the fields of reason and imagination,
bearing down all opposition, as with the steady and resist-
less power of the ocean billows, — to see the eye, the brow,
the gesture, the whole man^ speaking with an utterance too
sublime for language, a logic too lofty for speech.
10. He needs no marble column or sculptured urn to
perpetuate his memory, or tell his worth to rising genera-
tions. His fame shall outlive marble ; for when time shall
efface every letter from the crumbling stone, yea, when
the marble itself shall dissolve to dust, his memory shall
be more deeply incased in the hearts of unborn millions,
and from his tomb shall arise a sacred incense which shall
garnish the concave of his native sky with the brightest
galaxy of posthumous fame ; and on its broad arch of stud-
ded macrnificence shall be braided, in " characters of liv-
ing light," Daniel Webster, the great Defender ^op
THE Constitution.
11. Trite and insipid would it be in me to trace anew
that mighty genius through his wonderful career. There
are his acts, — noble, lofty, god-like ! They are their own
historians. There are his thoughts, — high, heroic, and
sublime. They stand alone, unequaled, unalloyed, imper-
ishable. They are the world's legacy. His fame has
taken the pinions of ubiquity ; it is already inchased deep
in the hearts of grateful millions, "and there it wiix
REMAIN F0REVP:R."
12. The nation mourns, and well it may. He has lefl
a void which none can fill. Laid forever at rest in the
humble grave, by the side of the sea, the wild waves sing
his requiem. With Mount Vernon and Ashland,* his
The residence of Henry Clay, and where he was buried.
UNION FIFTH READER. 451
tomb will be a place where men in all coming time will
resort, to bring away memorials from the sanctuary of the
mighty dead. Patriotism, when it desponds, will go there,
look, and live ; factional strife and sectional jealousy will
feel rebuked when they visit the last resting-place of him
whose labors jf a life-time were to transmit tlie blessings of
life and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, which God
ordained should first be made manifest in America.
13. The beams of the setting sun will fall with a mel-
lowed light on the spot where the majestic form of Webster
molders back to dust, and where the anthem of the Puri-
tan was heard as he came to build an altar to his God, and
find a quiet tomb. May the worshiper of after-years ap-
proach that hallowed shrine with no empty offering of idle
curiosity, no vain and soulless orison ; but with grateful
and devout homage may the pilgrim of another age jour-
ney with reverent adoration to that consecrated spot, and,
arched upon its humble tablet, read, in that simple but
significant epitapli, " I still live ! " * — the high, pro-
plietic record of the last and sublimest victory of his life —
that of the unblenching spirit over death.
14. The sun that illumined that planet of clay
Had sunk in the west of an unclouded day ;
And tlie cold dews of death stood like diamonds of
light.
Thickly set in the pale, dusky forehead of Night :
From each gleamed a ray of that fetterless soul,
Wliich had bursted its prison, despising control,
And, careering above, o'er earth's darkness and
gloom.
Inscribed, ' I still live,' on the arch of the tomb/
* Last words of Daniel Webster.
452 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
15. The gleam of that promise shall brighten the page
Of the prophet and statesman through each rolling
age.
He lives ! prince and peasant shall join the acclaim i
No fortune can make him the martyr of Fame.
He lives ! from the grave of the patriot Greek
Comes the voice of the dead, which, though silent.
shall speak ;
Light leaps from the cloud which has deepened the
gloom,
And flashes its glance on the arch of his tomb I
16. He lives, ever lives, in the hearts of the free ;
The wing of his fame spreads across the broad sea ;
He lives where the banner of Freedom's unfurled ;
The pride of New England, — the wealth of the
world !
Thou land of the pilgrim ! how hallowed the bed
Where thy patriot sleeps, and thy heroes have bled !
Let age after age in perennial bloom
Braid the light of thy stars on the arch
of his tomb.''
LESSON CXLYL
SCENERY OF PALESTINE.
REV. J. P. NEWMAN.
SPRING is the most deliglitful season of the year in the
Holy Land, whether to enjoy the pleasures of the cli-
mate, or to behold the magnificence of the scenery. Then
the skies are bright, the air balmy, and the vernal sun
lights up the landscape with a thousand forms of beauty.
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 453
Then sparkling fountains are unsealed, silver brooks go
murmuring by, and wild cascades, leaping from their rocky
higlits, come dashing down the mountain-side, scattering in
their descent wreaths of rainbow spray.
2. Then the valleys and the hills are clothed with verd-
ure, the fields are green with grains and grasses, the fig
and palm trees are in blossom, the almond, apricot, olive,
and pomegranate are ripening, and the cypress, tamarisk,
oak, walnut, sycamore, and poplar are decked with the
clean, fresh foliage of a new year. The herds of camels
and buffaloes are grazing on the meadows, the flocks of
sheep and goats go gamboling up the mountain-sides.
Then, in all the glens, on all the vast prairie-plains, and
over all the highest mountains, are flowers blooming, —
anemones, oleanders, amaranths, arbutuses, poppies, holly-
hocks, daisies, hyacinths, tulips, pinks, lilies, and roses, —
growing in unbounded profusion, delighting the senses, and
transforming the land Into a garden of flowers.
3. But whatever is beautiful in the scenery of Palestine
is peculiar to the north. In the south there is a sameness
of outline and of color that wearies the eye, and makes
one sigh for variety: but, north of the mountains of
Ephraim, the beholder is charmed with green plains and
fertile valleys, with wooded dells and graceful hills, with
rippling brooks and sylvan lakes, with leaping cascades
and rushing rivers, with sublime chasms and profound
ravines ; and with .lofty mountains, broken into beetling
elifls and craggy peaks, whose higher summits - are capped
with perpetual snows, and down whose furrowed sides rush
a thousand torrents.
4. If the standard of landscape-beauty be the regular
alternation of plain and mountain, as In Greece and Italy;
the clean meadows, the well-made farms, and green hills,
454- SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
as in France and England ; or the continent-like prairies,
the miniature seas, and multiform mountains of America, —
then the Land of Promise must yield the palm to those
more highly-favored countries. But, if the combination of
all these characteristics on a smaller scale constitutes the
beautiful and grand in natural scenery, Palestine is not
unworthily praised by the sacred writers for the variety
and magriificence of its landscape.
5. Viewed from such a stand-point, the Holy Land is
a world in miniature, possessing the three great terrene
features of the globe, — sea-board, plain, and mountain.
Selected by Providence to be the medium of divine truth
to men of all lands, it was necessary that the national
home of the Bible-writers should open to their imagina-
tions the most wonderful and varied of the works of the
Creator.
6. Naturally inclined to express our admiration of the
Deity in allusions to His w^isdom and goodness displayed in
Nature, we experience a unison of devotion with those
who were the oracles of inspired truth to us in their sub-
lime illustrations, drawn from the sea and land, the valleys
and hills, the climate and fruits, and the beasts and birds,
of the country that gave them birth. Had they dwelt at
the poles, or on the equator, or in the heart of Arabia, or
on the banks of the Nile, they could not have given the
same universality of expression to the message they were
sent to announce. It is evidence of the presence of that
all-wise Spirit, that the prophets and psalmists, the Savior
and the apostles, drew their simplest, noblest figures from
Nature, such as can not fail to arrest the attention of the
untutored mind in every . land, and inspire intellects of
the highest culture with admiration.
7. Who among all the maritime nations of the earth can
TTNION FIFTH READER. ^ 455
fail to appreciate the Psalmist's description of his native sea,
as from its shores, or from some mountain-top, he beheld its
wonders ? — " O Lord, how manifold are Thy works ! in
wisdom hast Thou made them all ; the earth is full of Thy
riches : so is this great and wide sea, wherein are things
creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts." *
And who that has ever crossed the ocean, or witnessed a
storm at sea, does not realize the perfection of his descrip-
tion ? — *' They that go down to the sea in ships, that do
business in great waters ; these see the works of the Lord,
and His wonders in the deep ; for He commandeth, and
raiseth the stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof:
tliey mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the
depths ; their soul is melted because of trouble ; they reel
to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at
their wits' ends." f
8. The mountaineer feels that the Psalmist uttered
" What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed,"
when he describes, — '' The high hills are a refuire for the
wild goats, and the rocks for the conies." J The dweller
at the poles is conscious of a fellow-feeling when he reads
these sublime words, — " He giveth snow like wool ; He
scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes ; He casteth forth his
ice like morsels: who can stand before His cold?"§ The
nomad of the desert finds his own country portrayed in
the graphic allusions to a " dry and thirsty land where no
water is," to the " shadow of a great rock in a weary
land ; " and feels himself kindred to the patriarchs in his
predatory life.
9. They that dwell upon the equator comprehend that
grand and terrific passage descriptive of the earthquake
* Ps. civ. 24, 25. 1 Ps. cvii. 23-27. t Ps. civ. 18. § Ps. cxlvii. 16, 17.
456 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
and volcano: — ''He looketli on the earth, and it trem-
bleth ; He toucheth the hills, and they smoke." * And to
the denizens of all lands are familiar those impressive ref-
erences to the sun, moon, and stars, — to the "thunder
of his power;" to the "lightnings that lighten the world;"
to the storm of hail and rain ; to the shepherd on the
mountain ; to the husbandman in the field ; and to the
merchant in the marts of commerce.
LESSON^ CXLYII.
* Lost Ple' iad, one of the Pleiades, or seven small stars situated in ttie
neck of the constellation Taurus. Only six of these stars are visible
to the naked eye; and the ancients supposed that the seventh concealed
herself, out of shame for having bestowed her love upon a mere mor-
tal, Sisyphus, while her sisters were the favorites of divine personages.
• Sa' mi el-breatii, a hot and destructive wind that sometimes blows, in
Arabia and the adjacent countries, from the desert ; the simoom.
BIRTH-DAY REFLECTIONS.
GEORGE D. PRENTICE.
1. Another year
Has parted, and its knell is sounding now
O'er the Past's silent ocean. Ah, it is
An hour for tears ! There is a specter-form
In memory's voiceless chambers, pointing now
Its dim, cold finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have passed away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That specter lifts
The coffin-lid of dear, remembered Love,
And, bending mournfully above the pale,
* Ps. civ. 32.
UNION FIFTH READER. 45?
Sweet form that slumbers there, scatters dead flowers
O'er wliat is gone forever.
2. I am not
As in the years of boyhood. There were hours
Of joyousness that came Hke angel-shapes
Upon my heart ; but they are altered now,
And rise on memory's view Hke statues pale
By a dim fount of tears. And there were springs,
Upon whose stream the sweet young blossoms leaned
To list the gush of music ; but their depths
Are turned to dust. There, too, were holy lights,
That shone, sweet rainbows of the spirit, o'er
The skies of new existence ; but their gleams,
Like the lost Pleiad^ of the olden time.
Have faded from my vision, and are lost
'Mid the cold mockeries of earth.
3. Alone! —
I am alone ! The guardians of my young
And sinless years have gone, and left me here
A solitary wanderer. Their low tones
Of love oft swell upon the evening winds,
Or wander sweetly down through falling dews
At midnight's still and melancholy hour ;
But voice alone is there. Ages of thought
Come o'er me there ; and, with a spirit w^on
Back to its earlier years, I kneel again
At young life's broken shrine.
4. The thirst of power
Has been a fever to my spirit. Oft,
Even in my childhood, I was wont to gaze
Upon the swollen cataract rushing down
With its eternal thunder-peal ; the far
20
458 SANDEES' UNION SERIES.
Expanse of ocean, with its infinite
Of stormy waters roaring to the heavens ;
The night-storm fiercely rending the great oaks
From their rock-pinnacles ; the giant clouds
Tossing their plumes like warriors in the sky,
And hurling their keen lightnings through the air
Like the red flash of swords. Ay, I was wont
To gaze on these, and almost weep to think
I could not match their strength. The same wild thirst
For power is yet upon me : it has been
A madness in my day-dreams, and a curse
Upon my being. It has led me on
To mingle in the strife of men, and dare
The Samiel-breath^ of hate ; and I am now.
Even in the opening of my manhood's prime,
One whom the world loves not.
5. Well — it is well.
There is a silent purpose in my heart;
. And neither love, nor hate, nor fear, shall tame
My own fixed daring. Though my being's stream
Gives out no music now, 'tis passing back
To its far fountain in the heavens, and there
'Twill rest forever in the ocean-tide
Of God's immensity. I will not mourn
Life's shrouded memories. I can still drink in
The unshadowed beauty of the universe.
Gaze with a swelling soul upon the blue
Magnificence above, and hear the hymn
Of Heaven in every starlight ray, and fill
Glen, hill, and vale, and mountain, with the bright
And glorious visions poured from the deep home
Of an immortal mind. Past Year, farewell I
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 459
LESSON CXLYIII.
* A crop' o lis, the upper or higher part of a Grecian city ; hence the
citadel or castle, and especially the citadel of Athens.
* Porch, a public portico in Athens, where Zeno, the philosopher, taught
his disciples ; hence sometimes used as equivalent to the school of the
Stoics.
•Ly ce' um, a place in Greece, near the River Ilissus, where Aristotle
taught philosophy.
* Grove, a cluster of trees shading an avenue or walk.
PAUL AT ATHENS.
JOHN ANGELL JAMES.
BEHOLD Paul, the Apostle, at Athens ! think of the
matchless splendor which blazed upon his view as he
rolled his eye around the enchanting panorama that en-
circled the Hill of Mars. On the one hand, as he stood
upon the summit of the rock, beneath the canopy of
heaven, was spread a glorious prospect of mountains,
islands, seas, and skies ; on the other, quite within his
view, was the Plain of Marathon, where the wrecks of
former generations, and the tombs of departed heroes,
mingled together in silent desolation.
2. Behind him towered the lofty Acropolis,' crowned
with the pride of Grecian architecture. There, in the
zenith of their splendor and the perfection of their beauty,
stood those peerless temples, the very fragments of which
are viewed by modern travelers with an idolatry almost
equal to that which reared them. Stretched along the
plain below him, and reclining her head on the slope of
the neighboring hills, was Athens, mother of the arts and
sciences, with her noble offspring sporting beside her.
3. The Porch,'-^ the Lyceum,^ and the Grove ,^ with the
460 SANDERJg' UKION SERIES.
stations of departed sages, and the forms of their living
disciples, were all presented to the apostle's eye. What
mind, possessing the slightest pretension to classic taste,
can think of his situation, and such sublime and captivating
scenery, without a momentary rapture ? Yet there, even
there^ did this accomplished scholar stand as insensible to
all the grandeur as if nothing was before him but the tree-
less, turfless desert.
4. Absorbed in the holy abstractions of his own mind,
he saw the charms, felt no fascination, but, on the con-
trary, was pierced with the most poignant distress ; and
what was the cause ? '•'•He saiv the city wholly given to
idolatry^ To him it presented nothing but a magnificent
mausoleum, decorated, it is true, with the richest produc-
tions of the sculptor and architect, but still where the
souls of men lay dead in trespasses and sins ; while the
dim light of philosophy that still glimmered in the schools
appeared but as the lamp of the sepulcher, shedding its pale
and sickly ray around those gorgeous chambers of death.
LESSON CXLIX.
PAUL AT ATHENS. — Continued.
THERE was something, to such a one as Paul, that was
spirit-stirring in the mighty array that he had to cope
with at Athens. He was full of courage and of hope. In
the cause of Christ he had gone on conquering, and would
trust that, even here, he came to conquer. He felt that it
was enough, even if he saved but one, to recompense the
effort and the peril ; that it was enough, if, by his faithful-
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 461
ness, he only delivered liis own soul. But his was a mind
to look and aim at more than this. He felt the splendor
of the triumph there would be in leveling the wisdom and
the idolatry of Athens at the foot of the Cross.
2. Animated by such' feelings, we may iiow regard
Paul, in what must have been one of the most interesting
moments of even his eventful life, preparing himself on
the Hill of Mars to address an auditory of Athenians on
behalf of Christianity. He would feel the imposing asso-
ciations of the spot on which he stood, where justice had
been administered in its most awful form, by characters the
most venerable, in the darkness of night, under the canoj^y
of heaven, with the solemnities of religion, and with an
authority which legal institution and public opinion had
assimilated rather with the decrees of conscience and of
the gods, than with the ordinary power of human tri-
bunals.
3. He would look around on many an immortal trophy
of architect and sculptor, where genius had triumphed, but
triumphed only in the cause of that idolatry to which they
were dedicated, and for which they existed. And beyond
the city, clinging round its temples, like its inhabitants to
their enshrined idols, would open on his view that lovely
countrv, and the sublime ocean, and the serene heavens
bending over them, and bearing that testimony to the uni-
versal Creator which man and man's Avorks withheld.
4. And with all would Grecian glory be connected, —
the brightness of a day that was closing, and of a sun that
had already set, where recollections of grandeur faded into
sensations of melancholy. And he would gaze on a thi'ong-
ino- auditory, the representatives, to his fancy, of all that
had been, and of all that was ; and think of the intel'
lects with which he had to grapple, and of the hearts
462 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
in whose very core he aimed to plant the barbed arrows
of conviction.
5. There was that multitude, so acute, so inquisitive, so
polished, so athirst for novelty, and so impressible by elo-
quence ; yet with whom a barbarian accent might break
the charm of the most persuasive tongue ; over whom
their own oligarchy of orators would soon re-assert their
dominion, in spite of the invasion of a stranger ; and with
whom sense, feeling, and habit would throw up all their
barriers against the eloquence of Christianity.
6. There would be the priest, astonished at an attempt
so daring ; and as the speaker's design opened on his
mind, anxiously, and with alternate contempt and rage,
measuring the strength of the Samson who thus grasped
the pillars of his temple, threatening to whelm him, his
altars, and his gods, beneath their ruins. There would be
the stoic, in the coldness of his pride, looking sedately
down, as on a child playing with children, to see what new
game was afloat, and what trick or toy was now produced
for wonderment.
7. There would be the epicurean, tasting, as it were, the
preacher's doctrine, to see if it promised aught of merri-
ment ; just lending enough of idle attention not to lose
amusement should it offer, and venting the full explosion
of his ridicule on the resurrection of the dead. There the
sophist, won, perhaps, into something of- an approving and
complacent smile by the dexterity of Paul's introduction,
but finding, as he proceeded, that this was no mere show
of art, or war of words, and vibrating between the habitual
love of entangling, bewildering, and insulting an opponent,
and the repulsiveness which there always is to such men in
the language of honest and zealous conviction.
8. There the slave, timidly crouching at a distance to
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 463
catch what stray sounds the winds might waft to him, after
they had reached his master's ears, of that doctrine, so
strange and blessed, of man's fraternity. And there the
young and noble Roitian, who had come to Athens for edu-
cation, — not to sit like a, Immble scholar at a master's feet,
but, with all the pride of Rome upon his brow, to accept
what artists, poets, and philosophers could offer as their
homage to the lords of earth.
9. If for a moment Paul felt as one would think man
must feel at being the central object of such a scene and
such an assemblage, there would rush upon his mind the
majesty of Jehovah ; and the words of the glorified Jesus ;
and the thunders that struck him to the earth on the road
to Damascus ; and the sense of former efforts, conflicts,
and successes ; and the approach of that judgment to
come, whose righteousness and universality it was now his
duty to announce.
10. Unappalled and collected, he began: — "Ye men
of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too super-
stitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions,
I found an altar with this inscription. To the unknown
God. Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly worship. Him de-
clare I unto you. God that made the world, and all
things therein, seeing that He is Lord of heaven and
earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands ; neither
is worshiped with men's hands, as though He needed any
thing ; seeing He giveth, to all, life, and breath, and all
things ; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for
to dwell on all the face of the earth."*
* Acts 17th chap., 22-26th verses.
464 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
LESSOI^ CL.
TRUTH AND FREEDOM.
WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER.
.QN
the page that is immortal,
We the brilHant promise see :
Ye shall know the truth, my peop\t5,
And its might shall make you free ! '*
2. For the truth, then, let us battle.
Whatsoever fate betide :
Long the boast that we are freemen
We have made, and published wide.
3. He who has the truth, and keeps it.
Keeps what not to him belongs.
But performs a selfish action.
That his fellow-mortal wrono-s.
4. He who seeks the truth, and tremblet
At the dangers he must brave,
Is not fit to be a freeman :
He, at best, is but a slave.
6. He who liears the truth, and places
Its high promptings under ban,
Loud may boast of all that's manly,
But can never be a man.
6. Friend, this simple lay who readest,
Be not thou like either them.
But to truth give utmost freedom ;
And the tide it raises, stem.
UNION FIFTH READER. 465
7. Bold in speech, and bold in action,
Be forever ! Time will test,
Of the free-souled and the slavish,
Which fulfills life's mission best.
8. Be thou like the noble ancient, —
Scorn the threat that bids thee fear :
Speak ! — no matter what betide thee :
Let them strike, but make them hear I
9. Be thou like the first apostles,
Be thou like heroic Paul :
If a free thought seeks expression,
Speak it boldly, speak it all !
10. Face thine enemies — accusers ;
Scorn the prison, rack, or rod ;
And, if thou hast truth to utter,
Speak, and leave the rest to God !
LESSO:^ CLI.
NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPING.
II. A. GERE.
1. TTE is not dead ; he is but sleeping ,-
(pZ.) J_J_ The cold, cold grave is only keeping
The dust to dust returning :
Death could not claim the soul immortal ;
For angels from the heavenly portal
Bent o'er with eager yearning.
30
466 SANDERS' UNION SEEIE8.
2. They saw the failing life-blood quiver,
As soul and flesh neared Death's dark river,
And at its billows parted ;
Then bore to Heaven with holy voicings
The ransomed spirit amid rejoicings, —
The youthful, noble-hearted.
3. They left within the house of mourning
The casket, robbed of its adorning, —
The soul that never slumbers :
All beauteous was it yet in seeming,
As one who sleeps in quiet dreaming,
Or lists to pleasant numbers.
4. And it was strano;e to see him lyinor
Arrayed in vestments of the dying ;
Oh, it was sad and dreary!
For he was young, and bright, and blooming,
With ardent hopes before him looming.
And heart that ne'er was weary.
5. The good and right with boldness doing,
The better path in all pursuing.
And faithful in each duty,
His life was one harmonious blending.
To all a gracious influence lending,
So full of truth and beauty.
6. But all is o'er : each young ambition
Burned brightly till his youthful mission
Drew near its final closing;
Then, unto God his spirit giving.
He ceased to labor with the living.
And slept in sweet reposing.
UNION FIFTH READER. 467
And though the grave his form is keeping,
He is not dead, he is but sleeping.
To wake to joys supernal :
One seraph more in Heaven is dwelling.
One more redeemed the chorus swelling,
To praise the great Eternal.
LESSON CLII.
^ Sis' t phus, (in mythology,) a king of Corinth, son of Mollis, famed for
his cunning. He was killed by Theseus, and condemned by Pluto to
roll to the top of a hill a huge stone, which constantly recoiled, and
• made his task incessant.
- He rod'' o tus, a native of Halicarnassus, a Dorian city in Asia Minor,
was born 484 B.C. He has been styled the " Father of History." To
collect the necessary materials for his great work, he visited almost
every part of Greece and its dependencies, and many other countries,
investigating minutely the history, manners, and customs of the people.
His history consists of nine books, which bear the names of the Nine
Muses. Next to the Iliad and Odyssey, the history of Herodotus is
one of the greatest works of Greek literary genius.
'Di o do'rus, a famous Greek historian, first century b.c, was the author
of a universal history of forty book's, of which only fifteen and some
fragments are extant.
THE SPHINX AND THE GREAT PYRAMID.
REV. S. 1. PRIME.
AS we approached the edge of the desert, we encountered
a storm of sand that was borne through the air, and
cut off all view of the Pyramids until we were almost upon
them. At length, we see them in the midst of this myste-
rious cloud, sublime and solemn, the mighty memorials of
a dim and distant past. They are even more sublime as
we now behold them in the sands of the desert, which
468 SANDERS' UNION SEEIES.
seems to be aroused like the ocean, and is rising and curl-
ing around the heads of these hoary sentinels.
2. The sand-storm became so furious, that some of the
beasts refused to proceed against it, and actually turned
around, and headed the other way, until its violence was
past. Happily, it was of short continuance ; and it afforded
us a fine opportunity of witnessing one of those terrible
commotions, which, when encountered on the desert, often
prove terribly fatal to the unhappy caravans they over-
take. The storm is over ; the sun returns. Before us are
the Pyramids, and in their midst the mighty Sphinx look-
ing out upon the plain.
3. I confess to a strange, almost superstitious feeling as
I halted before the Sphinx, and gazed upward on this silent
and mighty monument, — a huge form, rising sixty feet
from the ground, one hundred and forty feet long, and the
head more than a hundred feet in circumference, with
mutilated but yet apparent human features, looking out
toward the fertile land and the Nile. It suddenly im-
pressed me as it were indeed the divinity of ancient
Egypt. The Arabs of the present day call it '' The
Father of Terror," or immensity.
4. An ignorant people might be easily tempted to regard
it with reverence and fear. In its state of pristine perfec-
tion, no single statue in Egypt could have vied with it.
When the lower part of the figure, which had been cov-
ered up with the sand, was at length uncovered for a while
by the laborious and Sisyphus ^-like toil, (the sand slipping
down almost as fast as it could be removed,) it presented
the appearance of an enormous couchant Sphinx, with
gigantic paws, between which crouched, as if for protec
tion, a miniature temple, with a platform and flights of
steps for approaching it, with others leading down fror^
the plain above.
UNION FIFTH READER. 469
5. A crude brick wall protected it from the sand. It is
hardly possible to conceive a more strange and imposing
spectacle than it must have formerly presented to the wor-
shiper, advancing as he did along this avenue of approach,
confined between the sand- walls of the ravine, and looking
up over the temple to the colossal head of the tutelary
deity, which beamed down upon him from an altitude of
sixty feet with an aspect of god-like benignity.
6. As yet, no entrance has been effected; and it is
probably carved from the solid rock. Neither is there
reason to suppose that it had relation to the Pyramids, in
whose vicinity it stands. I think it very strange that
Herodotus^ makes no mention of the Sphinx, nor Diodo-
rus,^ nor, indeed, any ancient author before the Roman
age, though its great antiquity is well established by the
inscriptions that are found upon It.
7. The statue seems to be crumbling; and the head has
been so mutilated, that the cap which formerly covered it,
and the beard, are nearly all gone. I rode around it, and
then walked out on the wave of sand to the pedestal, and
crept along as nearly under the monster as I could get,
and found that the sense of veneration wore away as I
became familiar with the mass of stone that stands here so
mysteriously, — a greater wonder. In my view, than the
Pyramids themselves. What Is Its original design ? Who
made It ? These are questions never to be answered by
any thing safer than conjecture.
8. Doubtless the Sphinx was an object of worship, and
was carved out of a rock in the Lyblan range for that pur-
pose. Viewed in this light, or even in the dim twilight of
utter ignorance, as to Its design, It certainly remains the
most mysterious and Impressive of the monuments of
Egypt. If these lips could speak, what a story would
470 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
they tell ! If these eyes could see, on what wondrous
scenes they would have looked in the four thousand years
that those stone orbs have been gazing upon the plains of
Egypt ! — the rising and retiring of her wonderful river,
coming like a divinity to prepare her^bosom for the seed,
and then retiring that the flower and fruits may gladden
the soil, and reward the laborer's toil.
9. Size of the Great Pyramid. — Have you ever
stood in the center of a twelve-acre lot ? Mark off in
your mind's plantation twelve acres, and cover the ground
with layers of huge hewn stone, so nicely fitted that the
joints can scarcely be discerned. Over this platform, but
two feet within the outer edge, put on another layer, and
another, leaving but a single narrow passage into a few
smaller chambers in the far interior of this immense mass,
that rises by gradually diminishing layers as it ascends, till
it reaches an apex twice the hight of the loftiest church-
spire in New York, and you have some idea of the outer
dimensions of the Great Pyramid.
10. At the first sight of this long-expected wonder, we
•are not instantly overwhelmed with the magnitude of the
pile. It takes some time to adjust one's mind to the
object ; and probably not one man in a thousand would
believe that this pyramid covers five, much less that it
covers ten, and even twelve or thirteen, acres of earth.
But it is even so. And, as greatness and mystery are ele-
ments of the highest sublimity, we are excited the longer
we contemplate these mighty structures, and strive to get
them fairly within the grasp of the mind. They grow
every moment we look upon them. They begin to take
us in, and we feel ourselves gradually absorbed by the
grandeur of the monument that forbids, yet invites us to
enter its mysterious portals.
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 471
LESSON CLIIL
^ Par' the non, a celebrated temple of Minerva at Athens, in Greece.
- Col OS se' um. See note, page 333.
'Alham'bra, a palace of the Moorish kings at Granada, affording an
unusually fine exhibition of Saracenic architecture.
* Moor, a native of the countries now called Morocco, Tunis, Algiers, and
Tripoli, on the northern coast of Africa.
* Py tiiag' o ras, a Greek philosopher, born about 570 years B.C. He
taught the doctrine of metempsycho' sis, or transmigration of souls
through different orders of animal existence.
* Ho' MER. See note, page 106.
ANTIQUITY OF EGYPT.
MRS. E. OAKES smith.
" rpHERE were giants in the land in those days." *
i Thus, in tlie very language of Scripture, one is led
to exclaim, when contemplating Egypt, the mother of civ-
ilization, the cradle of the arts, the one kingdom standing
alone among the ancient things of earth, — the ancient
among all that is old. While its origin is lost amid a dark
and obscure mythology, Egypt has lived in the magnifi-
cence of its own ruins to witness kinsidoms and dvnasties
rise, flourish, and disappear under the unfailing progress
of time ; and nations, onde the glory and terror of the
earth, fade away, till their memory is to be sought in the
remains of their genius, their works of taste, or the splen-
dor of their ruins.
2. Egypt remains, shorn of her beams, it is true, yet
does she live with a name as enduring as the materials of
which her stupendous and giant-like monuments are con-
structed. Carry the mind back to the time when the
* Genesis, 6th chap., 4th verse.
472 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.
Tiber, with its vines and olives, glided in solitary beauty
between its verdant banks, and the seven hills, crowned
with vegetation to their very summits, resounded only to
the melody of the wild bird or the tread of the ferocious
beast, ere Romulus had laid the foundations even of the
"Eternal City," and what was Egypt then?
3. She had become ruinous witli age : her surplus popu-
lation had, centuries before, carried the arts to other lands,
and peopled kingdoms that were the glory of the earth.
Greece, retaining the elements of Egyptian greatness, had
remodeled every thing with a lighter and more exuberant
taste ; the superb grandeur of the original country had
yielded to the elegant fancy of a refined and chastened
judgment ; and arts and literature, freed from the tlirall-
dom of a gloomy priesthood, started at once to life, like the
fabled goddess, armed and full-grown.
4. Surely " there were giants in the land in those
days," we involuntarily exclaim when beholding the stu-
pendous works of human labor that date their origin to a
period anterior to any certain records. The mountain of
solid granite has been excavated into an idolatrous temple,
and the chisel of the artist has wrought upon its surface
immense figures of men, who, thousands and thousands
of years ago, figured upon the arena of life, and performed
the exploits there recorded.
5. There are the mementoes of their greatness, though
their names have long since passed away, and are forgot-
ten. Yet there stand those colossal men, the champions
of ancient Egypt, living in imperishable granite, looking
from the sepulcher of centuries upon the generations that
stare in wonderment upon them, not one of whom can lift
the vail which time has thrown over their name and
deeds. The history of the whole world, so far as it is now
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 473
known to man, might have been written as it transpired,
upon the surface of tlie Pyramids, and yet the shadows of
unknown times would rest upon their summits.
6. We must go back to a period long prior to any cer-
tain chronology, if we would even attempt to form a con-
ception of the refinement and resources of this wonderful
people. We must violate the gloomy sanctuary of the
mausoleum and catacomb, be able to interpret the hiero-
glyphics of their decaying temples, and, wandering amid
their time-honored Pyramids, be gifted with a mental vision
that penetrates the dim twilight of ages, if we would solve
the mystery of the early Egyptians.
7. Egypt, amid the nations of the earth, reminds us, if
we may " compare great things with small," of the old oak
that has braved the storms and the changes of a thousand
years, and beheld sapling after sapling rise in its shadow,
grow to maturity and decay, while its own form became
but the more venerable with the moss of aores. The Par-
thenon,^ the Colosseum,'^ and the Palace of the Alhambra,^
have each been the pride and glory of their respective na-
tions, and are now venerable in ruins ; but neither the
elegant Greek, the stern Roman, nor the haughty Moor,'*
could, more than ourselves, penetrate the obscurity that
vails the builders of these vast edifices, which vie in dura-
bility with the " everlasting hills."
8. It was here that Herodotus, Pythagoras,^ Homer ,^
and all the wise and gifted of Greece, sat at the feet of an
Egyptian priesthood, and imbibed those lessons of wisdom
,and knowledge which they were to convey to their own
soil, where, touched by a livelier fancy and more elegant
taste, they were to produce works that remain to this day,
the wonder and admiration of the world.
474 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
LESSOK CLIV.
CHOICE EXTRACTS.
I.
BUGLE SONG.
TENNYSON.
«
1. rPHE splendor falls on castle walls,
X And snowy summits old in story ;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ;
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, — dying, dying, dying !
2. O hark ! O hear ! how thin and .clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going I
O sweet and far, from cliff and scar.
The horns of Elf-land faintly blowing !
Blow ! let us hear the purple glens replying :
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, — dying, dying, dying !
3. O love ! they die in yon rich sky ;
They faint on hill, or field, or river !
Our echoes roll from soul to soul.
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ;
And answer, echoes, answer, — dying, dying, dying !
UNION FIFTH HEADER 475
II.
THE AGE OF PROGRESS.
CHARLES SUMNER.
1. The age of chivalry has gone. An age of hu-
manity has come. The horse, whose importance, more
than human, gave the name to that early period of gallant-
ry and war, now yields his foremost place to man. In
serving him, in promoting his elevation, in contributing to
his welfare, in doing him good, there are fields of bloodless
triumph, nobler far than any in which the bravest knight
ever conquered. Here are spaces of labor, wide as the
world, lofty as heaven.
2. Let me say, then, in the benison once bestowed upon
the youthful knight, — Scholars, jurists, artists, philanthro-
pists, heroes of a Christian age, companions of a celestial
knighthood, " Go forth. Be brave, loyal, and successful ! "
And may it be our office to light a fresh beacon-fire sacred
to truth ! Let the flame spread from hill to hill, from
island to island, from continent to continent, till the long
lineage of fires shall illumine ^all the nations of the earth,
animating them to the holy contests of Knowledge, Jus-
tice, Beauty, Love. #
III.
CLEAR THE WAY.
1. There's a fount about to stream,
There's a light about to beam.
There's a warmth about to glow.
There's a flower about to blow.
There's a midnight blackness changing
Into gray :
Men of thought, and men of uction,
Clear the way !
m
476 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES.
2. Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ;
Aid it, hopes of honest men ;
Aid it, paper ; aid it, type ;
Aid it, for the hour is ripe.
And our earnest must not slacken
Into play :
Men of thought, and men of action.
Clear the way !
IV.
OUR SAGES AND HEROES.
CHARLES SPRAGUE.
To the sages who spoke, to the heroes who bled.
To the day and the deed, strike the harp-strings of glory !
Let the song of the ransomed remember the dead.
And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story !
O'er the bones of the bold
Be that story long told,
And on Fame's golden tablets their triumphs enrolled,
Who on Freedom's green hills Freedom's banner unfurled.
And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world !
II.
They are gone, mighty men ; and they sleep in their fame I
Shall we ever forget them ? Oh, never ! no, never !
Let our sons learn from us to embalm each great name.
And the anthem send down, " Independence forever ! "
Wake, wake, heart and tongue !
Keep the theme ever young ;
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 477
Let their deeds through the long line of ages be sung,
Who on Freedom's green hills Freedom's banner unfurled,
And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world I
V.
THE AMERICAN UNION.
WEBSTER.
When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time
the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken
and dishonored fragments of a once-glorious Union ; on
States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent
with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood!
Let their last feeble and lino-ering; glance rather behold the
gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored
throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and
trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe
erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for
its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, " What is all
this worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly,
" Liberty first, and Union afterward ; " but everywhere,
spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all
its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land,
and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other
sentiment, dear to every true American heart, — Liberty
AND Union, now and forever, one and inseparable !
VI.
EXPULSION FROM PARADISE.
MILTON.
O unexpected stroke ! worse than of death !
Must I leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave
Thee, native soil ? these happy walks and shades,
478 SAN'DEES' UNION SERIES.
Fit haunt of gods, where I had hoped to spend
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both ? O flowers I
Tliat never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation and my last
At even, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, —
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ?
Thee, lastly, nuptial bower ! by me adorned
With what to sight or smell was s^weet, — from thee
How shall I part ? and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
And wild ? How shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits ?
vn.
WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT.
R. C. WINTHROP.
1. The wide-spread Republic is the true monument to
Washington. Maintain its independence ; uphold its Con-
stitution ; preserve its union ; defend its liberty ; let it
stand before the world in all its original strength and
beauty, securing peace, order, equality, and freedom to all
within its boundaries, and shedding light, and hope, and
joy upon the pathway of human liberty throughout the
Avorld, — and Washington needs no other monument.
Other structures may fitly testify our veneration for him:
this, tliis alone, can adequately illustrate his services to
mankind.
2. Nor does he need even this. The Republic may
perish ; the wide arch of our ranged Union may fall ; star
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 479
by star its glories may expire ; stone by stone its columns
and its Capitol may molder and crumble ; all other names
which adorn its annals may be forgotten : but as long as
human hearts shall anywhere pant, or human tongues shall
anywhere plead, for a true, rational, constitutional hberty,
those hearts shall enshrine the memory, and those tongues
lorolong the fame, of George Washington !
VIII.
THE LORD OUR PROVIDER.
WORDSWOliTH.
Author of being, life-sustaining King,
Lo ! Want's dependent eye from Thee implores
The seasons, which provide nutritious stores :
Give to her prayers the renovating Spring,
And Summer-heats all perfecting, that bring
The fruits which Autumn from a thousand stores
Selecteth provident, when Earth adores
Her God, and all her vales exulting sing.
Without Thy blessing, the submissive steer
Bends to the plowman's galling yoke in vain ;
Without Thy blessing on the varied year.
Can the swarth reaper grasp the golden grain' ?
Without Thy blessing, all is black and drear ;
With it, the joys of Eden bloom again.
IX.
MORAL AND REPUBLICAN PRINCIPLES.
EDWARD EVERETT.
1. War may stride over the land with the crushing step
of a giant ; pestilence may steal over it like an invisible
curse, reaching its victim silently and unseen, unpeopling
480 SANDERS' UJ^ION SERIES.
here a village, and there a city, until every dwelling is a
sepulcher ; famine may brood over it with a long and
weary visitation, until the sky itself is brazen, and the
beautiful greenness gives place to a parched desert, a
wide waste of unproductive desolation : but these are only
physical evils. The wild flower will bloom in peace on
the field of battle and above the crushed skeleton. The
destroying angel of the pestilence will retire when his
errand is" done, and the nation will again breathe freely ;
and the barrenness of famine will cease at last, — the
cloud will be prodigal of its hoarded rain, and the wilder-
ness will blossom.
2. But for moral desolation there is no reviving spring.
Let the moral and republican principles of our country be
abandoned ; let impudence, and corruption, and intrigue
triumph over honesty and intellect, — and our liberties and
strength will depart forever. Of these there can be no
resuscitation. The '' abomination of desolation " will be
fixed and perpetual ; and, as the mighty fabric of our
glory totters into ruins, the nations of the earth will mock
us in our overthrow, like the powers of darkness, when the
throned one of Babylon became even as themselves, and
the "glory of the Chaldees' excellency had gone down
forever."
THE END.
GENERAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY
RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED
This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the
date to which renewed.
Renewed books are subject to immediate recall.
JAN 6 1953i
DEC 3 RECD
^\i¥ii
21-100m-l,'54(1887sl6)476
VB 36828
1756006
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
( '
1 f
'^ , \ 'A:
»l
U } y
'00M