Chapter 15

3. He pointed the way, and Talleyrand, who, in his life, was Bishop, Prince, and Prime Minister, ascended the stairs. A miserable suppliant, he stood before the stranger's door, knocked, and entered. In the far corner of the dimly-lighted room, sat a man of some fifty years, his arms folded, and his head bowed on his breast. From a window directly opposite, a faint light rested on his forehead.

4. His eyes looked from beneath the downcast brows, and gazed on Talleyrand's face with a peculiar and searching expression. His face was striking in outline,--the mouth and chin indicative of an iron will. His form, vigorous, even with the snows of fifty winters, was clad in a dark, but rich and distinguished costume.

5. Talleyrand advanced, stated that he was a fugitive; and, under the impression that the gentleman before him was an American, he solicited his kind and generous offices. He related his history in eloquent French and broken English.

6. "I am a wanderer, and an exile. I am forced to flee to the New World, without a friend or home. You are an American! Give me, then, I beseech you, a letter of yours, so that I may be able to earn my bread. I am willing to toil in any manner; the scenes of Paris have seized me with such horror, that a life of labor would be a paradise to a career of luxury in France. You will give me a letter to one of your friends? A gentleman like yourself has, doubtless, many friends."

7. The strange gentleman rose. With a look that Talleyrand never forgot, he retreated to the door of the next chamber,--his eyes looking still from beneath his darkened brow. He spoke as he retreated backward,--his voice was full of meaning. "I am the only man born in the New World, who can raise his hand to God and say, I have not a friend, not one, in all America!" Talleyrand never forgot the overwhelming sadness of that look which accompanied these words.

8. "Who are you?" he cried, as the strange man retreated to the next room: "your name?" "My name," he replied, with a smile that had more of mockery than joy in its convulsive expression,--"my name is Benedict Arnold!" He was gone: Talleyrand sank into his chair, gasping the words, "ARNOLD, THE TRAITOR!"

9. Thus, you see, he wandered over the earth another Cain, with the wanderer's mark upon his brow. Even in that secluded room, in that inn at Havre, his crimes found him out, and forced him to tell his name: that name the synonym of infamy. The last twenty years of his life are covered with a cloud, from whose darkness but a few gleams of light flash out upon the page of history.

10. The manner of his death is not exactly known; but we can not doubt that he died utterly friendless,--that remorse pursued him to the grave, whispering "John Andre" in his ear,--and that the memory of his course of infamy gnawed like a canker at his heart, murmuring forever, "True to your country, what might you have been, O ARNOLD, THE TRAITOR!"

QUESTIONS.--1. Who was Talleyrand? 2. Why was he obliged to flee from Paris? 3. Whom did he seek at Havre? 4. Why did he wish to see the stranger? 5. Describe the appearance of this stranger. 6. What did he say to Talleyrand? 7. Who did the stranger prove to be? 8. What is said of Arnold? 9. Where is Havre? 10. Where is Paris? 11. What is meant by _New World_?

* * * * *

LESSON LIX.

LO CO MO' TIVE, steam-engine to propel rail-cars. COL LIS' ION, (_s_ like _zh_,) shock; violent contact. EN GIN EER', one who manages an engine. PRE CIP' I TA TED, thrown headlong. RE-EN FORCE' MENTS, additional forces. OB' STI NATE, unyielding. CORPS, (_kore_,) body of troops. BANK' RUPT CY, insolvency. E NOR' MOUS, immense; very large. AS' SETS, amounts due. RE MIT' TANCE, money remitted. PRE SERV' ED, secured; saved. MA TU' RI TY, time of payment. RE PRIEVE', respite. IN SOLV' ENT, one unable to pay his debts. PROV O CA' TION, incitement to anger. IG NO MIN' I OUS, disgraceful. SAC RI FIC' ED, (_c_ like _z_,) thrown away.

BEHIND TIME.

FREEMAN HUNT.

1. A railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a station, at which the cars usually passed each other. The conductor was late,--so late that the period during which the down train was to wait, had nearly elapsed: but he hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly, a locomotive dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant, there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity; and all because an engineer had been _behind time_.

2. A great battle was going on. Column after column had been precipitated for eight mortal hours on the enemy posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; re-enforcements for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary to carry the position with one final charge, or every thing would be lost. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and, if it came up in season, all would yet be right. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve into an attacking column, and led them down the hill. The whole world knows the result. Grouchy [Footnote: Pronounced _Groo' shee_.] failed to appear; the imperial guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena, because one of his marshals was _behind time_.

3. A leading firm, in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets in California, it expected remittances by a certain day; and if the sums promised arrived, its credit, its honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last, came the fatal day on which the firm had bills maturing to enormous amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found on inquiry that she brought no funds; and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the insolvents, but it was too late; they were ruined, because their agent, in remitting, had been _behind time_.

4. A condemned man was led out for execution, he had taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve, a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and, though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body hung suspended in the air. Just at that moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down the hill, his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved to the crowd. He was the express rider with the reprieve. But he had come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive _behind time_.

5. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the wealth of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is "behind time." There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are "behind time." Five minutes in a crisis are worth years. It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a fortune, or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than another by him who would succeed in life, it is _punctuality_; if there is one error that should be avoided, it is being _behind time_.

QUESTIONS.--1. What sad results are mentioned, in consequence of being _behind time?_ 2. What virtue should be cultivated, and what error avoided? 3. What is the use of the hyphen in the word _re-enforcements?_ See SANDERS' NEW SPELLER, page 165.

* * * * *

LESSON LX.

TWIN' ED, interwoven. GAR' LAND, wreath of flowers. MUS' ED, thought; meditated. AN TIQUE', (_an teek'_,) ancient. MOLD, shape; form. RARE, scarce; seldom seen. SOOTH ED, calmed; quieted. THROB' BED, beat; palpitated. CO' ZY, snug; comfortable. EBB' ED, flowed back. JOUR' NEY, travel. LONG' ING, earnestly desiring. TIE, bond of affection. RIV' EN, torn asunder.

"HOW HAPPY I'LL BE."

1. A little girl sat amid the flowers, In the blush and bloom of childhood's hours; She twined the buds in a garland fair, And bound them up in her shining hair: "Ah, me!" said she, "_how happy I'll be_, When ten years more have gone over me, And I am a maiden with youth's bright glow Flushing my cheek, and lighting my brow!"

2. A maiden mused in a pleasant room, Where the air was filled with a soft perfume; Vases were near of antique mold, And beautiful pictures, rare and old; And she, amid all the beauty there, Was by far the loveliest and most fair. "Ah, me!" said she, "_how happy I'll be_, When my heart's own choice comes back to me, When I proudly stand by my dear one's side, With the thrilling joy of a youthful bride!"

3. A mother bent o'er the cradle nest Where she soothed her babe to his smiling rest; She watched the sleep of her cherub-boy, And her spirit throbbed with exulting joy. "Ah, me!" said she, "_how happy I'll be_, When he reaches manhood, proud and free, And the world bows down, in its rapture wild, It the earnest words of my darling child!"

4. An aged one sat by the cozy hearth, Counting life's sands as they ebbed from earth; Feeble and frail; the race she run Had borne her along to the setting sun. "Ah, me!" said she, "_how happy I'll be_, When from time's long fever my soul is free, When the world fades out with its weary strife, And I soar away to a better life!"

5. 'Tis thus we journey from youth to age, Longing to turn to another page, Striving to hasten the years away, Lighting our hearts with the future's ray, Hoping on earth till its visions fade, Wishing and waiting, through sun and shade, But turning, when earth's last tie is riven, To the beautiful rest of a fadeless Heaven.

QUESTIONS.--1. When did the little girl think she would be happy? 2. What did she say when she became old? 3. What are we constantly expecting from youth to age? 4. What is the meaning of the suffix _ing_, in such words as _longing, striving, lighting_, &c.? See SANDERS & McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 134, Ex. 176.

* * * * *

LESSON LXI.

VET' ER AN, old soldier. GRASP' ED, seized hold of. AN' CIENT, old. MUR' MUR, ED, uttered in a low voice. IM MOR' TAL, imperishable. RAG' ED, was furious. RE MAIN', still exists. SIRE, father. LIGHT' EN ED, (EN, _make_; ED, _did_,) did make light.

THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.

WILLIAM R. WALLACE.

1. He lay upon his dying bed, (pl.) His eye was growing dim, When, with a feeble voice, he called His weeping son to him: "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said, "I bow to Heaven's high will; But quickly from yon antlers bring, The sword of Bunker Hill."

2. The sword was brought; the soldier's eye Lit with a sudden flame; And, as he grasped the ancient blade, He murmured Warren's[1] name; Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold, But what is richer still, I leave you, mark me, mark me, now, The sword of Bunker Hill.

3. "'Twas on that dread, immortal day, I dared the Briton's band, A captain raised his blade on me, I tore it from his hand; And while the glorious battle raged, It lightened Freedom's will; For, boy, the God of Freedom blessed The sword of Bunker Hill.

4. "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,-- A smile--and he was dead; But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade, Upon that dying bed. The son remains, the sword remains, Its glory growing still, And twenty millions bless the sire And sword of Bunker Hill.

[Footnote 1: General Warren, a brave and valuable officer, fell by a musket-ball, while fighting the British at Bunker's Hill, June 17th, 1775.]

QUESTIONS.--1. What request did the old veteran make of his son? 2. What bequest did he make to him? 3. How did he obtain that sword? 4. What did he say to his son? 5. Who was Warren?

* * * * *

LESSON LXII.

LE' GEND, fictitious narrative. MOR' TAL, deadly. COM' BAT, battle; conflict. PRI ME' VAL, first; primitive. MUS' CU LAR, strong; vigorous. CA DAV' ER OUS, pale; sickly. REF U GEE', runaway; fugitive. QUAR' TER, mercy; indulgence. PIN' ION ED, confined; shackled. A BYSS', yawning gulf. PRO POS' AL, offer; proposition. DI SHEV' EL ED, disordered. IM BO' SOM ED, surrounded; inclosed. CON FESS' ED, owned; acknowledged. RE LENT' ING, pitying; compassionate. RAN' DOM, venture. SU PER STI' TION, false religious belief. A VENGE', take satisfaction for. UN CON' SCIOUS, unaware. SUB LIM' I TY, grandeur.

THE BIBLE LEGEND OF THE WIS SA HI' KON.

LIPPARD.

1. It was here in the wilds of the Wis sa hi' kon, on the day of battle, as the noonday sun came shining through the thickly clustered leaves, that two men met in mortal combat. They grappled in deadly conflict near a rock that rose, like the huge wreck of some primeval world, at least one hundred feet above the dark waters of the Wis sa hi'kon.

2. That man with the dark brow and the darker gray eye,--with the muscular form, clad in the blue hunting-frock of the Revolution,--is a Continental, named Warner. His brother was murdered at the massacre of Pao'li. That _other_ man, with long black hair drooping along his cadaverous face, is clad in the half-military costume of a Tory refugee. _That_ is the murderer of Pao'li, named Dabney.

3. They had met there in the woods by accident; and now they fought, not with sword or rifle, but with long and deadly hunting-knives, that flash in the light as they go turning, and twining, and twisting over the green-sward. At last, the Tory is down!--down on the green-sward, with the knee of the Continental upon his breast,--that up-raised knife quivering in the light,--that dark-gray eye flashing death into his face!

4. "Quarter! I yield!" gasped the Tory, as the knee was pressed upon his breast. "Spare me!--I yield!"

5. "_My_ brother," said the patriot soldier, in a low tone of deadly hate,--"_My_ brother cried for quarter on the night of Pa o' li, and, even as he clung to your knees, you struck that knife into his heart. Oh, I will give you the quarter of Pa o' li!" And his hand was raised for the blow, and his teeth were clinched in deadly hate. He paused for a moment, and then pinioned the Tory's arms, and, with one rapid stride, dragged him to the verge of the rock, and held him quivering over the abyss.

6. "Mercy!" gasped the Tory, turning black and ashy by turns, as that awful gulf yawned below. "_Mercy! I have a wife! a child! spare me!_"

7. Then the Continental, with his muscular strength gathered for the effort, shook the murderer once more over the abyss, and then hissed this bitter sneer between his teeth,--"_My brother had a wife and two children_. The morning after the night of Pa o' li, that wife was a widow,--those children were orphans! Would not you like to go and beg your life of that widow and her children?"

8. The proposal, made by the Continental in the mere mockery of hate, was taken in serious earnest by the horror-stricken Tory. He begged to be taken to the widow and her children, to have the pitiful privilege of begging his life. After a moment's serious thought, the patriot soldier consented. He bound the Tory's arms yet tighter, placed him on the rock again, and then led him up the woods. A quiet cottage, imbosomed among the trees, broke on their eyes.

9. They entered that cottage. There, beside the desolate hearth-stone, sat the widow and her children. She was a matronly woman of about thirty years, with a face faded by care, a deep, dark eye, and long, disheveled hair about her shoulder. On one side was a dark-haired boy, of some six years; on the other, a little girl, one year younger, with light hair and blue eyes. The Bible, an old, venerable volume, lay open on that mother's lap.

10. And then that pale-faced Tory flung himself on his knees, confessed that he had butchered her husband on the night of Pa o'li, but begged his life at her hands! _"Spare me, for the sake of my wife--my child!"_ He had expected that his pitiful moan would touch the widow's heart; but not one relenting gleam softened her pale face.

11. "The Lord shall judge between us!" she said in a cold, icy tone, that froze the murderer's heart. "Look! The Bible lies open before me. I will close that volume, and then this boy shall open it, and place his finger at random upon a line, and by _that line_ you shall live or die!" This was a strange proposal, made in full faith of a wild and dark superstition of the olden time. For a moment, the Tory, kneeling there, livid as ashes, was wrapt in thought. Then, in a faltering voice, he signified his consent.

12. Raising her dark eyes to heaven, the mother prayed the Great Father to direct the finger of her son. She closed the book, and handed it to that boy, whose young cheek reddened with loathing as he gazed upon his father's murderer. He took the Bible, opened its holy pages at random, and placed his fingers upon a verse.

13. Then there was a silence. That Continental soldier, who had sworn to avenge his brother's death, stood there with dilating eyes and parted lips. Then the culprit, kneeling on the floor, with a face like discolored clay, felt his heart leap to his throat. Then, in a clear, bold voice, the widow read this line from the Old Testament. It was short, yet terrible: "_That man shall die!_"

14. Look! The brother springs forward to plunge a knife into the murderer's heart; but the Tory, pinioned as he is, begs that one more trial may be made by the little girl,--that child of five years, with golden hair and laughing eyes. The widow consents. There is an awful pause. With a smile in her eye, without knowing what she does, the little girl opens the Bible,--she turns her laughing face away,--she places her fingers upon the page.

15. That awful silence grows deeper. The deep-drawn breath of the brother, and the broken gasps of the murderer, alone disturb the stillness. The widow and dark-eyed boy are breathless. That little girl, unconscious as she was, caught a feeling of awe from the countenances around her, and stood breathless, her face turned aside, and her tiny fingers resting on that line of life or death. At last, gathering courage, the widow bent her eyes on the page, and read. It was a line from the New Testament: "LOVE YOUR ENEMIES." Ah! that moment was sublime!

16. Oh, awful Book of God! in whose dread pages we see Job talking face to face with Jehovah, or Jesus waiting by Samaria's well, or wandering by the waves of dark Galilee! Oh, awful Book! shining to-night, as I speak, the light of that widow's home,--the glory of the mechanic's shop,--shining where the world comes not, to look on the last night of the convict in his cell, lightening the way to God, even over that dread gibbet!

17. Oh, Book of terrible majesty and child-like love,--for sublimity that crushes the soul into awe,--of beauty that melts the heart with rapture! you never shone more strangely beautiful than there in the lonely cot of the Wissa hi'kon, where you saved the murderer's life. For,--need I tell you?--_that murderer's life was saved_. That widow recognized the finger of God, and even the stern brother was awed into silence. The murderer went his way.

18. Now look ye, how wonderful are the ways of Heaven! That very night, as the widow sat by her lonely hearth, her orphans by her side,--sat there with a crushed heart and hot eye-balls, thinking of her husband, who, she supposed, now lay moldering on the blood-drenched soil of Pa o' li,--there was a tap at the door. She opened it, and that husband, living, though covered with wounds, was in her arms! He had fallen at Pa o' li, but not in death. _He was alive_,--his wife lay panting on his breast. That night there was a prayer in that wood-embowered cot of the Wis sa hi' kon.

QUESTIONS.--1. What two men are said to have engaged in deadly combat? 2. Which gained the mastery? 3. What did the patriot soldier say to the Tory, when he cried, _Quarter_? 4. What, when the Tory told him he had a wife and child? 5. What proposal was made to him? 6. How was his fate to be decided? 7. Was his life spared? 8. What proved the justice of the decision?

* * * * *

LESSON LXIII.

VES' TI BULE, porch, entrance. VI' BRATE, move to and fro. IM MOR' TALS, undying creatures. MON' U MENTS, memorials. A CHIEVE', accomplish. MU TA BLE, changeable. IM MOR TAL' I TY, deathless existence. IL LU' MIN ATE, enlighten. UN DER STAND' ING, intellect. RE AL' I TIES, truths; facts. AS SAULTS', violent attacks. DE SER' TION, abandonment. IN EX HAUST' I BLE, never-failing. CHAR' TER, title; deed.

ADVICE TO THE YOUNG.

E.H. CHAPIN.

1. Young friends', in whatever pursuits you may engage, you must not forget that the lawful objects of human efforts, are but means to higher results and nobler ends. Start not forward in life with the idea of becoming mere seekers of pleasure,--sportive butterflies searching for gaudy flowers. Consider and act with reference to the true ends of existence.

2. This world is but the vestibule of an immortal life. Every action of your life touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity. These thoughts and motives within you, stir the pulses of a deathless spirit. Act not, then, as mere creatures of this life, who, for a little while, are to walk the valleys and the hills, to enjoy the sunshine and to breathe the air, and then pass away and be no more; but _act_ as immortals, with an _aim_ and a _purpose_ worthy of your high nature.

3. Set before you, as the chief object to be obtained, an _end_ that is superior to any on earth,--_a desirable end_, A PERFECT END. Labor to accomplish a work which shall survive unchanged and beautiful, when time shall have withered the garland of youth, when thrones of power and monuments of art shall have crumbled into ashes; and, finally, aim to achieve something, which, when these our mutable and perishing voices are hushed forever, shall live amid the songs and triumphs of IMMORTALITY.

4. Well will it be for you, if you have a _guide_ within, which will aid you in every issue which will arm you in every temptation, and comfort you in every sorrow. Consult, then, that Volume whose precepts will never fail you. Consult it with a deep aspiration after the true and good, and it shall illuminate your understanding with divine realities.

5. Open your soul, and it shall breathe into it a holy influence, and fill all its wants. Bind it close to your heart; it will be a shield against all the assaults of evil. Read it in the lonely hour of desertion; it will be the best of companions. Open it when the voyage of life is troubled'; it is a sure chart. Study it in poverty'; it will unhoard to you inexhaustible riches. Commune with it in sickness'; it contains the medicine of the soul. Clasp it when dying'; IT IS THE CHARTER OF IMMORTALITY.

QUESTIONS.--1. What ought we not to forget? 2. How ought the world to be regarded? 3. How ought we to act and labor? 4. What ought we to consult?

* * * * *

LESSON LXIV.