Chapter 17

7. The sisters, in their journeyings, entered the abode of poverty. It was a humble dwelling, and yet it looked cheerful, yea, even inviting, when the three graced it with their presence. FAITH shed a spirit of calm contentment and heavenly trust in those lowly walls; HOPE whispered of the better mansions prepared for the followers of the Lamb; and LOVE, not less exalted than her sisters, threw a charm over the meager fare and scanty attire of the inmates. FAITH taught them to offer the daily prayer in trusting confidence; HOPE pointed beyond this world to joys which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard; while LOVE lessened each burden, and increased each simple pleasure. FAITH, HOPE, and CHARITY! ye, indeed, can make a paradise of the humblest home!

8. There was a darkened chamber, with a wan form tossing restlessly upon the couch. Wealth was there; but it could not allay pain, or prolong life. FAITH, noiseless as a spirit form, glided to the sick one's side. "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him," was her language, as she pointed upward. HOPE fain would have whispered of length of days, but she knew this could not be; so she spoke of life eternal, where there is no more pain. Then LOVE smoothed the pillow, and bathed the fevered brow, pausing not in her tender ministries through the night-watches. When morning dawned, the spirit of the sick man passed away, though not until FAITH, and HOPE, and LOVE had assuaged the anguish of the parting pang.

9. Weeping mourners gathered around the dead. There were tears,--for "tears well befit earth's partings;" there was sorrow,--for what bitterness is like unto that of the bereaved, when the grave opens to infold the heart's best treasure? Yet FAITH, and HOPE, and LOVE were there, assuaging those tears, and mitigating that sorrow. FAITH, even while her cheeks were wet, exclaimed, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

10. HOPE'S language was, "Not lost, but gone before;" and her eye, having lost none of its brightness, saw with prophetic vision a reunion yet to come. LOVE tenderly wiped away each gathering tear, and gave deeper fervency to the trusting confidence of FAITH, and the inspiring strains of HOPE. And when the sleeper was committed to the dust, these gentle sisters lingered in the lonely house, and by the darkened hearth.

11. Such are FAITH, HOPE, and CHARITY,--given by God to lighten human sorrow, and bless the creatures He has made. They have each a mission to fulfill,--different, it is true, and yet they move in harmony. FAITH enables us to submit trustingly to daily trials, viewing a kind Father's hand in each passing event. HOPE, when the sky is dark, and the path thorny, points not only to fairer scenes below, but to that brighter world where there is no night and no sorrow.

12. LOVE lightens every burden, and reflects upon earth a faint radiation of heavenly blessedness,--for the Scriptures assure us that "God is love: and every one that loveth is born of God." The time will come when, the purposes of the wise Creator being accomplished, Faith and Hope will cease. Faith will be lost in sight, Hope in fruition; but Love will remain, binding the spirits of the redeemed in blissful communion, and uniting them to God the Father and Christ the Elder Brother.

13. Faith, Hope, and Charity! blessed spirits! May they be inmates of every heart! May they assist each of us in the peculiar trials which none can know but ourselves! They will come to us if we seek their presence; but they must be carefully nurtured. Let us cherish them in our bosoms, and they will bless us constantly in our pilgrimage below, and conduct us to the presence of our God.

* * * * *

LESSON LXVIII.

TRANSPORT' ED, highly delighted. THREAT' EN ING, impending. COR' O NAL, crown; chaplet. MYR' I AD, innumerable. LUS' CIOUS, delicious. LUS TY, strong; vigorous. WAR' BLING, singing; caroling. CHURL, sour, surly man. RE FRESH', cool; make fresh. LAN' GUID, dull; sluggish. DROUTH' Y, dry; arid. SUS TAIN', uphold; support. UN GRUDG'ING, free-hearted; liberal. NIG GARD, miser; stingy person.

"NOT TO MYSELF ALONE."

S.W. PARTRIDGE.

1. "_Not to myself alone,_" The little opening flower transported cries. "Not to myself alone I bud and bloom; With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes. The bee comes sipping, every eventide, His dainty fill; The butterfly within my cup doth hide From threatening ill."

2. "_Not to myself alone,_" The circling star with honest pride doth boast, "Not to myself alone I rise and set; I write upon night's coronal of jet His power and skill who formed our myriad host; A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate, I gem the sky. That man might ne'er forget, in every fate, His home on high."

3. "_Not to myself alone_," The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum, "Not to myself alone, from flower to flower, I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower, And to the hive at evening weary come; For man, for man, the luscious food I pile With busy care, Content if he repay my ceaseless toil With scanty share."

4. "_Not to myself alone_," The soaring bird with lusty pinion sings, "Not to myself alone I raise my song; I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue, And bear the mourner on my viewless wings; I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn, And God adore; I call the worldling from his dross to turn, And sing and scar."

5. _"Not to myself alone,"_ The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way, "Not to myself alone I sparkling glide; I scatter health and life on every side, And strew the fields with herb and floweret gay. I sing unto the common, bleak and bare, My gladsome tune; I sweeten and refresh the languid air In droughty June."

6. _"Not to myself alone:"_-- O man, forget not thou,--earth's honored priest, Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heart,-- In earth's great chorus to sustain _thy_ part! Chiefest of guests at Love's ungrudging feast, Play not the niggard; spurn thy native clod, And _self_ disown; Live to thy neighbor; live unto thy God; _Not to thyself alone!_

QUESTIONS.--1. What things are mentioned, that contribute to our comfort and happiness? 2. How does the suffix _less,_ affect the meaning of the words _cease, view, hymn,_ &c.? 3. What is the meaning of the suffixes _let_ and _et,_ in the words _streamlet_ and _floweret?_ See SANDERS & McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 140, Ex. 185 and 187.

* * * * *

LESSON LXIX.

NURS'ING, nourishing; cherishing. AB HOR', detest; loathe. RE LI' ED, depended. FRA TER' NAL, brotherly. SU PER' NAL, heavenly. COM BINE', unite; join together. RE HEARS' AL, recital; repetition. BIG' OT RY, blind zeal; prejudice. SHEATHE, put in a sheath. U NI VERS AL, general. CUS TOM, practice; usage. TAL' ENT, natural ability. AF FECT'ING, making false show. IS' O LATE, separate; detach.

THE WORLD WOULD BE THE BETTER FOR IT.

W.H. COBB.

1. If men cared less for wealth and fame, And less for battle-fields and glory,-- If writ in human hearts a name Seemed better than in song and story,-- If men instead of nursing pride, Would learn to hate it and abhor it,-- If more relied On _love_ to guide,-- _The world would be the better for it._

2. If men dealt less in stocks and lands, And more in bonds and deeds fraternal,-- If Love's work had more willing hands To link this world to the supernal,-- If men stored up Love's oil and wine, And on bruised human hearts would pour it,-- If _"yours"_ and _"mine"_ Would once combine,-- _The world would be the letter for it._

3. If more would _act_ the play of Life, And fewer spoil it in rehearsal,-- If Bigotry would sheathe his knife Till Good became more universal,-- If Custom, gray with ages grown, Had fewer blind men to adore it,-- If talent shone In Truth alone,-- _The world would be the better for it._

4. If men were wise in little things, Affecting less in all their dealings,-- If hearts had fewer rusted strings To isolate their kindly feelings,-- If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, Would strike together and restore it,-- If Right made Might In every fight,-- _The world would be the letter for it._

* * * * *

LESSON LXX.

In reading these antithetic sentences, an excellent effect may be produced by dividing the class equally into two parts, and letting one part read, in concert, the line marked _1st Voice_, and the other part, the line marked _2d Voice;_ or, one pupil may read one line, and the next pupil the other, alternately.

SELECT PROVERBS OF SOLOMON.

_1st Voice_. A wise son maketh a glad father; _2d Voice_, but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.

_1 V_. Treasures of wickedness profit nothing; _2 V_. but righteousness delivereth from death.

_1 V_. He becometh poor, that dealeth with a slack hand; _2 V_. but the hand of the diligent maketh rich.

_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 V_. but the name of the wicked shall rot.

_1 V_. The wise in heart will receive commandment; _2 V_. but a prating fool shall fall.

_1 V._ He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely; _2 V._ but he that perverteth his ways, shall be known.

_1 V._ Wise men lay up knowledge; _2 V._ but the mouth of the wicked is near destruction.

_1 V._ He is in the way of life, that keepeth instruction; _2 V._ but he that refuseth reproof, erreth.

_1 V._ It is as sport to a fool to do mischief; _2 V._ but a man of understanding hath wisdom.

_1 V._ The fear of the Lord prolongeth days; _2 V._ but the years of the wicked shall be shortened.

_1 V._ The hope of the righteous shall be gladness; _2 V._ but the expectation of the wicked shall perish.

_1 V._ The righteous shall never be removed; _2 V._ but the wicked shall not inhabit the earth.

_1 V._ The mouth of the just bringeth forth wisdom; _2 V._ but the froward tongue shall be cut out.

_1 V._ A false balance is an abomination to the Lord; _2 V._ but a just weight is his delight.

_1 V._ Riches profit not in the day of wrath; _2 V._ but righteousness delivereth from death.

_1 V._ The righteousness of the perfect shall direct his way; _2 V._ but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness.

_1 V._ By the blessing of the upright the city is exalted; _2 V._ but it is overthrown by the mouth of the wicked.

_1 V._ Where no counsel is, the people fall, _2 V._ but in the multitude of counselors there is safety.

_1 V._ He that diligently seeketh good, procureth favor; _2 V._ but he that seeketh mischief, it shall come unto him.

_1 V._ The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast; _2 V._ but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.

_1 V_. The lip of truth shall be established forever; _2 V_. but a lying tongue is but for a moment.

_1 V_. Lying lips are abomination to the Lord; _2 V_. but they that deal truly are His delight.

_1 V_. The hand of the diligent shall bear rule; _2 V_. but the slothful shall be under tribute.

_1 V_. A wise son heareth his father's instruction; _2 V_. but a scorner heareth not rebuke.

_1 V_. He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life; _2 V_. but he that openeth wide his lips, shall have destruction.

_1 V_. A scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not; _2 V_. but knowledge is easy unto him that understandeth.

_1 V_. There is a way which seemeth right unto a man; _2 V_. but the end thereof are the ways of death.

_1 V_. A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil; _2 V_. but the fool rageth, and is confident.

_1 V_. The poor is hated even of his neighbor; _2 V_. but the rich hath many friends.

_1 V_. He that oppresseth the poor, reproacheth his Maker; _2 V_. but he that honoreth Him, hath mercy on the poor.

_1 V_. He that is slow to wrath, is of great understanding; _2 V_. but he that is hasty in spirit, exalteth folly.

_1 V_. A soft answer turneth away wrath; _2 V_. but grievous words stir up anger.

_1 V_. He that walketh with wise men, shall be wise; _2 V_. but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.

_1 V_. Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water; _2 V_. but a man of understanding will draw it out.

_1 V_. The wicked is driven away in his wickedness; _2 V_. but the righteous hath hope in his death.

* * * * *

LESSON LXXI.

IM PRES' SION, idea; notion. AT TRAC' TIONS, allurements. SA TI' E TY, excessive fullness. SAT' ED, glutted; satiated. PAM' PER ED, over-fed. SUC' CU LENT, full of sap; juicy. UM BRA' GEOUS, shady. GOR' GEOUS, showy; brilliant. DREAR' I NESS, gloominess. REG' IS TER, record; note down. SUG GEST' IVE, giving signs. DEC LA RA' TION, announcement. EX TREM' I TIES, ends. DRA' PER Y, hangings; decorations. EN CHANT' MENT, charms; fascination. FRET' TED, furnished with frets, of ornamental raised work. DEC O RA' TIONS, adornments.

[Headnote 1: AR' A BESQUES, is a word, denoting ornaments after the Arabian manner, often intricate and fantastic, from the intermingling of foliage, fruits, &c., with other objects real or imaginary.]

WINTER BEAUTY.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

1. It is the impression of many, that only in summer, including spring and autumn, of course, is the _country_ desirable as a residence. The country in summer, and the city for the winter. It is true, that the winter gives attractions to the city, in endless meetings, lectures, concerts, and indoor amusements; but it is not true that the country loses all interest when the leaves are shed and the grass is gone. On the contrary, to one who has learned how to use his senses and his sensibilities, there are attractions in the winter of a peculiar kind, and pleasures which can be reaped only then.

2. It appears to me, that winter comes in to relieve the year of satiety. The mind grows sated with greenness. After eight or nine months of luxuriant growths, the eye grows accustomed to vegetation. To be sure, we never are less pleased with the wide prospect; with forms of noble trees, with towns and meadows, and with the whole aspect of nature. But it is the pleasure of one pampered. We lose the keen edge of hunger. The eye enjoys, without the relish of newness. We expect to enjoy. Every thing loses surprise.

3. Of course, the sky is blue, the grass succulent, the fields green, the trees umbrageous, the clouds silent and mysterious. They were so yesterday, they are so to-day, they will be so to-morrow, next week, next month. In short, the mind does not cease to feel the charm of endless growths; but needs variety, change of diet, less of perpetual feasting, and something of the blessings of a fast. _This_ winter gives. It says to us: You have had too much. You are luxurious and dainty. You need relief and change of diet.

4. The cold blue of the sky, the cold gray of rocks, the sober warmth of browns and russets, take the place of more gorgeous colors. If, now, one will accept this change in the tone of nature, after a time a new and relishful pleasure arises. The month formed by the last fortnight of November and the first two weeks of December, is, to me, the saddest of the year. It most nearly produces the sense of desolateness and dreariness of any portion of the year.

5. From the hour that the summer begins to shorten its days, and register the increasing change along the horizon, over which the sun sets, farther and farther toward the south, we have a genial and gentle sadness. But sadness belongs to all very deep joys. It is almost as needful to the perfectness of joy, as shadows in landscapes are to the charm of the picture. Then, too, comes the fading out of flowers,--each variety in its turn, saying, "Farewell till next summer."

6. Scarcely less suggestive of departing summer are the new-comers, the late summer golden-rod, the asters, and all autumnal flowers. Long experience teaches us that these are the latest blossoms that fall from the sun's lap, and next to them is snow. By association we already see white in the yellow and blue. Then, too, birds are thinking of other things. No more nests, no more young, no more songs,--except signal-notes and rallying-calls; for they are evidently warned, and go about their little remaining daily business, as persons who expect every hour to depart to a distant land.

7. It is scarcely ever that we see the birds _go_. They are here to-day, and gone to-morrow. They disappear without observation. The fields are empty and silent. It seems as if the winds had blown them away with the leaves. The first sight of northern waterfowl, far up in the air, retreating from Labrador and the short, Arctic summer, is always to us like the declaration: "Summer is gone; winter is behind us; it will soon be upon you." At last come the late days of November. All is gone,--frosts reap and glean more sharply every night.

8. A few weeks bring earnest winter. Then begin to dawn other delights. The bracing air, the clean snow-paths, the sled and sleigh, the revelation of forms that all summer were grass-hidden; the sharp-outlined hills lying clear upon the sky; the exquisite tracery of trees,--especially of all such trees as that dendral child of God, the elm, whose branches are carried out into an endless complexity of fine lines of spray, and which stands up in winter, showing in its whole anatomy, that all its summer shade was founded upon the most substantial reality.

9. In winter, too, particularly in the latter periods of it, the extremities of shrubs and branches begin to take on ruddy hues, or purplish browns, and the eye knows that these are the first faint blushes of coming summer. Now, too, we find how beautiful are the mosses in the woods; and under them we find solitary green leaves, that have laughed all winter because they had outwitted the frost.

10. Wherever flowing springs gush from sheltered spots looking south, one will find many green edges, young grass, and some few tougher leaves. Now, too, in still days, the crow swings heavily through the air, cawing with a pleasing harshness. For dieting has performed its work. Your appetite is eager. A little now pleases you more than abundance did in August. Every tiny leaf is to you like a cedar of Lebanon.

11. All these things are unknown to dwellers in cities. It is nothing to them that a robin appeared for the first time yesterday morning, or that a blue-bird sang over against the house. Some new _prima-donna_ [Footnote: The first female singer in an opera.] exhausts their admiration. They are yet studying laces, and do not care for the fringe of swamps, for the first catkins of the willow. They are still coveting the stores of precious stones at the jewelers, and do not care for my ruby buds, and red dogwood, and scarlet winter berries, and ground pine, and partridge-berry leaves.

12. There is one sight of the country, at about this time of the year--the first of March--that few have seen, or else they have passed it by as if it were not worthy of record. I mean the drapery of rocks in gorges, or along precipitous sides of hills or mountains. The seams of rocks are the outlets of springs. The water, trickling through, is seized by the frost, and held fast in white enchantment. Every day adds to the length of the ice drapery; and, as the surface is overlaid by new issuings, it is furred and fretted with silver-white chasings, the most exquisite.

13. Thus, one may find a succession, in a single gorge, of extraordinary ice-curtains, and pendent draperies, of varying lengths, of every fantastic form, of colors varying by thickness, or by the tinge of earth or rock shining through them. In my boyhood, I used to wander along these fairy halls, imagining them to be now altars in long, white draperies; now, grand cathedral pillars of white marble; then, long tapestries chased in white, with arabesques [Headnote 1] and crinkled vines and leaves.

14. Sometimes they seemed like gigantic bridal decorations, or like the robes of beings vast and high, hung in their wardrobes while they slept. But, whatever fancy interpreted them, or whether they were looked upon with two good, sober, literal eyes, they were, and still are, among the most delightful of winter exhibitions, to those who are wise enough to search out the hidden beauty of winter in the country.

QUESTIONS.--1. What are some of the attractions of winter in the city? 2. What are some of the delights of winter in the country? 3. What is said of the drapery of rocks? 4. What did the writer imagine them to be, in boyhood?

* * * * *

LESSON LXXII.

UN SUL' LIED, pure; clear. PHE NOM' E NON, appearance. TRANS PAR' EN CY, clearness. AS TON' ISH ING, amazing. RAM I FI CA' TION, branch, or branching out. IN DE SCRIB' A BLY, beyond description. MA JES' TIC, grand. OC CA' SION AL, occurring at times. IM PRESS'IVE, powerful; effective. IN TER SECT' ING, meeting and crossing. PEN' E TRA TING, piercing. E' THER, thin or refined air. CON GEAL' ED, frozen. BUR' NISH ING, brightening. EN GEN' DER ED, produced. EM' BLEM, symbol. CON TEM PLA' TION, meditation. EL E VA' TION, loftiness.

FROSTED TREES.

1. "Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow, Or winds begun their hazy skies to blow, At evening, a keen eastern breeze arose, And the descending rain unsullied froze. Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view The face of Nature in a rich disguise, And brightened every object to my eyes. For every shrub, and every blade of grass, And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass."

2. Since Sunday, [Feb. 1st, 1852,] we have had presented to our view, the beautiful phenomenon of FROSTED TREES, the most astonishing and brilliant that I ever remember to have noticed. The previous storm and mist had thickly covered every exposed object,--the loftiest trees, the minutest blade, hill and dale, with the icy garment. This transparency was most perfect, defining every form and ramification into exact models of the entire body, branch, or limb.

3. Dwellings and barns were incrusted by the chilling vapor. It hung upon the manes of the cattle, and decorated, wherever seen, the humble grass, which appeared bending, like threads of crystal. The small bushes were indescribably beautiful, and seemed as if chiseled out of the whitest marble. As far as the eye could extend, over brooks, fields, and woods, the same striking and singular sight was universal.

4. I could not remain contented in the house, and toward sunset, hastened away, where the view might be free and uninterrupted. Here, the scene, if possible, was more impressive and interesting. There was scarcely a breath of air, and the general silence was only interrupted by the occasional flight of some winter bird, which, alighting on a limb, would shake down a thousand feathery showers, until he seemed frightened at the unusual sound. The forest trees made a truly majestic appearance, with their naked, giant arms and mossy branches intersecting each other, and fast bound by the frozen barriers.