Chapter 27

2. I saw the young mother in tenderness bend O'er the couch of her slumbering boy; And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured her name, While the dreamer lay smiling in joy. Oh, sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew, When its fragrance is flung on the air, So fresh and so bright to that mother he seemed, As he lay in his innocence there. But I saw when she gazed on the same lovely form, Pale as marble, and silent, and cold, But paler and colder her beautiful boy, And the tale of her sorrow was told! But the Healer was there, who had stricken her heart, And taken her treasure away; To allure her to heaven, He has placed it on high, And the mourner will sweetly obey. There had whispered a voice,--'twas the voice of her God: "I love thee--I love thee--_pass under the rod!_"

3. I saw, too, a father and mother who leaned On the arms of a dear gifted son; And the star in the future grew bright to their gaze, As they saw the proud place he had won; And the fast coming evening of life promised fair, And its pathway grew smooth to their feet, And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the end, And the whispers of fancy were sweet. And I saw them again, bending low o'er the grave, Where their hearts' dearest hope had been laid; And the star had gone down in the darkness of night, And the joy from their bosoms had fled. But the Healer was there, and His arms were around, And He led them with tenderest care; And He showed them a star in the bright upper world, 'Twas their star shining brilliantly there! They had each heard a voice,--'twas the voice of their God: "I love thee--I love thee--_pass under the rod_!"

QUESTIONS.--1. What custom is alluded to, in the passage "_I will cause you to pass under the rod?_" See note. 2. Where is that passage found in the Scriptures? Ans. Ezekiel, 20th chap., 37th verse. 3. What instances are mentioned of individuals "_passing under the rod_?"

* * * * *

LESSON CXV.

PET' U LANT, cross; fretful. CA LAM' I TY, misfortune. SA TIR' IC AL, keenly severe; cutting. NUI' SANCE, annoyance. JUST' I FY, give a right to. STU PID' I TY, extreme dullness. CUL' PABLE, blamable; censurable. IR RI TA BIL' I TY, excitableness. AP PEL LA' TION, name; title. VE' HE MENT, violent; furious. VO CIF ER A' TIONS, loud outcries. MEN' A CES, threats. CEN' SUR ED, blamed. VIN DI CA' TION, justification. LON GEV' I TY, length of life. CON TEMPT' I BLE, despicable.

THE PETULANT MAN.

OSBORNE.

MR. GRIM--MICHAEL--COUSIN MARY.

_Cousin Mary_. More breezes? What terrible thing has happened now, Cousin Grim? What's the matter?

_Grim_. Matter enough, I should think! I sent this stupid fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet; and he has brought me two rights, instead of a right and left.

_Cousin_. What a serious calamity! But, perhaps, he thought it was but _right_ to leave the _left_.

_Grim_. None of your jokes, if you please. This is nothing to laugh at.

_Cousin_. So it would seem, from the expression on your face,--rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a frenzy about.

_Michael_. That's right, Miss; give him a piece of your mind! He's the crossest little man I have met with in the new country. You might scrape old Ireland with a fine-tooth comb, and not find such another.

_Grim_. How dare you talk to me in that style? I'll discharge you this very day!

_Michael_. I'm thinking of discharging _you_, if you don't take better care of that _sweet temper_ of yours.

_Grim_. Leave the room, sir!

_Michael_. That I will, in search of better company, saving the lady's presence. [_Exit._

_Grim_. There, cousin! there is a specimen of my provocations! Can you wonder at my losing my temper?

_Cousin_. Cousin Grim, that would be the most _fortunate_ thing that could befall you.

_Grim_. What do you mean?

_Cousin_. I mean, if you could only _lose that temper_ of yours, it would be a blessed thing for you; though I should pity the poor fellow who _found it._ _Grim_. You are growing satirical in your old age, Cousin Mary.

_Cousin_. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth; your ill temper makes you a nuisance to yourself and every body about you.

_Grim_. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be complimentary!

_Cousin_. No; I am getting to be _candid_. I have passed a week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this afternoon; but, before I go, I mean to speak my mind.

_Grim_. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather freely already.

_Cousin_. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Michael's bringing you the wrong boots, to justify your flying into a rage, and bellowing as if your life had been threatened?

_Grim_. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking blunders!

_Cousin_. And do you never make provoking blunders'? Didn't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for Souchong'? Didn't you send a carriage for me to the cars, half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after great trouble'? And did I roar at you, when we met, because you had done these things'?

_Grim_. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely you should make a _distinction_ between any such little oversight of mine, and the stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your orders.

_Cousin_. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. You are both human; only, as you have had the better education, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part, is much the more culpable.

_Grim_. Thank you! Go on.

_Cousin_. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows! One would think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she would like to see you held under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked.

_Grim_. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and the driver has put on your baggage.

_Cousin_. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose, that it is _constitutional_, and not to be controlled. A selfish, paltry, miserable excuse! I have turned down a leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read what he says in regard to tempers like yours.

_Grim_. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson! Cousin, I can not endure it! Dr. Johnson is a bore!

_Cousin_. Oh, yes! to _evil-doers_,--but to none else. Hear him: "There is in the world a class of mortals known, and contentedly known, by the appellation of _passionate men_, who imagine themselves entitled, by this distinction, to be provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and licentious reproaches."

_Grim_. That will do.

_Cousin_. "Men of this kind," he tells us, "are often pitied rather than censured, and are not treated with the severity which their neglect of the ease of all about them, might justly provoke." But he adds: "It is surely not to be observed without indignation, that men may be found of minds mean enough to be satisfied with this treatment; wretches who are proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and----"

_Grim_. I will hear no more! Have done!

_Cousin_. So the shaft went home! I am not sorry.

_Grim_. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of insulting a man in his own house.

_Cousin_. So, when, at a loss for a vindication, you reproach me with being an old maid! Cousin, it does not distress me, either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, however, remark, that the manhood that can charge against a woman her single state, either as a matter of ridicule or reproach, is not quite up to my standard.

_Grim_. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon! But am I, indeed, the petulant, disagreeable fellow, you would make me out?

_Cousin_. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large things; but, oh! consider that _trifles make up a good portion of the sum of life_; and so "_a small unkindness is a great offense_." Why not be cheerful, sunny, genial, in little things? Why not look on the bright side? Why not present an unruffled front to petty annoyances? Why not labor,--ay, labor,--to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting from yourself such a frame of mind upon them?

Life is short, at the best; why not make it cheerful? Do you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy habit of thought and temper'? Do you know that cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him that gives, and him that takes'?" Do you know that good manners, as well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects on their bright side'? Do you know that it is contemptible selfishness in you to shed gloom and sorrow over a whole family by your moroseness and ill-humor'?

_Grim_. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have listened to your cutting remarks, will prove to you, I hope, that, notwithstanding my angry retorts, I am convinced there is much truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to ask. Send away your carriage; stay a week longer,--a month,--a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly temper of mine,--and I give you my word that I will set about the cure of it in earnest.

_Cousin_. You should have begun earlier,--in youth, when the temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great changes. But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a while, just to see if you are serious in your wish for a reformation, and to help you bring it about.

_Grim_. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and reformed thieves; and _why may not a petulant temper be reformed_, but a system of total abstinence from all harsh, unkind moods and expressions? Come, we will try.

QUESTIONS.--1. At what was Mr. Grim offended? 2. What did Cousin Mary say would be fortunate for him? 3. What blunder had Mr. Grim made? 4. How did he often behave at the table? 5. What does Dr. Johnson say of such men? 6. What did Cousin Mary finally say to him? 7. Of what was he convinced? 8. What did he resolve to do?

* * * * *

LESSON CXVI.

SAC' RI FICE, religious offering. STRAIGHT, immediately. SCUR' VY, low; mean. SCRU' PLE, hesitate. EN DURE', suffer'; tolerate. IM PURE, filthy; unclean. UT TER LY, entirely; completely. BLEM' ISH, defect; deformity. WA' VER ED, hesitated. IM PAR' TIAL, just; free from bias. RE FER', leave to another. PAR' DON, forgive. GHEE, kind of butter used in India. DIS TRUST' ING, suspecting. PAL PA BLE, obvious; evident. LAUD' ING, praising.

THE BRAHMIN AND THE ROGUES.

[Footnote: The fable, here thrown into verse, is related in English prose by Macaulay, who says:--"Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs the story of the Sanscrit Aesop."]

AN EASTERN FABLE.

VERSIFIED BY J.N. McELLIGOTT.

1. A Brahmin went out, the legends say, To buy him a sheep a certain day; For he had solemnly vowed to slay, In sacrifice, a sheep that day, And wanted a sheep his vow to pay. Three neighboring rogues (The cunning dogs!) Finding this out, Went straight about (Moved, I ween, by the very Old Nick,) To play the Brahmin a scurvy trick.

2. So one of them met him with the cry:-- "O Brahmin! O Brahmin! won't you buy A beautiful sheep? for here have I A beautiful sheep for sacrifice, As ever was seen by mortal eyes."

3. "Where is your sheep?" replied the Brahmin; "Bring him out here, and let me examine." With that the wag Opened a bag, And out he drew To public view An ugly, dirty, horrible dog! Blind as a bat, and lame as a frog; With a broken leg, climbing a log. Or limping slowly over a bog.

4. "Wretch!" said the Brahmin indignant, "who Shamelessly utterest things untrue, And dost without a scruple endure To handle creatures the most impure, How darest thou call that cur a sheep? Do you think, foul knave, that I'm asleep?"

5. "_Cur'!_" said the fellow with steady tone; "A _sheep_ it is, and a sheep alone; A sheep (see here, what a splendid fleece!) With flesh the sweetest, and fat as grease; And such a prize For sacrifice, As neither gods nor men can despise, Unless they both have dust in their eyes!" "Sir," said the Brahmin, surprised to find A person so utterly out of his mind, "'Tis certain that _you_ or _I_ am blind."

6. Then stepping up, Patting the pup, Rogue the second, as if amazed, While on the dog he steadily gazed, Exclaims aloud:--"The gods be praised! Since I've no need to market to go To buy me a sheep; for here's one so From spot and blemish perfectly free, That better could not possibly be. Isn't it nice? What's your price?"

7. The Brahmin, seeing this singular thing, Wavered in mind, like one in a swing; Yet answered the stranger, firmly,--"Sir, This isn't a sheep, but only a cur." "_Cur_?" with disdain, the new-comer said; "Why, man, you're surely out of your head!"

8. As this occurred, Came rogue the third, To whom, as being a witness new, And likely to take impartial view, Brahmin proposed at once to refer, Whether the creature was _sheep_ or _cur_. All being agreed, the eager priest Said:--"Stranger, what do you call this beast?" "A _sheep_, to be sure!" the knave replied; "As fine a sheep as ever you spied."

9. "Well," said the Brahmin, "the gods this day Have surely taken my senses away!" Then begging the rogue That carried the dog, To pardon him for doubting his word, He, with a readiness most absurd, Purchased the creature with rice and ghee, Which went, of course, to the worthless three, And which they shared with wonderful glee.

10. Thus taken in, The poor Brahmin Offered it up, The filthy pup, Which so offended the gods, that they Sent sore disease his folly to pay: Thinking it right the man to chastise For so distrusting his natural eyes, And being led by palpable lies To offer a dog as a sacrifice.

MORAL.

Look out for the arts of the puffing tribe,-- People that praise for the sake of a bribe; Lavishly lauding a book or a pill, Or any thing else the pocket to fill; Singing Simplicity fast asleep, And making her dream a dog's a sheep.

QUESTIONS.--1. What trick did the three rogues play off on the Brahmin? 2. In what way did they do this? 3. What moral is taught in this fable?

* * * * *

LESSON CXVII.

E LAS TIC' I TY, returning vigor. MIN' I FIES, lessens; makes small. DEG RA DA' TION, abasement. ES TRANGED, alienates. UN ALMS' ED, not having received alms. HA BIT' U AL, accustomed. EX TRAV' A GANCE, superfluous expense. IM PER' TI NENCE, that which is not pertinent. SUS PI' CIOUS, distrustful. E CON' O MY, frugality. TRAN' QUIL, calm; undisturbed. BE NUMB' ING, dull; stupefying. IM PROV' I DENCE, wastefulness.

LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS.

S.W. PARTRIDGE.

1. _Oh, beware of debt_! It crushes out the manhood of a man, Robs his bright eye of boldness, cheats his limbs Of elasticity, unnerves his hand, Beclouds his judgment, dulls his intellect, Perils his uprightness, and stains his name, And minifies him to his fellow-men; Yea, far worse degradation, to himself.

2. Who hath the hurried step, the anxious eye, Avoids the public haunt and open street, And anxious waits for evening? Restlessly Tosses upon his bed, and dreads the approach Of the tell-tale morning sunlight? Who, unmanned, Starts at the sudden knock, and shrinks with dread E'en at his own shadow; shuns with care The stranger's look, skulks from his fellow's glance, And sees in every man a creditor?

3. The _debtor_;--he is only half a man; He saddens and estranges his chief friends, Burdens his dearest relatives; he hears In vain the stranger's tale, the widow's prayer, And sends away the orphan all unalmsed. None dare to place him in a post of trust, And business men regard him with a shrug.

4. "Owe no man aught." Stand in the world erect, And lean alone upon thyself and God. The habitual borrower will be ever found Wicked, or weak, or both. Sweat, study, stint, Yea, rather _any thing_ than meanly owe. Let thine own honest hands feed thee and thine, And, if not thy friend's purse, at least, respect Thine own sweet independence.

5. Have fewest wants: the book, however good, Thou shouldst not purchase, let it go unbought; And fashion's vests by thee be all unworn. Soon luxuries become necessities, But self-denying thrift more joy affords Than all the pleasures of extravagance. A cottage, free from clamorous creditors, Is better than a mansion dunned; a coat, However darned, if paid for, hath an ease, And a respectability beside: Gay, ill-afforded vests can never boast.

6. However cheap, Whatever thou want'st not, buy not. That is dear, A mere extravagant impertinence, For which thou hast no need. Feel first the want Ere it be satisfied; bargains full oft Are money-wasting things, that prudent men Will keep afar from with suspicious eye; Perchance to any but of little use, And to themselves, most likely, none at all.

7. The habit of economy once formed, 'Tis easy to attain to prosperous things. Thou then shalt lend, not borrow: shalt not want A helping trifle when thy friend hath need, Or means to seize an opportunity,-- Seed-coin, to ensure a harvest. Thou shalt then Want not an alms for pinching poverty; And, though a sudden sickness dam the stream, And cut off thy supplies, thou shalt lie down And view thy morrows with a tranquil eye; Even benumbing age shall scare thee not, But find thee unindebted, and secure From all the penury and wretchedness That dog the footsteps of improvidence.

* * * * *

LESSON CXVIII.

OM NIP' O TENT, all-powerful. IN TER' MI NA BLE, endless. MILK Y-WAY, galaxy; luminous circle in the heavens. AS' TRAL, starry. IN FIN' I TUDE, unlimited extent. IM PET' U OUS, rushing. AS TRON O MER, one skilled in the science of the stars. AP PROX' I MATE LY, nearly. OM NIS' CIENCE, knowledge of all things. PER TUR BA' TIONS, irregularities of motion. AB' SO LUTE, entire. PRE CIS' ION, exactness. AD JUST' MENTS, arrangements. RET' I NUE, company. SAT' EL LITES, small planets revolving round others.

GRANDEUR OF THE UNIVERSE.

O.M. MITCHEL.

1. If you would know the _glory_ of the Omnipotent Ruler of the universe, examine the interminable range of suns and systems which crowd the Milky-Way. Multiply the hundred millions of stars which belong to our own "island universe" by the thousands of these astral systems that exist in space, within the range of human vision, and _then_ you may form some idea of the _infinitude_ of His kingdom; for lo! these are but a part of His ways.

2. Examine the scale on which the universe is built. Comprehend, if you can, the vast dimensions of our sun. Stretch outward through his system, from planet to planet, and circumscribe the whole within the immense circumference of Neptune's orbit. This is but a single unit out of the myriads of similar systems.

3. Take the wings of light, and flash with impetuous speed, day and night, and month, and year, till youth shall wear away, and middle age is gone, and the extremest limit of human life has been attained;--count every pulse, and, at each, speed on your way a hundred thousand miles; and when a hundred years have rolled by, look out, and behold! the thronging millions of blazing suns are still around you, each separated from the other by such a distance, that, in this journey of a century, you have only left half a score behind you.

4. Would you gather some idea of the _eternity_ past of God's existence,--go to the astronomer, and bid him lead you in one of his walks through space; and, as he sweeps outward from object to object, from universe to universe, remember that the light from those filmy stains on the deep pure blue of heaven, now falling on your eye, has been traversing space for a million of years.

5. Would you gather some knowledge of the _omnipotence_ of God,--weigh the earth on which we dwell, then count the millions of its inhabitants that have come and gone for the last six thousand years. Unite their strength into one arm, and test its power in an effort to move this earth. It could not stir it a single foot in a thousand years; and yet under the omnipotent hand of God, not a minute passes that it does not fly more than a thousand miles.

6. But this is a mere atom,--the most insignificant point among his innumerable worlds. At his bidding, every planet, and satellite, and comet, and the sun himself, fly onward in their appointed courses. His single arm guides the millions of sweeping suns, and around His throne circles the great constellation of unnumbered universes.

7. Would you comprehend the idea of the _omniscience_ of God,--remember that the highest pinnacle of knowledge reached by the whole human race, by the combined efforts of its brightest intellects, has enabled the astronomer to compute approximately the perturbations of the planetary worlds. He has predicted roughly the return of half a score of comets. But God has computed the mutual perturbations of millions of suns, and planets, and comets, and worlds, without number, through the ages that are passed, and throughout the ages which are yet to come, not approximately, but with perfect and absolute precision.

8. The universe is in motion,--system rising above system, cluster above cluster, nebula above nebula,--all majestically sweeping around under the providence of God, who alone knows the end from the beginning, and before whose glory and power all intelligent beings, whether in heaven or on earth, should bow with humility and awe.

9. Would you gain some idea of the _wisdom_ of God,--look to the admirable adjustments of the magnificent retinue of planets and satellites which sweep around the sun. Every globe has been weighed and poised, every orbit has been measured and bent to its beautiful form.

10. All is changing; but the laws fixed by the wisdom of God, though they permit the rocking to and fro of the system, never introduce disorder, or lead to destruction. All is perfect and harmonious, and the music of the spheres that burn and roll around our sun, is echoed by that of ten millions of moving worlds, that sing and shine around the bright suns that reign above.