Chapter 4

He said, and on the rampart hights arrayed His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; (_sl_) Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, (_pp_) Still as the breeze, ([oo]) but dreadful as the storm! (_p_.) Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, (_ff_.) REVENGE, or DEATH!--the watchword and reply; (oo) Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, (_f_.) And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm! CAMPBELL.

([o]') His speech was at first low toned and slow. Sometimes his voice would deepen, ([oo]) like the sound of distant thunder; and anon, (_''_) his flashes of wit and enthusiasm would light up the anxious faces of his hearers, (<) like the far-off lightning of a coming storm.

(>) Receding now, the dying numbers ring (_p_.) Fainter and fainter, down the rugged dell: (_pp_.) And now 'tis silent all--enchantress, fare thee well.

(=) Oh, joy to the world! the hour is come, When the nations to freedom awake, When the royalists stand agape and dumb, And monarchs with terror shake! Over the walls of majesty, "Upharsin" is writ in words of fire, And the eyes of the bondmen, wherever they be, Are lit with their wild desire. (<) Soon, soon shall the thrones that blot the world, Like the Orleans, into the dust be hurl'd, And the world roll on, like a hurricane's breath, Till the farthest nation hears what it saith.-- (_ff_.) "ARISE! ARISE! BE FREE!" T.B. READ.

(_p_.[o]) Tread softly--bow the head,-- In reverent silence bow,-- No passing bell doth toll,-- (_pl_.) Yet an immortal soul Is passing now. MRS. SOUTHEY.

(o[_f_].) SPEAK OUT, my friends; would you exchange it for the DEMON'S DRINK, (_ff_.) ALCOHOL? A _shout_, like the _roar_ of a tempest, answered, (oo) NO!

(oo) The combat deepens! (_ff_.) ON! YE BRAVE! (=) Who rush to GLORY, (_p_.) or the GRAVE! (_ff_.) WAVE, _Munich_, all thy banners WAVE! And CHARGE with all thy CHIVALRY! (_pl_.) Ah! few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding sheet, And every turf beneath their feet (_sl._[o]) Shall be a soldier's sepulcher! CAMPBELL.

(_sl_.) At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks, (oo) "LAND! LAND!" cry the sailors; (_ff_.) "LAND! LAND!"--he awakes,-- (_''_) He runs,--yes! behold it! it blesseth his sight! THE LAND! _O, dear spectacle! transport! delight!_

SECTION V.

THE RHETORICAL PAUSE.

RHETORICAL PAUSES are those which are frequently required by the voice in reading and speaking, although the construction of the passage admits of no grammatical point.

These pauses should be as manifest to the ear, as those which are indicated by the comma, semicolon, or other grammatical points, though not commonly denoted by any visible sign. In the following examples they are denoted thus, (||).

EXAMPLES.

1. In slumbers of midnight || the sailor-boy lay, His hammock swung loose || at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, || his cares flew away, And visions of happiness || danced o'er his mind. DIMOND.

2. There is a land, || of every land the pride, Beloved of heaven || o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns || dispense serener light, And milder moons || imparadise the night. O, thou shalt find, || howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, || and that spot thy home!

This pause is generally made before or after the utterance of some important word or clause on which it is especially desired to fix the attention. In such cases it is usually denoted by the use of the dash (--).

EXAMPLES.

1. God said--"_Let there be light!_"

2. All dead and silent was the earth, In deepest night it lay; The Eternal spoke creation's word, And called to being--Day!

No definite rule can be given with reference to the length of the rhetorical, or grammatical pause. The correct taste of the reader or speaker must determine it. For the voice should sometimes be suspended much longer at the same pause in one situation than in another; as in the two following

EXAMPLES.

LONG PAUSE.

Pause a moment. I heard a footstep. Listen now. I heard it again; but it is going from us. It sounds fainter,--still fainter. It is gone.

SHORT PAUSE.

John, be quick. Get some water. Throw the powder overboard. "It can not be reached." Jump into the boat, then. Shove off. There goes the powder. Thank Heaven. We are safe.

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REMARKS TO TEACHERS.

It is of the utmost importance, in order to secure an easy and elegant style in reading, to refer the pupil often to the more important principles involved in a just elocution. To this end, it will be found very advantageous, occasionally to review the rules and directions given in the preceding pages, and thus early accustom him to apply them in the subsequent reading lessons. For a wider range of examples and illustrations, it is only necessary to refer to the numerous and various exercises which form the body of this book. They have been selected, in many cases, with a special view to this object.

PART SECOND.

LESSON I.

HER' O ISM, bravery; courage. MA LI'' CIOUS, ill disposed; resentful. AM BI'' TION, eager desire. SAR CAS' TIC, severe; cutting. DE RIS' ION, ridicule. CON FER' RED, bestowed. RES' CU ED, saved; preserved. DIS AS' TER, calamity. IN CLIN' ED, disposed. SYM' PA THY, fellow-feeling. TEN' DER ED, offered. A POL' O GY, excuse.

TRUE HEROISM.

OSBORNE.

1. I shall never forget a lesson which I received when quite a young lad, while attending an Academy. Among my schoolmates were Hartly and Vincent. They were both older than myself, and Vincent was looked up to, as a sort of leader in matters of opinion, and in directing our sports.

2. He was not, at heart, a malicious boy; but he had a foolish ambition of being thought witty and sarcastic; and he made himself feared by a habit of turning things into ridicule. He seemed to be constantly looking out for something to occur, which he could turn into derision.

3. Hartly was a new scholar, and little was known of him among the boys. One morning as we were on our way to school, he was seen driving a cow along the road toward the pasture. A group of boys, among whom was Vincent, met him as he was passing.

4. "Now," said Vincent, "let us have a little sport with our country rustic." So saying, he exclaimed: "Halloo, Jonathan! [Footnote: A title frequently applied to the Yankees by the English.] what is the price of milk? What do you feed her on? What will you take for all the gold on her horns? Boys, if you want to see the latest Paris style, look at those boots!"

5. Hartly waved his hand at us with a pleasant smile, and, driving the cow to the field, took down the bars of a rail-fence, saw her safely in the pasture, and then, putting up the bars, came and entered the school with the rest of us. After school, in the afternoon, he let out the cow, and drove her away, none of us knew where. Every day, for two or three weeks, he went through the same task.

6. The boys who attended the Academy, were nearly all the sons of wealthy parents, and some of them were foolish enough to look down, with a sort of disdain, upon a scholar who had to drive a cow to pasture; and the sneers and jeers of Vincent were often repeated.

7. One day, he refused to sit next to Hartly in school, on a pretense that he did not like the odor of the barn. Sometimes he would inquire of Hartly after the cow's health, pronouncing the word "ke-ow," after the manner of some people.

8. Hartly bore all these silly attempts to wound his feelings and annoy him, with the utmost good nature. He never once returned an angry look or word. One time, Vincent said: "Hartly, I suppose your father intends to make a milkman of you."

9. "Why not?" said Hartly. "Oh, nothing," said Vincent; "only do not leave much water in the cans after rinsing them--that's all!" The boys laughed, and Hartly, not in the least mortified, replied: "Never fear; if I ever rise to be a milkman, I will give _good measure_ and _good milk_ too."

10. A few days after this conversation, there was a public exhibition, at which a number of ladies and gentlemen from the city, was present. Prizes were awarded by the Principal of the Academy, and Hartly and Vincent each received one; for, in respect to scholarship, they were about equal.

11. After the prizes were distributed, the Principal remarked that there was _one prize_, consisting of a medal, which was _rarely_ awarded, not so much on account of its great value, as because the instances are _rare_ that merit it. It is THE PRIZE FOR HEROISM. The last boy on whom it was conferred, was Master Manners, who, three years ago, rescued the blind girl from drowning.

12. The Principal then said, "With the permission of the company, I will relate a short story. Not long since, some boys were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor boy on horseback rode by, on his way to mill. The horse took fright, and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he was carried home, and confined for some weeks to his bed.

13. "None of the boys who had caused the disaster, followed to learn the fate of the wounded boy. There was one, however, who witnessed the accident from a distance, and went to render what service he could. He soon learned that the wounded boy was the grandson of a poor widow, whose only support consisted in selling the milk of a fine cow, of which she was the owner.

14. "Alas! what could she now do? She was old and lame, and her grandson, on whom she depended to drive the cow to pasture, was now sick and helpless. 'Never mind, good woman,' said the boy, 'I can drive your cow.' With thanks, the poor widow accepted his offer.

15. "But the boy's kindness did not stop here. Money was wanted to purchase medicine. 'I have money that my mother sent me to buy a pair of boots,' said the boy; 'but I can do without them for the present.'

16. "'Oh, no!' said the old lady, 'I can not consent to that; but here is a pair of cowhide boots that I bought for Henry, who can not wear them. If you will buy them, giving me what they cost, I can get along very well.' The boy bought the boots, clumsy as they were, and has worn them up to this time.

17. "When the other boys of the Academy saw this scholar driving a cow to the pasture, he was assailed with laughter and ridicule. His thick cowhide boots, in particular, were made matters of mirth. But he kept on cheerfully and bravely, day after day, driving the widow's cow to the pasture, and wearing his thick boots, contented in the thought that he was _doing right_, not caring for all the jeers and sneers that could be uttered.

18. "He never undertook to explain why he drove the cow; for he was not inclined to display his charitable motives, and besides, in heart, he had no sympathy with the false pride that looks with ridicule on any useful employment. It was by _mere accident_ that his course of conduct and self-denial, was yesterday discovered by his teacher.

19. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you. Was there not _true heroism_ in this boy's conduct? Nay, Master Hartly, do not steal out of sight behind the blackboard! You were not ashamed of _ridicule_--you must not shun _praise. Come forth, come forth, Master Edward James Hartly, and let us see your honest face!_"

20. As Hartly, with blushing cheeks, made his appearance, the whole company greeted him with a round of applause for his _heroic conduct_. The ladies stood upon benches, and waved their handkerchiefs. The old men clapped their hands, and wiped the moisture from the corners of their eyes. Those clumsy boots on Hartly's feet seemed prouder ornaments, than a crown would have been on his head. The medal was bestowed on him, amid the applause of the whole company.

21. Vincent was heartily ashamed of his ill-natured sneers, and, after the school was dismissed, he went, with tears in his eyes, and tendered his hand to Hartly, making a handsome apology for his past ill manners. "Think no more about it," said Hartly; "let us all go and have a ramble in the woods, before we break up for vacation." The boys, one and all, followed Vincent's example, and then, with shouts and huzzas, they all set forth into the woods--a happy, cheerful group.

QUESTIONS.--1. In what way did Vincent try to make derision of Hartly? 2. How did Hartly receive it? 3. For what did Hartly receive a prize from his teacher? 4. How did the spectators manifest their approbation of Hartly's conduct?

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LESSON II.

A VERT' ED, turned aside. RE PENT' ANT, contrite; sorrowful. SIN CERE', honest; true-hearted. SE VERE', harsh; rigid TAUNTS, scoffs; insults. PLATE, dishes of gold or silverware. DE SERT', forsake; abandon. FAIL' URE, want of success. SID' ING, taking part. TYR' AN NY, oppression; cruelty.

YOU AND I.

CHARLES MACKAY.

1. Who would scorn his humble fellow For the coat he wears? For the poverty he suffers? For his daily cares? Who would pass him in the foot-way With averted eye? Would you, brother'? No`,--you _would_ not. If _you_ would,--not _I_.

2. Who, when vice or crime repentant, With a grief sincere, Asked for pardon, would refuse it, More than heaven severe? Who, to erring woman's sorrow, Would with taunts reply? Would _you_, brother'! No`,--you _would_ not. If _you_ would,--not _I_.

3. Would you say that Vice is Virtue In a hall of state'? Or, that rogues are not dishonest If they dine off plate'? Who would say Success and Merit Ne'er part company? Would _you_, brother'? No`,--you _would_ not. If _you_ would,--not _I_.

4. Who would give a cause his efforts When the cause is strong; But desert it on its failure, Whether right or wrong`? Ever siding with the upmost, Letting downmost lie? Would _you_, brother'? No`,--you _would_ not. If _you_ would,--not _I_.

5. Who would lend his arm to strengthen Warfare with the right`? Who would give his pen to blacken Freedom's page of light`? Who would lend his tongue to utter Praise of tyranny? Would _you_, brother'? No`,--you _would_ not. If _you_ would,--not _I_.

QUESTIONS.--1. What rule for the rising and falling inflections, first verse? See page 28. 2. Repeat the rule. 3. What rule for the falling inflections, fifth verse? See page 29. 4. Repeat the rule. What is the meaning of the suffix _en_, in the words _strengthen_, _blacken?_ See SANDERS and McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH WORDS, p. 132, Ex. 174.

* * * * *

LESSON III.

WAR' FARE, conflict; struggle. CLUTCH ES, paws; firm grasp. DO MIN' ION, rule; sway. PIN' ION, wing; as of a bird. PRE' CIOUS, costly; valuable. SCOFF' ER, scorner. VA' RI ED, changing; different. WAVES, moves to and fro. PRO PHET' IC, (_ph_ like _f_.) foretelling. DE SPISE', scorn; disdain. GOAL, the mark that bounds a race. BECK' ON, motion; invite with the hand.

LIFE'S WORK.

1. _Life is onward:_ use it With a forward aim; Toil is heavenly: choose it, And its warfare claim. Look not to another To perform your will; Let not your own brother Keep your warm hand still.

2. _Life is onward:_ never Look upon the past; It would hold you ever In its clutches fast. _Now_ is your dominion; Weave it as you please; Bid not the soul's pinion To a bed of ease.

3. _Life is onward:_ try it, Ere the day is lost; It hath virtue: buy it, At whatever cost. If the World should offer Every precious gem, Look not at the scoffer, Change it not for them.

4. _Life is onward:_ heed it, In each varied dress; Your own _act_ can speed it On to happiness. His bright pinion o'er you Time waves not in vain, If Hope chant before you Her prophetic strain.

5. _Life is onward:_ prize it, In sunshine and in storm; Oh! do not despise it In its humblest form. Hope and Joy together, Standing at the goal, Through life's darkest weather Beckon on the soul.

QUESTIONS.--1. What do _it_ and _them_ refer to, third verse, last line? 2. Repeat the word _sunshine_ several times in quick succession.

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LESSON IV.

AC CUS' TOM ED, used; habituated. PLAN TA' TIONS, settlements. PRO TEC' TION, safety; defense. RE PROACH' FUL, reproving. CAP' TUR ED, taken prisoners. DE CID' ED, concluded. COR O NET, little crown. SA LUT' ED, greeted. MON' ARCH, sovereign; ruler. CON CEAL' ED, hid; secreted. RE STOR' ED, brought back. VI' O LENCE, outrage; wrong. RE BUK' ED, reproved. LEAGUE, compact; alliance. TER' RI BLE, fearful; dreadful. AT TEND' ANT, waiter; servant.

THE YOUNG CAPTIVES.

1. Many years ago, dining the early settlements in New England, the children were accustomed to gather large quantities of nuts, which grew in great abundance in the forests that surrounded their little plantations.

2. In one of these nut-gatherings, a little boy and girl, the one eight and the other four years of age, whose mother was dead, became separated from their companions. On their way home, they came across some wild grapes, and were busily engaged in gathering them, till the last rays of the setting sun were fading away.

3. Suddenly they were seized by two Indians. The boy struggled violently, and his little sister cried to him for protection; but in vain. The Indians soon bore them far beyond the bounds of the settlement. Night was far advanced before they halted. Then they kindled a fire, and offered the children some food.

4. The heart of the boy swelled high with grief and anger, and he refused to eat. But the poor little girl took some parched corn from the hand of the Indian who held her on his knee. He smiled as he saw her eat the kernels, and look up in his face with a wondering, yet reproachful eye. Then they lay down to sleep in the dark forest, each with an arm over his little captive.

5. Great was the alarm in the colony when these children did not return. Every spot was searched, where it was thought possible they might have lost their way. But when, at length, their little basket was found, overturned in a tangled thicket, they came to the conclusion that they must have been captured by the Indians.

6. It was decided that before any warlike measures were adopted, the father should go peacefully to the Indian king, and demand his children. At the earliest dawn of morning he departed with his companions. They met a friendly Indian pursuing the chase, who consented to be their guide.

7. They traveled through rude paths, until the day drew near a close. Then, approaching a circle of native dwellings, in the midst of which was a tent, they saw a man of lofty form, with a coronet of feathers upon his brow, and surrounded by warriors. The guide saluted him as his monarch, and the bereaved father, bowing down, thus addressed him:

8. "King of the red men, thou seest a father in pursuit of his lost children. He has heard that your people will not harm the stranger in distress. So he trusts himself fearlessly among you. The king of our own native land, who should have protected us, became our foe. We fled from our dear homes--from the graves of our fathers.

9. "The ocean wave brought us to this New World. We are a peaceful race, pure from the blood of all men. We seek to take the hand of our red brethren. Of my own kindred, none inhabit this wilderness, save two little buds, from a broken, buried stem.

10. "Last night, sorrow entered into my soul, because I found them not. Knowest thou, O king, if thy people have taken my children'? Knowest thou where they have concealed them'? Cause them, I pray thee, to be restored to my arms. So shall the Great Spirit bless thy own tender plants, and lift up thy heart when it weigheth heavily on they bosom."

11. The Indian monarch, fixing on him a piercing glance, said: "Knowest thou me'? Look in my eyes`! Look`! Answer me`! Are they the eyes of a stranger`!" The bereaved father replied that he had no recollection of having ever before seen his countenance.

12. "Thus it is with the white man. He is dim-eyed. He looketh on the _garments_ more than on the _soul_. Where your plows turn up the earth, oft have I stood watching your toil. There was no coronet on my brow. But I was king. And you knew it not.

13. "I looked upon your people. I saw neither pride nor violence. I went an _enemy_, but returned a _friend_. I said to my warriors, 'Do these men no harm. They do not hate Indians.' Then our white-haired prophet of the Great Spirit rebuked me. He bade me make no league with the pale faces, lest angry words should be spoken of me, among the shades of our buried kings.

14. "Yet, again, I went where thy brethren have reared their dwellings. Yes; I entered thy house. _And thou knowest not this brow'?_ I could tell _thine_ at midnight, if but a single star trembled through the clouds. My ear would know _thy_ voice, though the storm was abroad with all its thunders.

15. "I have said that I was king. Yet I came to thee hungry, and thou gavest me bread. My head was wet with the tempest. Thou badest me lie down on thy couch, and thy son, for whom thou mournest, covered me.

16. "I was sad in spirit, and thy little daughter, whom thou seekest with tears, sat on my knee. She smiled when I told her how the beaver buildeth his house in the forest. My heart was comforted, for I saw that she did not hate Indians.

17. "Turn not on me such a terrible eye. I am no stealer of babes. I have reproved the people who took thy children. I have sheltered them for thee. Not a hair of their head is hurt. Thinkest thou that the red man can forget kindness'? They are sleeping in my tent. Had I but a single blanket, it should have been their bed. Take them, and return unto thy people."

18. He waved his hand to an attendant, and, in a moment, the two children were in the arms of their father. The white men were kindly sheltered for that night, and, the next day, they bore the children to their home, and the people rejoiced at their safe return.

QUESTIONS.--1. By whom wore those children taken captive? 2. Who went in search of them? 3. What did he say to the king of the tribe? 4. What reply did the Indian monarch make? 5. Were the children restored to their father? 6. What is meant by the _New World_, 9th paragraph? 7. What by _two little buds, from a broken, buried stem_, same paragraph?

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LESSON V.

IM' AGE. form; likeness. ELAPS' ED, glided away. WAY' WARD NESS, perverseness. SHUD' DER ING, chilling tremor. PAS' SION ATE, easily excited to anger. MAS' TER Y, rule; sway. HEAD' STRONG, stubborn; obstinate. UN DER WENT', experienced. AF FEC' TION, love; attachment. THRESH' OLD, entrance. ANX I' E TY, care; solicitude. PER PET' U AL, continual.

MY MOTHER'S LAST KISS.

MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

1. I was but five years old when my mother died; but her image is as fresh in my mind, now that twenty years have elapsed, as it was at the time of her death. I remember her, as a pale, gentle being, with a sweet smile, and a voice soft and cheerful when she praised me; and when I had erred, (for I was a wild, thoughtless child,) there was a mild and tender earnestness in her reproofs, that always went to my little heart.