Chapter 5

2. Methinks I can now see her large, blue eyes moist with sorrow, because of my childish waywardness, and hear her repeat: "My child, how can you grieve me so?" She had, for a long time, been pale and feeble, and sometimes there would come a bright spot on her cheek, which made her look so lovely, I thought she must be well. But then she spoke of dying, and pressed me to her bosom, and told me to be good when she was gone, and to love my father, and be kind to him; for he would have no one else to love.

3. I recollect she was ill all day, and my little hobbyhorse and whip were laid aside, and I tried to be very quiet. I did not see her for the whole day, and it seemed very long. At night, they told me my mother was too sick to kiss me, as she always had done before I went to bed, and I must go without it. But I could not. I stole into the room, and placing my lips close to hers, whispered: "Mother, dear mother, won't you kiss me?"

4. Her lips were very cold, and when she put her hand upon my cheek, and laid my head on her bosom, I felt a cold shuddering pass all through me. My father carried me from the room; but he could not speak. After they put me in bed, I lay a long while thinking; I feared my mother would, indeed, die; for her cheek felt cold, as my little sister's did when she died, and they carried her little body away where I never saw it again. But I soon fell asleep.

5. In the morning I rushed to my mother's room, with a strange dread of evil to come upon me. It was just as I feared. A white linen covered her straight, cold form. I removed it from her face: her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were hard and cold. But my mother's dear, dear smile was there, or my heart would have broken.

6. In an instant, all the little faults, for which she had so often reproved me, rushed upon my mind. I longed to tell her how good I would always be, if she would but stay with me. I longed to tell her how, in all time to come, her words would be a law to me. I would be all that she had wished me to be.

7. I was a passionate, headstrong boy; and never did this frame of temper come upon me, but I seemed to see her mild, tearful eyes full upon me, just as she used to look in life; and when I strove for the mastery over my passions, her smile seemed to cheer my heart, and I was happy.

8. My whole character underwent a change, even from the moment of her death. Her spirit seemed to be always with me, _to aid the good_ and _root out the evil_ that was in me. I felt it would grieve her gentle spirit to see me err, and I _could not_, _would not_, do so.

9. I was the child of her affection. I knew she had prayed and wept over me; and that even on the threshold of the grave, her anxiety for my welfare had caused her spirit to linger, that she might pray once more for me. I never forgot my mother's last kiss. It was with me in sorrow; it was with me in joy; it was with me in moments of evil, like a perpetual good.

QUESTIONS.--1. What was the age of the person represented in this piece? 2. What, when his mother died? 3. What did he say of himself when a child? 4. Had he ever grieved his mother? 5. What did he say of his _faults_, after his mother's death? 6. What did he desire to tell her? 7. How ought you to treat your mother, in order to avoid the reproaches of your own conscience?

* * * * *

LESSON VI.

SUR PRISE', amazement. PER' ISH ED, died. STINT' ED, small of size. STERN, severe; harsh; rigid. LOI' TER, linger; tarry. STAG' GER ED, reeled to and fro. FORD' ED, waded. ES CAP ED, fled from.

THE DEAD CHILD'S FORD.

MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

1. "Dear mother, here's the _very_ place Where little John was found, The water covering up his face, His feet upon the ground. Now won't you tell me _all about_ The death of little John'? And how the woman sent him out Long after sun was down'? And tell me _all about the wrong_, And _that_ will make the story long."

2. I took the child upon my knee Beside the lake so clear; For _there_ the tale of misery Young Edward begged to hear He looked into my _very_ eyes, With sad and earnest face, And caught his breath with wild surprise, And turned to mark the place Where _perished_, years agone, the child Alone, beneath the waters wild.

3. "A weakly orphan boy was John, A barefoot, stinted child, Whose work-day task was never done, Who wept when others smiled. Around his home the trees were high, Down to the water's brink, And almost hid the pleasant sky, Where wild deer came to drink." ('') "And did they come, the pretty deer'? And did they drink the water here'?"

4. Cried Edward, with a wondering eye: "Now, mother, tell to me, Was John about as _large_ as I'? Pray tell, how _big_ was he'?" "He was an _older_ boy than _you_, And _stouter_ every way; For, water from the well he drew, And hard he worked all day. But then poor John was sharp and thin, With sun-burnt hair and sun-burnt skin.

5. "His mother used to spin and weave; From farm to farm she went; And, though it made her much to grieve, She John to service sent. He lived with one, a woman stern, Of hard and cruel ways; And he must bring her wood to burn, From forest and highways; And then, at night, on cold, hard bed, He laid his little, aching head.

6. "The weary boy had toiled all day With heavy spade and hoe; His mistress met him on the way, And bade him quickly go And bring her home some sticks of wood, For she would bake and brew; When he returned, she'd give him food; For she had much to do. And then she charged him not to stay, Nor loiter long upon the way.

7. "He went; but scarce his toil-worn feet Could crawl along the wood, He was so spent with work and heat, And faint for lack of food. He bent his aching, little back To bear the weight along, And staggered then upon the track; For John was _never_ strong; His eyesight, too, began to fail, And he grew giddy, faint, and pale.

8. "The load was small, _quite_ small, 'tis true, But John could bring no more; The woman in a rage it threw,-- She stamped upon the floor. (_f_.) 'No supper you shall have to-night; So go along to bed, You good-for-nothing, ugly fright, You little stupid-head!'" Said Edward: "_I_ would _never_ go; She wouldn't _dare_ to serve _me_ so!"

9. "The moon-beams fell upon the child As, weeping, there he lay; And gusty winds were sweeping wild Along the forest way, When up rose John, at dead of night; For he would see his mother; _She_ loved her child, although _he_ might Be _nothing_ to another. That narrow creek he forded o'er,-- 'Tis nearer than around the shore.

10. "But here the shore is rough, you see; The bank is high and steep; And John, who climbed on hands and knee, His footing could not keep. He backward fell, all, all alone; Too weak was he to rise; (_pl._) And no one heard his dying moan, Or closed his dying eyes. How still he slept! And grief and pain Could never come to him again.

11. "A stranger, passing on his way, Found him, as you have said; His feet were out upon the clay, The water o'er his head. And then his foot-prints showed the path He took, adown the creek, When he escaped the woman's wrath, So hungry, faint, and weak. And people now, as you have heard, Do call the place, THE DEAD CHILD'S FORD."

QUESTIONS.--1. Was John an orphan, or half orphan? 2. Was he drowned at night, or in the daytime? 8. By whom was he found? 4. What is the place called where he was drowned? 5. Give the rule for the rising inflections, as marked in the 1st, 2d, and 4th verses. 6. Why are there no quotation marks at the beginning of the 2d verse? 7. Why are half quotations used in the 3d and 8th verses? 8. How should a part of the 8th and 10th verses be read, according to the notation marks? See page 41.

* * * * *

LESSON VII.

EX CLAIM' ED, cried out. DE MAND' ING, asking; requiring. A MISS', wrong; improperly. AC CUS' ED, charged with. BREACH, violation. VIS' ION, sight; view. DE SCRIP' TION, account. SLUG' GARD, lazy person.

LAME AND LAZY,--A FABLE.

[Footnote: For an explanation of the term fable, see page 236.]

1. Two beggars, LAME and LAZY, were in want of bread. _One_ leaned on his crutch, the _other_ reclined on his couch. Lame called on Charity, and humbly asked for a _cracker_. Instead of a cracker, he received a _loaf_.

2. Lazy, seeing the gift of Charity, exclaimed: "What`! ask a _cracker_ and receive a _loaf'_? Well, I will ask a loaf." Lazy now applied to Charity, and called for a loaf of bread. "Your demanding a loaf," said Charity, "proves you a _loaf_-er. You are of that class and character who _ask_ and _receive not_; because you ask amiss."

3. Lazy, who always found fault, and had rather whine than work, complained of _ill-treatment_, and even accused Charity of a breach of an exceeding great and precious promise: "Ask, and ye shall receive."

4. Charity pointed him to a painting in her room, which presented to his vision three personages, Faith, Hope and Charity. Charity appeared larger and fairer than her sisters. He noticed that her right hand held a pot of honey, which fed a bee disabled, having lost its wings. Her left hand was armed with a whip to keep off the drones.

5. "I do not understand it," said Lazy. Charity replied: "It means that Charity _feeds_ the lame, and _flogs_ the lazy." Lazy turned to go. "Stop," said Charity, "instead of _coin_, I will give you _counsel_. Do not go and live on your poor mother; I will send you to a _rich ant_."

6. "_Rich aunt'_?" echoed Lazy. "Where shall I find her'?" "You will find a description of her," replied Charity, "in Proverbs, sixth chapter, sixth, seventh, and eighth verses, which read as follows: 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which, having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provided her meat in summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.'"

7. MORAL. Instead of waiting and wishing for a rich UNCLE to _die_, go and see how a rich ANT _lives_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Where is the quotation in the 3d paragraph to be found? Answer. John, 16th chapter, 24th verse. 2. Where, the quotation in the sixth paragraph? 3. Why does it commence with a half quotation? Answer. Because it denotes a quotation within a quotation.

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LESSON VIII.

HAUGH'TY, proud; disdainful. PAR TIC' U LAR LY, especially. TRANS ACT', do; perform. A BASH' ED, confused. DIS COV' ER, find out. EX AM' INE (_egz am' in_), look over; inspect. REC' TI FY, correct; make right. REC' OM PENSE, reward. DE SERVES', merits. DE CLIN' ING, failing. PRE VENT' ED, hindered. AP PRO BA' TION, approval. PRE'CEPTS, instructions; counsels. BEN E FAC' TOR, friend; one that benefits. A MASS' ED, gathered. A DAPT' ED, suited. CON FI DEN' TIAL, trusty; trusted. IN TEG' RI TY, honesty.

FAITHFULNESS IN LITTLE THINGS.

ELIZA A. CHASE.

1. "Is Mr. Harris in'?" inquired a plainly, but neatly dressed boy, twelve or thirteen years of age, of a clerk, as he stood by the counter of a large bookstore.

The clerk regarded the boy with a haughty look, and answered: "Mr. Harris is in; but he is engaged."

2. The boy looked at the clerk hesitatingly, and then said: "If he is not particularly engaged, I would like to see him."

"If you have any business to transact, _I_ can attend to it," replied the clerk. "Mr. Harris can not be troubled with boys like you."

3. "What is this, Mr. Morley?" said a pleasant-looking man, stepping up to the clerk; "what does the boy want?"

"He insisted on seeing you, though I told him you were engaged," returned the clerk, a little abashed by the manner of his employer.

4. "And what do you wish to see me about, my lad?" inquired Mr. Harris, kindly.

The boy raised his eyes, and, meeting the scornful glance of the clerk, said timidly: "I wish you to look at the bill of some books which I bought here, about three months since. There is a mistake in it, which I wish to correct."

5. "Ah, my boy, I see," replied Mr. Harris; "you have _overpaid_ us, I suppose!"

"No, sir," answered the boy. "On the contrary, I purchased some books which are _not charged_ in the bill, and I have called to pay for them."

6. Mr. Harris looked at the boy earnestly for a moment, and then asked: "When did you discover this mistake?"

"Not until I reached home," replied the lad. "When I paid for the books I was in a great hurry, fearing the boat would leave before I could reach it, and I did not examine the bill."

7. "Why did you not return before, and rectify the mistake?" asked the gentleman, in a tone slightly altered.

"Because, sir, I live some distance from the city, and have not been able to return till now."

8. "My dear boy," said Mr. Harris, "you have given me great pleasure. In a long life of mercantile business, I have never met with an instance of this kind before. You have _acted nobly_ and deserve a recompense."

"I ask no recompense," returned the boy. "_I have done nothing but my duty_--a simple act of justice, and that deserves no reward, but itself."

9. "May I ask who taught you such noble principles'?" inquired Mr. Harris.

"My mother'," answered the boy, bursting into tears.

10. "Blessed is the child who has such a mother," said Mr. Harris, "and blessed is the mother of such a child. Be faithful to her teachings, my dear boy, and you will be the staff of her declining years."

"Alas, sir," said the boy, "my mother is dead! It was her sickness and death which prevented me from coming here before."

11. "What is your name?" inquired Mr. Harris.

"Edward Delong."

"Have you a father living'?"

"No, sir. My father died when I was an infant."

12. "Where do you reside?"

"In the town of Linwood, about fifty miles from this city."

"Well, my boy, what are the books which were forgotten?"

"Tacitus and a Latin Dictionary."

13. "Let me see the bill. Ha! signed by A. C. Morley. I will see to that. Here, Mr. Morley!" called Mr. Harris; but the clerk was busily engaged in waiting on a customer at the opposite side of the store, bowing and smiling in the most attentive manner.

14. "Edward," continued Mr. Harris, "I am not going to _reward_ you for what you have done; but I wish to manifest my approbation of your conduct in such a manner, as to make you remember the wise and excellent precepts of your departed mother. Select from my store any ten books you choose, which, in addition to the two you had before, shall be a _present_ to you; and henceforth, as now, my boy, remember and not 'despise the day of small things.' If ever you need a friend, call on me, and I will assist you."

15. The grateful boy thanked his kind benefactor, and, with tears in his eyes, bowed and left the store.

Edward Delong wished for knowledge, and, though the scanty means left him by his mother, could hardly satisfy his desire, by diligence and economy he had advanced far beyond most boys of his age. By working nights and mornings for a neighbor, he had amassed, what seemed to him, a large sum of money, and this was expended in books.

16. Edward's home was now with a man who regarded money as the chief end and aim of life, and severe and constant physical labor as the only means of obtaining that end. For two years Edward struggled with his hopeless condition, toiling early and late to obtain a livelihood.

17. Edward now resolved to go to the city, to seek some employment, better adapted to promote his education. He entered the same store where he purchased the books, and inquired for Mr. Harris.

"He is engaged," replied the polite clerk. "If you will wait a moment, he will be at liberty."

18. "Did you wish to see me?" asked Mr. Harris of the boy, whose thoughts were so intense that he had not noticed the approach of his friend.

"Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Edward, and it was all he could say. For the remembrance of past favors bestowed on him by his kind benefactor, so filled his heart with gratitude, that further utterance was denied.

"My noble Edward!" said the old gentleman. "And so you needed a friend. Well, you shall have one."

19. Five years from that time, Edward Delong was the confidential clerk of Mr. Harris, and, in three more, a partner in the firm. The integrity of purpose, which first won the regard of his benefactor, was his guide in after life. Prosperity crowned his efforts, and happiness blessed his heart,--the never-failing result of _faithfulness in little things_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Why did Edward Delong wish to see Mr. Harris? 2. Had he overpaid for the books he purchased? 3. What did he say when Mr. Harris told him he deserved a recompense? 4. What books were not charged in the bill? 5. In what way did Mr. Harris manifest his approval of Edward's conduct? 6. How long after this, before he again called on Mr. Harris? 7. Why could he not, at first, talk with Mr. Harris? 8. What did Edward finally become?

* * * * *

LESSON IX.

GRACE' FUL LY, beautifully. PROUD' LY, splendidly. FOR' EIGN (_for' en_), distant. CLIMES, countries; regions. SYM' BOL, sign; emblem. FEAR' FUL, dreadful; terrible. CAN' NON RY, discharge of cannon. JU' BI LEE, season of public joy. WIT' NESS ED, seen; beheld. NA' TIVE, birth-giving. BOON, gift; blessing. PAR' A DISE, blissful abode.

THE AMERICAN BOY.

SON.

Father, look up, and see that flag! How gracefully it flies! Those pretty stripes, they seem to be A rainbow in the skies.

FATHER.

It is your country's flag, my boy, And proudly drinks the light, O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes, A symbol of our might.

SON.

Father, what fearful noise is that, Now thundering in the clouds? Why do they, cheering, wave their hat, And rush along in crowds?

FATHER.

It is the voice of cannonry, The glad shouts of the free; This is a day of memory, 'Tis FREEDOM'S JUBILEE!

SON.

I wish that _I_ was now a man, _I'd free my country_ too, And cheer as loudly as the rest; But, father, why don't _you_?

FATHER.

I'm getting old and weak; but still My heart is big with joy; I've witnessed many a day like this, Shout you aloud, my boy!

SON.

(oo) HURRAH, FOR FREEDOM'S JUBILEE, God bless our native land! And may _I_ live to hold the boon Of _freedom_ in my hand.

FATHER.

Well done, my boy, grow up, and love The land that gave you birth,-- A land where Freedom loves to dwell,-- A paradise on earth.

QUESTIONS.--1. Of what is our flag a symbol? 2. What is meant by _Freedom's jubilee_? 3. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words _I'd_, _I'm_, _I've_, &c.

* * * * *

LESSON X.

BIL' LOWS, waves; surges. DE LIGHT', joy; pleasure. DOOM, fate; end. TWINK' LES, sparkles. GLARE, bright, dazzling light. EX PANSE', surface; extent. SWEEP, pass or drive over. RIFE, filled; abounding. VOY' AGE, passage; journey. AN' CHOR ED, moored; fixed. HA' VEN, harbor. PEACE' FUL LY, quietly; calmly.

THE SAILOR BOY'S SONG.

WRITTEN BY A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE.

1. (_''_) Oh! the sea, the sea Is the place for me, With its billows blue and bright; I love its roar, As it breaks on the shore, And its danger to me is delight.

2. Oh! I love the wave, And the sailor brave, Who often meets his doom On the ocean vast, And sleeps his last In a shell and coral tomb.

3. And, in the night, The moon's soft light Smiles sweetly on the foamy billow: And many a star, As it twinkles afar, Seems to rise from a watery pillow.

4. In the noontide glare, Oh! bright and fair Is the wide expanse of ocean; In the morn's first light 'Tis a glorious sight, So full of life and motion.

5. When the tempests sweep The rolling deep, And the angry billows swell, I mind not the strife, Which to me is rife With thoughts that I can not tell.

6. When life's voyage is o'er, And I sail no more On the ocean's troubled breast, Safe anchored above, In the haven of love, May the sailor boy peacefully rest.

QUESTIONS.--1. What is meant by _coral tomb_, 2d verse? 2. What, by _watery pillow_, third verse.

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LESSON XI.

FOUN DA' TION, commencement. DO MES' TI CA TED, tamed. FA' VOR ITE, one specially favored. CA RESS' ED, fondled; petted. GAM' BOL ING, skipping; frolicking. IM' PULSE, feeling of excitement. DI LAT' ED, distended. SPEC TA' TORS, observers; lookers on. EN DEAV' OR ED, tried; attempted. ANX' IOUS, very desirous. IN TER CEPT', (INTER, _between_; CEPT, _to take_ or _seize_;) to stop on the way. BE TRAY' ED, showed; disclosed. RE STRAIN' ED, held back; checked. COW' ED, depressed with fear. EN GRAV' ED, cut; inscribed.

In this lesson every pause is marked with its appropriate inflection.

CHASE OF THE PET FAWN.

MISS COOPER.

1. Within twenty years from the foundation of our village', [Footnote: Cooperstown, New York.] the deer had already become scarce', and', in a brief period later', they had almost entirely fled from the country`. One of the last of these beautiful creatures, a pretty little fawn, had been brought in from the woods, when it was very young, and had been nursed and petted by a young lady in the village, until it became completely domesticated.

2. It was graceful, as those little creatures always are, and so gentle and playful that it became a great favorite. Following the different members of the family about, it was caressed and welcomed everywhere. One morning, after gamboling about as usual, until weary, it threw itself down in the sunshine, at the feet of one of its friends, upon the door-step of a store.

3. There came along a countryman, who, for several years, had been a hunter by pursuit, and who still kept several hounds, one of which came to the village with him, on this occasion. The dog, as it approached the place where the fawn lay, suddenly stopped; the little animal saw him, and darted to its feet.

4. It had lived more than half its life among the villagers, and had apparently lost all fear of them; but it now seemed to know instinctively that an enemy was at hand. In an instant, its whole character and appearance seemed changed; all its past habits were forgotten; every wild impulse was awake; its head erect, its nostrils dilated, its eyes flashing.

5. In another instant, before the spectators had thought of the danger, and before its friends could secure it, the fawn was leaping wildly through the street, and the hound in full chase. The by-standers were eager to save it; several persons instantly followed its track; the friends who had long fed and fondled it, were calling the name it had hitherto known; but, in vain.

6. The hunter endeavored to call back his dog; but, with no better success. In half a minute, the fawn had turned the first corner, dashed onward toward the lake, and thrown itself into the water. But, if, for a moment, the startled creature believed itself safe in the lake, it was soon undeceived; for the hound followed in hot and eager chase, while a dozen village dogs joined in the pursuit.