Chapter 8

4. Desirous of keeping the vow he had made, he summoned his officers, and commanded them to make immediate distribution to the poor, of all that the treasury contained, at the time of his return.

5. But his officers, more miserly than himself, and, fearful that they might fall short in their salaries and pensions, began to urge upon the monarch the folly of keeping this rash vow, and the danger of thus involving himself and his kingdom in difficulties.

6. Finding he still remained firm, they took other grounds, and plausibly argued that the troops and other officials needed aid as well as the poor; and, as by the _words_ of his vow, he had bound himself to distribute the contents of the treasury to those who had claim to relief, the public servants certainly came within the required limits.

7. Bewildered by their false logic, and sincerely desirous of doing right, he appealed to a certain sage who dwelt near the royal palace, and determined to abide by his decision.

8. The sage, after hearing the case, only asked the following simple question: "Of whom were you thinking when you made the vow,--the poor, or the public servants?" The monarch replied, "Of the poor." "Then," answered the sage, "it is to the _poor_ you are bound to distribute these funds; for you are not _really_ fulfilling your vow, unless you do that which you intended to do when it was made." The king was satisfied that this was the right decision, and did as the sage advised.

9. Let the young bear in mind that God is a being of truth, requiring truth in the inward heart; and, if they would have His approval, and that of their own consciences, they must avoid not only the _outward_ appearance of falsehood, but the slightest evasion or deceit; and when promises have been made, fulfill not only the _letter_, but the _spirit_ of that which they agreed to perform.

10. Beware of the first and slightest departure from truth, of the least endeavor to deceive, and even of the desire to have others believe what is not so. Let your motto be, _"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."_

QUESTIONS.--1. What happened to a certain Persian king? 2. What vow did he then make? 3. What objection did his officers make to this? 4. What did the king then do? 5. What was the sage's decision? 6. What motto ought you to adopt? 7. What rule for spelling the word _traveling_ with one _l_? See SANDERS & McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 13, Rule 10.

* * * * *

LESSON XXV.

EN TIC' ES, allures; leads astray. PRE TEXT, pretense; false reason. PRO FANE, pollute; defile, TEMP TA' TION, allurement. IN' LY, within; in the heart. DE CLARES, says; asserts. CHAFE, vex; provoke. MAL' ICE, hatred; malevolence. AV' A RICE, excessive love of money. FORE GO', give up; renounce. MAM' MON, god of wealth; riches. IN DIG' NANT, with anger; disdainfully. LU' CRE, gain; profit. EM PRISE', enterprise; undertaking. SURE' TY, security. O VER THROW', subvert; destroy. CON TEMPT', scorn; disdain. SOR' CER ESS, enchantress. EX PEL', (EX, _out_; PEL, _to drive_) drive out; banish. RE SIST', (RE, _again_; SIST, _to stand_,) stand again; hence, to withstand.

See SANDERS and McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 90, Ex. 113; also, page 110, Ex. 142.

WHEN SHALL I ANSWER NO?

J.N. McELLIGOTT.

1. When FALSEHOOD fair entices thee Against the truth to go, No matter what the pretext be, Be thy firm answer,--No!

2. When RASHNESS would thy tongue profane With language vile and low, O, make the gross temptation vain, By answering inly,--No!

3. When PRIDE the silly wish declares, That thou should'st fashion know, And lifts thy head with empty airs, Be wise, and answer,--No!

4. When ENVY would thy spirit chafe, That others prosper so, On calm contentment resting safe, Expel her with a--No!

5. When MALICE foul, or deadly HATE, Would turn thee on a foe, And dark, revengeful thirst create, In horror answer,--No!

6. When sluggish SLEEP, with folded arms, Would make thee health forego, ('')Rise up at once, resist her charms; _Act out_ the answer,--No!

7. When AVARICE would, with heartless speed, Shout out the sight of woe, And whisper joy from Mammon's greed, Indignant answer,--No!

8. When filthy LUCRE lifts her hand, Ungodly gains to show, Though she should promise all the land, Be thy prompt answer,--No!

9. When greedy GAIN, or rash EMPRISE, Would have thee surety go, Keep Wisdom's words [Footnote 1] before thine eyes, And firmly answer,--No!

10. When mad AMBITION would seduce, The _right_ to overthrow, And turn the selfish passions loose, In mercy answer,--No!

11. When foul CONTEMPT of Holy Writ Would in thy bosom sow The wish to be where scorners sit,[Footnote 2] Let Conscience answer,--No!

12. When SIN, indeed, whate'er her style, Would have thee with her go; Stay not to hear the Sorceress vile, But leave her with a--No!

[Footnote 1: Prov., 11th Chap., 15th verse.] [Footnote 2: 1st Psalm, 1st verse.]

* * * * *

LESSON XXVI.

PE RUSE', read; study. AL LOT' TED, assigned. ME RID' I AN, noon; mid-day. GEN' U INE, true; real. ART' FUL, cunning; crafty. MIM' ICK ED, pretended; counterfeited. PRE SIDE', have sway or rule. DE MER' IT, ill-desert; defect. RU' BY, precious stone. PUP' PET, little image. DE TER' MINE, decide; find out. ER' MINE, fine fur--(of the ermine.) CAP' TOR, one who takes a prize. SCEP' TERS, emblems of authority. CHA' RY, careful; wary. MYS' TIC, secret; mysterious.

We have seldom seen any thing so full of wit, truth, and practical wisdom, as this poem inscribed.

TO MASTERS ROBERT AND JOHN.

1. Take this book, my boys, Earnestly peruse it; Much of after lies In the way ye use it: Keep it neat and clean; For, remember, in it, Every stain that's seen, Marks a thoughtless minute.

2. Life is like a book, Time is like a printer, Darting now his look Where has gloomed no winter. Thus he'll look, and on, Till each page allotted, Robert, thee and John, Printed be or blotted.

3. Youth's a sunny beam, Dancing o'er a river, With a flashing gleam, Then away forever. Use it while ye may, Not in childish mourning,-- Not in childish play, But in _useful learning_.

4. As your years attain Life's meridian brightness, Hourly seek and gain _Genuine politeness:_ This lives not in forms, As too many teach us,-- Not in open arms, Not in silken speeches,

5. Not in haughty eye, Not in artful dealing, Not within the sigh Of a mimicked feeling: But its lights preside Rich in nature's splendor, Over honest pride, Gentleness and candor.

6. Slight ye not the soul For the frame's demerit; Oft a shattered bowl Holds a mighty spirit: Never search a breast By thy ruby's glances; Pomp's a puppet guest, Danced by circumstances.

7. What is good and great, Sense can soon determine; Prize it though ye meet, Or in rags or ermine. Fortune's truly blind; Fools may be her captors; But the _wealth of mind_ Stands above their scepters.

8. Value not the lips Swiftest kept in motion, Fleetly-sailing ships Draw no depth of ocean: Snatch the chary gleam, From the cautious knowing For the deepest stream Scarcely lisps 'tis flowing.

9. Cull from bad and good Every seeming flower, Store it up as food For some hungry hour: Press its every leaf, And remember, Johnny, Even weeds the chief May have drops of honey.

10. Pomp and power alone Never make a blessing; Seek not e'en a throne By one wretch distressing. Better toil a slave For the blood-earned penny, Than be rich, and have A curse on every guinea.

11. Think, my gentle boys, Every man a brother! _That's where honor lies,_ Nay, but _greatness_ rather: One's the mystic whole, Lordly flesh won't know it; But the kingly soul, Sees but vice below it.

12. Robert, thoughts like these, Store you more than money; Read them not to please, But to practice, Johnny. Artless though their dress, As an infant's dimple, _Truth is none the less_ _For being truly simple._

QUESTIONS.--1. What did the writer tell Robert and John to do with the book, given them? 2. What use did he tell them to make of Youth?

* * * * *

LESSON XXVII.

AV A RI'' CIOUS, greedy after gain. IN' TI MATE, close in friendship. EA' GER NESS, ardent desire. FRU GAL' I TY, wise economy. AC QUI SI'' TIONS, gains. AF' FLU ENCE, great wealth. SUC' CES SION, regular order. MOIL' ING, drudging; laboring. DIS CON TIN' U ED, ceased. AS SI DU' I TY, untiring diligence. DIS GUST' ED, greatly dissatisfied. IN DULG' ED, gratified. MON' STROUS, very large. SUC CEED' ING, following. MAT' TOCK, pick-ax. UN DER MINE', dig under. O' MEN, sign; token. IM AG' IN ED, conceived.

WHANG, THE MILLER.

GOLDSMITH.

1. Whang, the miller, was naturally avaricious; nobody loved money better than he, or more respected those that had it. When people would talk of a rich man in company, Whang would say, "_I_ know him very well, _he_ and _I_ have been very long acquainted; _he_ and _I_ are intimate."

2. But, if a poor man was mentioned, he had not the least knowledge of the man; he might be very well, for aught _he_ knew; but he was not fond of making many acquaintances, and loved to choose his company.

3. Whang, however, with all his eagerness for riches, was poor. He had nothing but the profits of his mill to support him; but, though these were small, they were certain: while it stood and went, he was sure of eating; and his frugality was such, that he, every day, laid some money by; which he would, at intervals, count and contemplate with much satisfaction.

4. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires; he only found himself above want; whereas he desired to be possessed of affluence. One day, as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed that a neighbor of his had found a pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three nights in succession.

5. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. "Here am I," said he, "toiling and moiling from morning till night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbor Thanks only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. Oh, that I could dream like him! With what pleasure would I dig round the pan! How slyly would I carry it home! Not even my wife should see me! And then, oh the pleasure of thrusting one's hands into a heap of gold up to the elbows!"

6. Such reflections only served to make the miller unhappy. He discontinued his former assiduity; he was quite disgusted with small gains; and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated the wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. Fortune, that was for a long time unkind, at last, however, seemed to smile upon his distress, and indulged him with the wished-for vision.

7. He dreamed that under a certain part of the foundation of his mill, there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He concealed his good luck from every person, as is usual in money-dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its truth. His wishes in this, also, were answered; he still dreamed of the same pan of money, in the very same place.

8. Now, therefore, it was past a doubt; so, getting up early the third morning, he repaired, alone, with a mattock in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part of the wall to which the vision directed. The first omen of success that he met with, was a broken ring; digging still deeper, he turned up a house-tile, quite new and entire.

9. At last, after much digging, he came to a broad flat stone; but then it was so large, that it was beyond his strength to remove it. "_There_," cried he in raptures to himself, "_there it is!_ under this stone, there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must e'en go home to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist me in turning it up." Away, therefore, he goes, and acquaints his wife with every circumstance of their good fortune.

10. Her raptures, on this occasion, may easily be imagined; she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of joy. But these transports, however, did not allay their eagerness to know the exact sum; returning, together, to the place where Whang had been digging, there they found--not, indeed, the expected treasure--but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen!

QUESTIONS.--1. Upon what was Whang, the miller, dependent for support? 2. Why was he not satisfied? 3. What did he say to himself, after the information he had received from a neighbor? 4. What effect had such reflections upon him? 5. What did he dream three nights successively? 6. What did he do? 7. What was the result?

* * * * *

LESSON XXVIII.

PO LITE' NESS, good manners. FI DEL' I TY, faithfulness. IN CU BA' TION, act of hatching eggs. REC RE A' TION, pastime; amusement. DE MURE' LY, gravely; with affected modesty. AP PRE CI A' TION, estimate. LITHE, nimble; flexible. EX' IT, departure; going out. ARCH' I TECTS, (_ch_, like _k_,) builders. SA LI' VA, spittle. SE CRETE', to deposit; produce. CON'' GRE GATE, collect together. FLEDG' ED, furnished with feathers. DO MAIN', realm; kingdom. AC COM MO DA' TIONS, conveniences. MI' GRATE, remove; travel. SPHERE, (_ph_ like _f_,) circuit of action.

CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

1. Every one knows, who lives in the country, what a chimney-swallow is. They are among the birds that seem to love the neighborhood of man. Many birds there are, that nestle confidingly in the protection of their superiors, and are seldom found nesting or breeding far from human habitations.

2. The wren builds close to your door. Sparrows and robins, if well treated, will make their nests right under your window, in some favorite tree, and will teach you, if you choose to go into the business, how to build birds' nests.

3. A great deal of politeness and fidelity may be learned. The female bird is waited upon, fed, cheered with singing, during her incubation, in a manner that might give lessons to the household. Nay, when she needs exercise and recreation, her husband very demurely takes her place, and keeps the eggs warm in the most gentlemanly way.

4. Barn-swallows have a very sensible appreciation of the pleasures of an ample barn. A barn might not be found quite the thing to live in, (although we have seen many a place where we would take the barn sooner than the house,) but it is one of the most charming places in a summer-day to lounge, read, or nap in.

5. And, as you lie on your back upon the sweet-scented hay-mow, or upon clean straw thrown down on the great floor, reading books of natural history, it is very pleasant to see the flitting swallows glance in and out, or course about under the roof, with motion so lithe and rapid as to seem more like the glancing of shadows than the winging of birds. Their mud-nests are clean, if they _are_ made of dirt; and you would never dream, from their feathers, what sort of a house they lived in.

6. But, it was of _chimney-swallows_ that we began to write; and they are just now roaring in the little, stubbed chimney behind us, to remind us of our duty. Every evening we hear them; for a nest of young ones brings the parents in with food, early and late, and every entrance or exit is like a distant roll of thunder, or like those old-fashioned rumblings of high winds in the chimney, which made us children think that all out-of-doors was coming down the chimney in stormy nights.

7. These little architects build their simple nests upon the sides of the chimney with sticks, which they are said to break off from dead branches of trees, though they might more easily pick them up already prepared. But they, doubtless, have their own reasons for cutting their own timber. Then these are glued to the wall by a saliva which they secrete, so that they carry their mortar in their mouths, and use their bills for trowels.

8. When the young are ready to leave, they climb up the chimney to the top, by means of their sharp claws, aided by their tail-feathers, which are short, stiff, and at the end armed with sharp spines. Two broods are reared in a season. From the few which congregate in any one neighborhood, one would not suspect the great numbers which assemble at the end of the season. Audubon estimated that _nine thousand_ entered a large sycamore-tree, every night, to roost, near Louisville, Kentucky.

9. Sometimes the little nest has been slighted in building, or the weight proves too great, and down it comes into the fire-place, to the great amusement of the children, who are all a-fever to hold in their hands these clean, bright-eyed little fellows. Who would suspect that they had ever been bred in such a flue?

10. And it was just this thought that set us to writing. Because a bird lives in a chimney, he need not be _smutty_. There is many a fine feather that lives in a chimney-corner. Nor are birds the _only_ instances. Many men are born in a garret, or in a cellar, who fly out of it, as soon as fledged, as fine as any body. A lowly home has reared many high natures.

11. On these bare sticks, right against the bricks, in this smoky flue, the eggs are laid, the brooding goes on, the young are hatched, fed, grown. But then comes the day when they spread the wing, and the whole heaven is theirs! From morning to night, they can not touch the bounds of their liberty!

12. And, in like manner, it is with the human soul that has learned to know its liberty. Born in a body, pent up, and cramped, it seems imprisoned in a mere smoky flue for passions. But, when once faith has taught the soul that it has wings, then it begins to fly; and flying, finds that all God's domain is its liberty.

13. And, as the swallow that comes back to roost in its hard hole at night, is quite content, so that the morning gives it again all the bright heavens for its soaring-ground, so may men, close quartered and cramped in bodily accommodations, be quite patient of their narrow bounds, for their thoughts may fly out every day gloriously.

14. And as, in autumn, these children of the chimney gather in flocks, and fly away to heavens without a winter, so men shall find a day when they, too, shall migrate; and, rising into a higher sphere, without storm or winter, shall remember the troubles of this mortal life, as birds in Florida may be supposed to remember the northern chills, which drove them forth to a fairer clime.

QUESTIONS.--1. What birds seem to love the neighborhood of man? 2. In what respects may men be like birds?

* * * * *

LESSON XXIX.

The first part of each verse, or that portion read by the _First Voice_, should be expressed in a slow and despondent tone of voice: the second part, or that read by the _Second Voice_, should be expressed in a more sprightly and cheerful manner.

THE DOUBTING HEART.

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

FIRST VOICE.

1. Where are the swallows fled? Frozen and dead, Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore.

SECOND VOICE.

O doubting heart! Far over purple seas, They wait, in sunny ease, The balmy southern breeze, To bring them to their northern homes once more.

FIRST VOICE.

2. Why must the flowers die? Poisoned they lie In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

SECOND VOICE.

O doubting heart! They only sleep below The soft, white ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, To breathe and smile upon you soon again.

FIRST VOICE.

3. The sun has hid its rays These many days; Will dreary hours never leave the earth?

SECOND VOICE.

O doubting heart! The stormy clouds on high Vail the same sunny sky, That soon, (for Spring is nigh,) Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth.

FIRST VOICE.

4. Fair Hope is dead, and light Is quenched in night. What sound can break the silence of despair?

SECOND VOICE.

O doubting heart! The sky is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air.

* * * * *

LESSON XXX.

DECK'ED, dressed; arrayed. TRAIL'ING, hanging down; following one after another. UN FAIL'ING, constant; continually. UN PLI'ANT, stiff; unbending. DE FI'ANT, daring; bidding defiance. VES'PER, evening. CRISP'ER, more brittle. TREAS'URES, wealth; riches. MER'IT, desert; goodness. IN HER'IT, occupy; possess. MOR'SEL, bit; small piece. WAIL'ING, loudly lamenting. RAIL'ING, clamoring.

THE COMING OF WINTER.

T.B. READ.

1. Autumn's sighing, Moaning, dying, Clouds are flying On like steeds; While their shadows O'er the meadows. Walk like widows Decked in weeds.

2. Red leaves trailing, Fall unfailing, Dropping, sailing, From the wood, That, unpliant, Stands defiant, Like a giant Dropping blood.

3. Winds are swelling Round our dwelling, All day telling Us their woe; And, at vesper, Frosts grow crisper, As they whisper Of the snow.

4. From th' unseen land, Frozen inland, Down from Greenland, Winter glides, Shedding lightness Like the brightness When moon-whiteness Fills the tides.

5. Now bright Pleasure's Sparkling measures With rare treasures Overflow! With this gladness Comes what sadness! Oh, what madness, Oh, what woe!

6. Even merit May inherit Some bare garret, Or the ground; Or, a worse ill, Beg a morsel At some door-sill, Like a hound.

7. Storms are trailing, Winds are wailing, Howling, railing, At each door. 'Midst this trailing Howling, railing, List the wailing Of the poor!

QUESTIONS.--1. What is the first sign of the coming of winter? 2. What, the second? 3. What, the third? 4. What are some of the pleasures of winter? 5. What is said of the poor in winter? 6. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words _autumn's, o'er, pleasure's, 'midst,_ &c.?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXI.

LIVE' LONG, whole; entire. EAVES, edges of a roof. E' VEN TIDE, evening. STRIV' EN, struggled; contended. RE LIEV' ED, mitigated; alleviated. WRETCH' ED NESS, distress; destitution. OF FENSE', fault; crime. PEN' I TENCE, repentance; contrition. EL' O QUENT LY, forcibly; persuasively.

CHILD TIRED OF PLAY.

N.P. WILLIS.

1. Tired of play`! tired of play`! What hast thou done this livelong day`? The birds are silent', and so is the bee`; The sun is creeping up steeple and tree`; The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves', And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves'; Twilight gathers', and day is done`,-- How hast them spent it`,--restless one'?