Chapter 9

2. Playing`? But what hast thou done beside, To tell thy mother at eventide`? What promise of morn is left unbroken`? What kind word to thy playmates spoken`? Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven`? How with thy faults has duty striven`? What hast thou learned by field and hill, By greenwood path, and by singing rill`?

3. There will come an eve to a longer day', That will find thee tired`,--but not of play'! And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now, With drooping limbs, and aching brow, And wish the shadows would faster creep, And long to go to thy quiet sleep. _Well_ were it then, if thine aching brow Were as free from sin and shame as now! _Well_ for thee, if thy lip could tell A tale like this, of _a day spent well_.

4. If thine open hand hath relieved distress',-- If thy pity hath sprung to wretchedness',-- If thou hast forgiven the sore offense', And humbled thy heart with penitence',-- If Nature's voices have spoken to thee With her holy meanings eloquently',-- If every creature hath won thy love', From the creeping worm to the brooding dove',-- If never a sad, low-spoken word Hath pled with thy human heart unheard',-- _Then_`, when the night steals on, as now, It will bring relief to thine aching brow, And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest, Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast.

QUESTIONS.--1. What had the child been doing? 2. What questions did the mother ask? 3. What did she tell the child would come? 4. What is meant by _eve to a longer day_, third verse? 5. What, by _quiet sleep_, same verse? 6. What ought we to do in life, in order to have a joyful and peaceful death? 7. What rule for the rising inflection on _restless one_, first verse? See page 32, Note I. 8. What rule for the falling inflection on _playing_, second verse? See page 29, Rule II. 9. What rule for the rising inflections in the fourth verse? Rule V., page 31.

* * * * *

LESSON XXXII.

NORTH-EAST' ERS, north-east winds. EX HAUST' ED, (_x_ like _gz_,) tired out. VIG' I LANT, watchful. DE TECT' ED, discovered. LEE' WARD, pertaining to the part toward which the wind blows. RE CED' ING, retiring; passing away. BRILL' IAN CY, brightness; luster. TILL' ER, bar used to turn the rudder. TORT' URE, anguish of spirit. DE SERT' ED, relinquished; abandoned. RA PID' I TY, speed; swiftness. EN VEL' OP ED, inclosed; covered. GEN' ER A TED, produced. LETH' AR GY, drowsiness; dullness. RES' CUE, deliverance. IN EV' I TA BLY, surely; certainly. ES PY' ING, seeing; discovering. CON' TACT, (CON, _together_; TAC, _touch_,) a touching together; close union.

THE RESCUE.

BY A SEA CAPTAIN.

1. On a bright moonlight night, in the month of February, 1831, when it was intensely cold, the little brig which I commanded, lay quietly at her anchors, inside of Sandy Hook. We had had a hard time, beating about for eleven days off this coast, with cutting north-easters blowing, and snow and sleet falling for the most part of that time.

2. Forward, the vessel was thickly coated with ice, and it was hard work to handle her; as the rigging and sails were stiff, and yielded only when the strength of the men was exerted to the utmost. When we, at length, made the port, all hands were worn down and exhausted.

3. "A bitter cold night, Mr. Larkin," I said to my mate, as I tarried for a short time upon deck. The worthy down-easter buttoned his coat more tightly around him, and, looking up to the moon, replied, "It's a whistler, captain; and nothing can live comfortably out of blankets to-night."

4. "The tide is running out swift and strong, and it will be well to keep a sharp look-out for this floating ice, Mr. Larkin," said I, as I turned to go below. "Ay, ay, sir," responded the faithful mate.

5. About two hours afterward, I was aroused from a sound sleep by the vigilant officer. "Excuse me for disturbing you, captain," said he, as he detected an expression of vexation in my face, "but I wish you would turn out, and come on deck as soon as possible."

6. "What's the matter, Mr. Larkin," said I. "Why, sir, I have been watching a large cake of ice, which swept by at a distance, a moment ago; and I saw something black upon it, something that I thought moved. The moon is under a cloud, and I could not see distinctly; but I believe there is a child floating out to the sea, this freezing night, on that cake of ice."

7. We were on deck before either spoke another word. The mate pointed out, with no little difficulty, the cake of ice floating off to the leeward, with its white, glittering surface broken by a black spot. "Get the glass, Mr. Larkin," said I; "the moon will be out of that cloud in a moment, and then we can see distinctly."

8. I kept my eye upon the receding mass of ice, while the moon was slowly working her way through a heavy bank of clouds. The mate stood by me with the glass; and when the full light fell upon the water with a brilliancy only known in our northern latitudes, I put the glass to my eye. One glance was enough.

9. (_''_)"_Forward, there!_" I hailed at the top of my voice; and, with one bound, I reached the main hatch, and began to clear away the little cutter, which was stowed in the ship's yawl. Mr. Larkin had taken the glass to look for himself, "_There are two children on that cake of ice!_" he exclaimed, as he hastened to assist me in getting out the boat.

10. The men answered my hail, and walked quickly aft. In a short space of time, we launched the cutter, into which Mr. Larkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men, who took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat beside me in the stern sheets.

11. "Do you see that cake of ice with something black upon it, my lads? Put me alongside of that, and I'll give you a month's extra wages when you are paid off," said I to the men.

12. They bent to their oars, but their strokes were uneven and feeble; for they were worn out by the hard duty of the preceding fortnight; and, though they did their best, the boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a losing chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture as he saw how little we gained, cried out, "_Pull, lads! I'll double the captain's prize: two months' extra pay: pull, lads! pull for life!_"

13. A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men were to obey; but the strength of the strong man was gone. One of the poor fellows washed us twice in recovering his oar, and then gave out; and the other was nearly as far gone. Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the deserted oar. "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man; "and, captain, take the other oar; we must row for ourselves."

14. I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped off his coat, and, as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal stroke. It came gently, but firm; and the next moment we were pulling a long, steady stroke; gradually increasing in rapidity, until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks. We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing of the other.

15. Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost touched our knees; and then throwing all our strength into the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch covered by the sweep was gained. Thus we worked at the oars for fifteen minutes; and it seemed to me as many hours. The sweat rolled off in great drops, and I was enveloped in a steam generated from my own body.

16. "Are we almost up to it, Mr. Larkin?" I gasped out. "Almost, captain," said he: "and _don't give up!_ for the love of our dear little ones at home: _don't give up_, captain!" The oars flashed as their blades turned up to the moonlight, for the men who plied them were fathers, and had fathers' hearts.

17. Suddenly Mr. Larkin ceased pulling; and my heart, for a moment, almost stopped its beating; for the terrible thought that he had given out, crossed my mind. But I was re-assured by his voice, (_p_) "Gently, captain, gently: a stroke or two more: there, that will do;" and the next moment Mr. Larkin sprang upon the ice. I started up, and, calling to the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed him.

18. We ran to the dark spot in the center of the mass, and found two little boys. The head of the smaller was resting in the bosom of the larger; and both were fast asleep. The lethargy, which would have been fatal but for the timely rescue, had overcome them.

19. Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore off his jacket, and then, loosening his own garments to the skin, placed the cold child in contact with his own warm body, carefully wrapping his overcoat around him. I did the same with the other child, and we then returned to the boat.

20. The children, as we learned when we had the delight of restoring them to their parents, were playing on the cake of ice, which had jammed into a bend of the river, about ten miles above New York. A movement of the tide set the ice in motion, and the little fellows were borne away, that cold night, and would have inevitably perished, but for Mr. Larkin's espying them as they were sweeping out to sea.

21. "How do you feel, Mr. Larkin?" I said to the mate, the morning after this adventure. "A little stiff in the arms, captain," the noble fellow replied, while the big tears of grateful happiness gathered in his eyes,--"a little stiff in the arms, captain, but very easy here," laying his hand on the rough chest in which beat a true and manly heart. My quaint down-easter, He who lashes the seas into fury, and lets loose the tempest, will care for thee! The storms may rage without, but in _thy_ bosom peace and sunshine abide always.

QUESTIONS.--1. Describe the condition of the vessel as she lay at anchor inside Sandy Hook. 2. What did the captain say to Mr. Larkin, as he retired to rest? 3. Why did Mr. Larkin wake up the captain? 4. What did they discover on a cake of ice, floating out to sea? 5. Who went to their rescue? 6. What did the captain say to the rowers of the boat? 7. What did Mr. Larkin say to them? 8. Did they finally succeed in rescuing the children? 9. How came the two boys to be on that cake of ice? 10. What did Mr. Larkin say, when the captain asked him how he felt?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXIII.

A DORN' ED, decorated; embellished. SPOILS, booty; prey. ANT' LERS, branching horns. SUS PEND' ED, hung; atatched. DIS TRACT' ED, disturbed; disordered. FU' GI TIVE, runaway; wanderer. BE SET', hemmed in; surrounded. TRAI' TORS, betrayers. HEATH, place overgrown with shrubs. LIEGE, lord; sovereign. LOY' AL, true; faithful. FE' AL TY, loyalty; fidelity. MA' TRON, married woman. REC OG NIZ' ED, knew; recollected. IN VAD' ERS, persons invading.

ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SCOTCH WOMAN.

ANON.

1. Many years ago, an old Scotch woman sat alone, spinning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage. The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many implements of war and hunting. There were spears, bows and arrows, swords, and shields; and, against the side of the room, hung a pair of huge antlers, once reared on the lordly brow of a "stag of ten," [Footnote: That is, a stag ten years old. The age of the animal is known by the number of prongs or tines, each year one new prong being added.] on which were suspended skins, plaids, bonnets, and one or two ponderous battle-axes.

2. The table, in the middle of the floor, was spread for supper, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the fire. But the dame was not thinking of any of _these things_, nor of her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining room, were busily preparing for the next day's sport.

3. She was thinking of the distracted state of her native land, and of the good king, Robert Bruce, a fugitive in his own kingdom, beset, on every hand, by open enemies and secret traitors. "Alas!" thought she, "to-night I dwell here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out into the heath; and even now our king is a wanderer, with no shelter for his weary limbs."

4. A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings. She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar the entrance, and beheld a man closely muffled in a cloak. "My good woman," said he, "will you grant a poor traveler the shelter of your roof to-night'?"

5. "Right willingly will I," said she; "for the love of _one_, for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." 6. "For whose sake is it that you make all wanderers welcome?" asked the stranger.

7. "For the sake of our good king, Robert Bruce, who, though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn and hound, I trust yet to see on the throne of Scotland!"

8. "Nay, then, my good woman," replied the man, "since you love him so well, know that you see him now _I_ am Robert Bruce."

9. "_You'!_--are _you_ our king'?" she inquired, sinking on her knees, and reverently kissing his hand; "where, then, are your followers, and why are you thus alone?"

10. "I have no followers now," replied Bruce, "and am, therefore, compelled to travel alone."

11. "Nay, my liege," exclaimed the loyal dame, "that you shall do no longer; for here are my two sons, whom I give to you, and may they long live to serve and defend your majesty!"

12. The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the oath of fealty; and then, sitting beside the fire, the king entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their mother was busied in preparing the evening meal.

13. Suddenly, they were startled by the tramp of horses' hoofs, and the voices of men. "'_Tis the English!_" shouted the matron, "_fight to the last, my sons, and defend your king!_" But, at this moment, the king recognized the voices of Lord James, of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, and bade them have no fear.

14. Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother, and his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them a band of one hundred and fifty men. He bade farewell to the brave and loyal woman, and, taking with him her two sons, left the place.

15. The two young Scots served Bruce well and faithfully, and were high officers in his service when, at the head of a conquering army, he drove the English invaders from the soil of Scotland, and rendered her again a _free and independent kingdom_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Describe the room in which the Scotch woman resided. 2, What is meant by a "_stag of ten?_" 3. Who did the stranger prove to be? 4. Who joined Bruce? 5. What did Bruce and his men then do?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXIV.

PROS PER' ITY, success; good fortune. DIG' NI FIES, elevates; ennobles. SUS TAIN' ED, endured; suffered. AD VERS' I TY, calamity; misfortune. UN ERR' ING, sure; certain. FOR LORN', forsaken; wretched. CAN' O PY, covering overhead. EI DER DOWN, fine, soft feathers from the eider-duck. DE VOID', destitute. IM MERS' ED, inwrapped; sunk. GOS' SA MER Y, like gossamer; filmy. RE COIL' ED, started back. FOIL' ED, frustrated; defeated. RO MANCE', fiction. TRIV' I AL, small; trifling. CON FIDE', trust; believe. AD' VERSE, contrary; opposite. PALM, token of victory.

ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.

BERNARD BARTON.

1. Not in _prosperity's broad light_, Can reason justly scan The _sterling worth which_, viewed aright, _Most dignifies the man_. Favored at once by wind and tide, The skillful pilot well may guide The bark in safety on; Yet, when his harbor he has gained, He who no conflict hath sustained, No meed has fairly won.

2. But in _adversity's dark hour_ _Of peril and of fear,_ When clouds above the vessel lower, With scarce one star to cheer; When winds are loud, and waves are high, And ocean, to a timid eye, Appears the seaman's grave; Amid the conflict, calm, unmoved, By truth's unerring test is proved _The skillful and the brave._

3. For Scotland and her freedom's right The Bruce his part had played; _In five successive fields of fight_ _Been conquered and dismayed._ _Once more, against the English host_ _His band he led, and once more lost_ _The meed for which he fought;_ And now, from battle faint and worn, The homeless fugitive forlorn A hut's lone shelter sought.

4. And cheerless was that resting-place For him who claimed a throne; His canopy, devoid of grace,-- The rude, rough beams alone; The heather couch his only bed, Yet well I know had slumber fled From couch of eider down; Through darksome night to dawn of day, Immersed in wakeful thought he lay, Of Scotland and her crown.

5. The sun rose brightly, and its gleam Fell on that hapless bed, And tinged with light each shapeless beam Which roofed the lowly shed; When, looking up with wistful eye, The Bruce beheld a spider try His filmy thread to fling From beam to beam of that rude cot; And well the insect's toilsome lot Taught Scotland's future king.

6. Six times his gossamery thread The wary spider threw: In vain the filmy line was sped; For, powerless or untrue, Each aim appeared and back recoiled The patient insect, _six times foiled_, And yet unconquered still; And soon the Bruce, with eager eye, Saw him prepare once more to try His courage, strength, and skill.

7. _One effort more, the seventh and last_,-- The hero hailed the sign! And on the wished-for beam hung fast The slender, silken line. Slight as it was, his spirit caught The more than omen; for his thought The lesson well could trace, Which even "he who runs may read," That _perseverance gains its meed_, And _patience wins the race_.

8. Is it a tale of mere romance'? Its moral is the same,-- A light and trivial circumstance'? Some thought, it still may claim. Art thou a father'? teach thy son Never to deem that _all is done_, While _aught remains untried_; To hope, though every hope seems crossed, And when his bark is tempest-tossed Still calmly to confide.

9. Hast thou been long and often foiled (<) By adverse wind and seas'? And vainly struggled, vainly toiled, For what some win with ease'? Yet bear up heart, and hope, and will, Nobly resolved to struggle still, With patience persevere; Knowing, when darkest seems the night, The dawn of morning's glorious light Is swiftly drawing near.

10. Art thou a Christian? shall the frown Of fortune cause dismay'? The Bruce but won an _earthly crown_, Which long hath passed away; For thee a _heavenly crown_ awaits; For thee are oped the pearly gates,-- Prepared the deathless palm: But bear in mind that _only those_ _Who persevere unto the close,_ _Can join in Victory's psalm_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Will smooth seas and favoring gales make a skillful mariner? 2. What will make skillful and brave men? 3. In what respect is adversity better than prosperity? 4. What story illustrates this fact? 5. How many times did the spider try, before it succeeded? 6. In how many battles had Bruce been defeated? 7. What important lesson is taught youth? 8. What encouragement is given to the Christian?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXV.

PA' TRI OT' IC, having love of country. OB SER VA' TION, remark, expression. POP' U LAR, well received; prevailing. E QUAL' I TY, sameness of social position. AUD' I BLE, that may be heard. DE TER' MIN ED, fully resolved. HES' I TATE, scruple. BRA' VO, well done. BROILS, wrangles; quarrels. RENOWN' ED, famed; celebrated. O' DI OUS, hateful; offensive. COUNT' ESS, wife of a count or earl. FAG-END', the meaner part. NO BIL' I TY, noble rank. BUR LESQUE', (_burlesk',_) ridicule. HE RED' I TA RY, coming by descent. CON' STI TUTES, forms; composes. APH' O RISMS, precepts; maxims. TEM' PO RA RY, continuing for a time. BECK, sign with the hand; nod.

[Headnote 1: LA VA' TER, (John Gaspar,) a celebrated physiognomist, that is, one skilled in the art of determining character by the external features, born in Zurich, in 1741.]

That part of this dialogue uttered by Caroline, should be read in a very earnest and spirited style,--that uttered by Horace in a more grave, deliberate, and candid manner.

WEALTH AND FASHION.

_Caroline_. What a pity it is that we are born under a Republican government!

_Horace_. Upon my word, Caroline, that is a patriotic observation for an American.

_Caroline_. Oh, I know that it is not a _popular_ one! We must all join in the cry of liberty and equality, and bless our stars that we have neither kings nor emperors to rule over us, and that our very first audible squeak was republicanism. If we don't join in the shout, and hang our caps on liberty-poles, we are considered monsters. For my part, I am _tired_ of it, and am determined to _say what I think_. I _hate_ republicanism; I hate liberty and equality; and I don't hesitate to _declare_ that I am for monarchy. You may laugh, but I would say it at the stake.

_Horace_. Bravo, Caroline! You have almost run yourself out of breath. You deserve to be prime minister to the king.

_Caroline_. You mistake; I have no wish to mingle in political broils, not even if I could be as renowned as Pitt or Fox; but I must say, I think our equality is _odious_. What do you think! To-day, the new chamber-maid put her head into the door, and said, "Caroline, your marm wants you!"

_Horace_. _Excellent!_ I suppose if ours were a _monarchical_ government, she would have bent to the ground, or saluted your little foot, before she spoke.

_Caroline_. No, Horace; you _know_ there are no such forms in this country.

_Horace_. May I ask your highness what you _would_ like to be?

_Caroline_. I should like to be a countess.

_Horace_. Oh, you are moderate in your ambition! A countess, now-a-days, is the fag-end of nobility.

_Caroline_. Oh! but it sounds so delightfully,--_"The young Countess Caroline!"_

_Horace_. If _sound_ is all, you shall have that pleasure; we will call you _the young countess_.

_Caroline_. That would be mere burlesque, Horace, and would make one ridiculous.

_Horace_. Nothing can be more inconsistent in us, than aiming at titles.

_Caroline_. For _us_, I grant you; but, if they were _hereditary,_ if we had been born to them, if they came to us through belted knights and high-born dames, _then_ we might be proud to wear them. I never shall cease to regret that I was not born under a monarchy.

_Horace_. You seem to forget that all are not lords and ladies in _royal_ dominions. Suppose you should have drawn your first breath among the _lower classes_,--suppose it should have been your lot to crouch and bend, or be trodden under foot by some titled personage, whom in your heart you despised; what then?

_Caroline_. You may easily suppose that I did not mean to take _those_ chances. No; I meant to be born among the _higher_ ranks.

_Horace_. Your own reason must tell you, that _all_ can not be born among the _higher ranks_; for then the _lower ones_ would be wanting, which constitute the comparison. Now, Caroline, is it not better to be born under a government where there are no such ranks, and where _the only nobility is talent and virtue'?_

_Caroline_. Talent and virtue! I think _wealth_ constitutes our nobility, and the right of abusing each other, our liberty.

_Horace_. You are as fond of aphorisms as Lavater[Headnote 1] was.

_Caroline_. Let me ask you if our rich men, who ride in their own carriages, who have fine houses, and who count by millions, are not our _great_ men?