Front Cover
 Title Page
 Front Matter
 Table of Contents

Group Title: National series
Title: National series of selections for reading : adapted to the standing of the pupil. Part third : designed for the middle classes in schools, academies, &c.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003602/00001
 Material Information
Title: National series of selections for reading : adapted to the standing of the pupil. Part third : designed for the middle classes in schools, academies, &c. adapted to the standing of the pupil
Series Title: National series
Alternate Title: Parker's third reader
Physical Description: 236 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Parker, Richard Green, 1798-1869 ( Author, Primary )
Allen, M. ( Publisher )
Strickland, William ( Publisher )
Roberts, William, b. ca. 1829 ( Engraver )
Richardson, James ( Engraver )
Orr, Nathaniel ( Engraver )
A.S. Barnes & Co ( Publisher )
H.W. Derby & Co ( Publisher )
Smith, Knight & Co ( Publisher )
Keith & Woods ( Publisher )
J.B. Steel & John Ball (Firm) ( Publisher )
J.K Randall & Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: A.S. Barnes & Co.
H.W. Derby & Co.,
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1852
Copyright Date: 1851
Subject: Readers -- 1852   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Readers   ( rbgenr )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Ohio -- Cincinnati
United States -- Ohio -- Cleveland
United States -- Michigan -- Detroit
United States -- Missouri -- St. Louis
United States -- Louisiana -- New Orleans
United States -- Alabama -- Mobile
Statement of Responsibility: by Richard G. Parker.
General Note: Imprint also includes: Cleveland : Smith, Knight & Co, ; Detroit : M. Allen ; St. Louis : Keith & Woods ; New Orleans : J.B. Steel and John Ball ; Mobile : J.K. Randall & Co. and William Strickland.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Richardson, Orr, and Roberts.
General Note: Baldwin Library copy lacks pages: 23, 24, 219, 220.
Funding: National series (New York, N.Y.)
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003602
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002235456
oclc - 45785111
notis - ALH5910
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
    Front Matter
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
Full Text


~nr C 3
i .r c)t.

r' (r


~LJ~ A~l F CI

}^srs y^ ^ ,* I

.&' -* f ^ '- y l' y

; X


Fill r



The Baldwin Library

RLRFi fid1





~ ICL~ ~~;
r' ''
r o


-*.. ". *A -

'* 'l *Ci

T~lltri / )~--j~



a r wa *:

SS O EScCi oWsoE,".
pe H 00 L kVE NUD EX % S

I- -

&pr l ilOSO kLq eta

WsrYUTW~r 1~rA1PPU

. "
SThe Pablishes a happy'to ann<
S clod R~oareo Books, brthe
4. u da d epressly for the gradual
Seg.is to spell, ;p the period when

Edterd ordiog to Act of

Sb OCjik's 0ss<4

T 91

* cA 2

- c" oontalau 120 pages.
0'.. 204
"* 70 !

irIad of eduo on, ew ies of
"*Aidi h Composition,"
h d, from time the scholar
for at of god reading.

2igh a d Fifty-one,
L of the S ouC kbti of w York

S*, --




~, .li


Tis volume has been prepared with retaq
what I deem the wants of the middle cla in.aho i .
academies. The selections which I have ai pt
to the capacity of pupils J4 that stage of their pr< an.td J
in any instance I have soared above them, I haveLa4 *, M 1
deavored, by means of notes and illustrations, t ish
with a ladder by which they may easily raise
the same elevation. The practice of writing down"
level with children has, I am persuaded, an entting teu cyt._
It is better to furnish them with the means of raising t1xi 4
selves. The reading a6c words to which they attychi no6-a',
nite meaning can answer very lit purpose. As aa ez i nt
articulatioff, it is welt'to practice them in the enundct !.
he letters in every possible variety of combination b~t ^
Sa n should have a higher purpose than th7 t'
practice of action. So far ab can be done, ii or-
mation should ded witbrthe exercise. It nt
frequently the case Wchbol-books of the chlAre fur.-
'sh almost the entire of literary information po" "ed
by family to which ag. This is particularly the
case .w re the toil-har nd of the father has other
occupation too pressing t o gentler labor of lie. '
pursuits, a the ilende es of the mother k4F
afforded to h little ok appreciate tberaliv
If the school k can in s be so judiciously c -.p
structed as to- interesting the child and to h
parentsits val ill thereby be cd,


the same time, its usefulness as a text-book for common pur-
poses will be as wide and as general as if it had been prepared
with special reference to the wants of the child alone. It is
with this consideration constantly in mind, that this volume
has been prepared.
In the Preface to the Fourth Reader I have stated my
reasons (to me, at least, satisfactory) for incumbering my
pages with- no special rules nor directions. Those reasons
apply with equal force to this volume. Some general instruc-
tions, such as could be properly given in the form of a regular
exercise for reading, divested of technicalities, will be found
in a few of the lessons; but I aim not to make good readers
by rule. If I have succeeded in what I have attempted, namely,
the selection of pieces properly adapted to the proposed stage
of the pupil, while at the same time they are of a character to
prove useful also at home, 1 shall have achieved all at which
.I have aimed.
R. G.P.






[ The Poetical Extracts are designated by Italic Letters.
Lesson Page
Preface, ....... ......... ... *
1. Books .............. ......rigin 9
2. Reading, ......... ....... ... 16
3. Spring, ........ ...Howitt .....18
4. he Seven Wonders of the World, . Original, .. 20
5. Nothing is lost, . . . .. Anonymous, .23
6. John Clare, . .. .. Chalmers, 23
7. The Duties of School-boys, . . Rollin, . 26
8. Look Aloft, ............... Lawrence, ... .27
9. Good-by, Proud World, ......... R. W. Emerson, .28
10. The Village Blacksmith, .. ........ .Longfellow, .. 29
11. A Sacred Melody, .......... Leggett, .. .. 30
12. Apologue, .. .... Jeremv Taylor, 31
13. h Youth and the Philosopher,....... Whitehead, .3
14. Cruelty to Animals, . . Chalmers, 33
15. The River,. .................... S. G. Geodrch,.. 9
16. Bernardine du Born, . . Mrs. Sgourney, 6
17. Hymn ............... .Chatterton,.... t
18. Description of the Pampas, . Sir F. Head, ..38
19. The Love of Nature, ....... .Beattie, ... .40
20. Proportionate Lengths of the Necks and Legs of
Anumals, (altered from) . y ... 42
21. The Farmer's Life, ..... Bloomfield, .44
22. Travels in Africa, . . Park,. 45
23. April Day, . . Anonymous, 4S
24. Traveler's Stories, from Gulliver's Travels, Swift, . 49
25. Illustrations of Lyin, ........ .. Mrs. Opis .64
26. Same subject, concluded,. .... .. . 59
27. September Sports, . ......... Alfred B. Street,. 62
2S. San Francisco, ........... Colton, .... 66
29. ~lifornia, ............ ...... ....... 73
30. M James Watt, . .... Anonymous, 0 78
31. Delht in God only,, . F. Qarles, 82
32. How unpowder has lessenedlvils of War, Anonymous, 84
33. Same dbject, concluded, . . 86
34. The V* ......... .. .James F. Clarke, .9
35. Eternal Pvidence, .... . .Langhorne, .
36. AName i he Sand, ..... ..... H. F. Gould .
37. A Country ie, . . Catharine Philip 5
33. Calico Pring The Father df-6 Robert
Peel, . Anonymous, .93
39. Same subject, included, . 96
40. The Notes of t Bird,. .. ... Isaac M'Lellan, Jr., 9

~~ -* 6l


41. Transformation of Animals, . . Smellie, ..... 101
42. Same subject, continued, .. ... .. 103
43. i" concluded, . ...... .. 105
44. Washing Day, . . .... Mrs. Barbauld, 109
45. Birds, .. . .......... Dict. of Nat. Hist. 112
46. Fishes, ... ......... .... .. 117
47. Quadrupeds ....... 121
48. The Stormy Petrel, ........ .. Nuttall, :. .. 124
49. The Stormy Petrel, ... . . Park Benjamin,. 128
60. Honesty and Integrity, ...... .. Emma C. Embury, 128
61. Same subject, concluded, 130
52. The Winds, .. ..... . H. F. Gould, 134
53. Indian Names,. ....... .Mrs. Sigourney, 135
54. A Castle in the Air, . . .. .Levi Frisbie, .. 137
65. Steam Navigation in America, ....... .Anonymous, .138
56. The Shepherd's H/pe, .... . .Collins, .. ..143
57. The Grave of Gelert, the Greyhound, Montgomery,. .144
58. Wife, Children, and Friends,. ... 146
59. A Frenchleasant's Supper, . . Sterne, .. 14P
60. The Miner Vegetable, and Animal Kingdoms, Dr. John Ware, 156
61. Same subject, continued, ......... .. 152
62. concluded, .. . ... .155
63. Palestine, ...... ............ Whittier, ....158
64. Our Country, .. . . .. W. J. Pahodie, 160
65. Learning to Think, . . Extracted, 161
66. Same subject, continued, . . ... 163
67. .... .165
68. ," concluded, .......... ... 167
69. Seasons of Prayer, . . ... Henry Ware, Jr, 170
70. The Frozen Dove, . . H. F. Gould, .172
71. The Choice qf a Prize, . .... 173
72. English Prosody, .. ........ Original, ... 175
73. Same subject, continued, . ..... 177
74. concluded, ...... ." 180
75. Lavinia, ................. Thomson, .. 183
76. The Figure or Shape of the Earth, ..... .Chambers 187
77. Attention, . . .. . Chesterfield, 189
78. TotheCuckoo ................Logan, .....192
79. Hymn of the Birds, ....... Heber, .. .. 192
80. Ode on Solitude, .. ... ..... Pope, . .. 193
81. Mexico- The Device on Its Coins, ... Extracted, .194
82. The Albatross and the Penguin, .... Extracted, 197
83. History, ......... .......... .Locke .... 201
84. The Filial Vew, .......... Tannaill, . 203
85. The Kitten, .. . . Joanna Baillie, 204
86. Injudicious Haste in Study, ........ Locke, .. 207
87. The Snow-storm,. ......... .Wilson, .. 909
88. Same subject, continued, .. .. 211
89. concluded, . . . 213

90. Of the Parenthesis, Crotchets, and Brackets, Rhetor'icaleader.217
91. Ofthe Dash, .............. 218
99. Of the Hyphen,. . ... 228
98. Of the Apostrophe, Quotton, and Dieeresis,. 228
94. Of the Asterisk, Obelisk Double Obelisk,)
Section Parallels, Paragraph, Index, 2 25
Caret, Breve, and Brace, ..
95. Of the Accent, ....... ..... 227
96. Distinctness of Artiulation, . 281
97. Analogy. . . ..........

~a ~~;' L~~
.. r

& A


1. READING is an exercise frequently pursued in the
school-room with little attention. The sclar is too
apt to think that if he can call the words correctly, he
is at least a tolerably good reader. He will, perhaps
be surprised to learn that it is really an exercise which
requires careful attention, diligent study, and much
2. No scholar should be permitted to read to his
teacher until he has been allowed proper time and
opportunity to study the lesson; and for this purpose it
is as important that a lesson, or a certain number of
pages, be regularly assigned to a scholar or a class, as
that portions of other books should be appointed for
study, instead of requiring the whole volume to be
recited, in any other branch, at a single lesson.
3. The classes for whom this volume is especially
designed are supposed to be old enough to understand
why they are .required or permitted to attend a school,
and to think intelligibly upon the subjects to which
their attention is invi6 or required by tffeir teacher.
I .propose, therefore, to offer so estions which
may-aid them in the faithffil perf of this duty.
4. The first suggestion which I M Pjnake relatM e
to all thq studies to which the attenti th scholar
is demanded at school. Eveyr one it delighted with a
new book, pd every scholar Is always gratified With
the anticipa on of a new study. Its very novelty ,
pleases at fiirt, and, if it be pursued iatelligibly, the
interest of the *cholar will seldom flag.
5. When, theefore, a new book is put into yqt



hands, ask yourself the following questions, in order
that if any one should require an answer to one or to
al4of them, you will be able to make a clear, distinct,
a and satisfactory reply.
6. What is the name or title of the book ? Who is
the author of it; that is, who wrote it? Where was it
printed? when? and by whom? How many pages
Does it contains and what is the size of the page?
On what kind of paper is it printed? and is the type
large 'r small?t
7. What is the book about? or of what subjects does
it treat ? Is it like any book that you have ever seen
before, on le same or any other subject ? Is it in prose
or in verse? and are the sentences which it contains
tong or short? Are there many notes either at the
end of the book or at the bottom of the pages ?
8. Has it any plates or illustrations (that is, pic-
tures) ? and if so, what are they designed to illustrate
or explain? Has it a preface or an introduction? and
Books have different names, according to the size of the page and
the number of leaves into which a sheet is folded. Wlien the sheet
makes but two leaves, or four pages, it is called a folio volume. This
is the largest size of books, such as very large Bibles, and large news-
papes when bound to form books. When the sheet is doubled, and
thus makes four leaves and eight pages, it is called a quarto volume.
If the sheet be again doubled, it is called octavo; and if it be folded in
such a manner that the sheet makes twelve leaves, or twenty-four pages
it is called a duodecimo. When the sheet makes sixteen; eighteen,
twenty-four, or thirty-two pages, it is called, respectively, 16mo., 18mo.,
24mo., 32mo. This book is a duodecimo.
t The various kinds of paper have received different names, from the
size and thickness of the sheet, and the materials of which it is made.
The best paper is made from linen, but by.far the largest proportion of
S the paper usel in this country is made of cotton. Paper intended to
receive writing is sized, that is, dipped in a solution of glutinous,
matter, which prevents the ink from spxading on the paper. Mostief
Sthe books printed in this country arq printed on cotton paper, tjserzed.
foreign books, and especially those printed in England, arefmade of
linen paper, or of paper that has b4n sized ; and that is one 6f the rea-
sons why foreign books generally wear better than Americi'. Unsized
paper is also whiter, but not so strong as that which is sized. Any one
can easily distinguish the difference between sized and sized paper,
by simply applying the moist end of the tongue to the heet. It it be
sized, tie moisture will not penetrate the paper, t stand on the
outside. But if the paper be not sized, it will inantly render the
moistened spot transparent. On such paper it is ver difficult to write,
because the ink is instatly absorbed by it, and spre s on each side of
the letter. Itwell b lwUfcic t for the scholar notice, generally,
whether the upper is tuck or thia, sized or unsiz


does the author inform you in either what induced
him to write the book? Is the subject a new one, or
has some one else previously written on the same
subject ?
9. Is it wholly original, that is, did the author
write the whole book himself, or did he make it up
wholly or in part of extracts from other authors ? Is it
a new book, now appearing for the first time, or was
it written some time ago, and lately reprinted ? Was it
originally written in the English language, or is it a
translation, that is, a work originally written in
French, Latin, Greek, or some other language, and
translated into English?
10. Does the author make use of such words, and
place them in such order in his sentences, that you can.
readily understand what he means to say? Is the sub-
ject of the book connected with any other subject ith
which you are at all acquainted? In what manner
does the author treat the subject, namely, in the nar-
rative, descriptive, didactic, argumentative, or
humorous style ?
11. In order that you may understand the
must be informed that when an author mere es
or tells facts or events, his work is called narria .
he describes the appearance of any person or thing~ t
is called descriptive. If he writes for the purpose of
teaching or explaining, it is called didactic. If he is
endeavoring to prove or disprove some truth, and
adduces reasons in favor of or against it, it is called ar-
12. If, however, h-etouches your fe makes you
shed tears, excites love, anger, or other passions, his
work is called pathetfe. But if what he has writteUa
causes you to smile or laugh, it is called a humorous
13. Now, there are few books that are written wholly'
in either of these styles which I have described; but
most books, contain a mixture of several of them. Seir
mons and addresses delivered before s~ligious assem-
blies, are included under what' is. killed the eloyvea
of the pulpit.` Speeches made before courts of ju4tidb

N ."


are embraced in the term eloquence of the bar; and
those which are delivered in public assemblies, and
before the different branches of a legislature, are speci-
mens of forensic eloquence.
14. Books which explain the principles of science are
called scientific works; and .those which relate to some
particular art are called technical. Books which relate
to subjects connected with any profession are called
professional works; and those which are designed to
attack some particular sentiment, opinion, or theory,
are called polemical or controversial. Writings which
are designed for representation on the stage, in theaters,
are called dramatic, whether in prose or in verse. Such
as are designed-to be sung with a musical accompani-
ment are called lyrical.
15. There are a few subjects of minor importance,
. the knowledge of which is, to say the least, useful.
Some authors adopt one standard of spelling, others
adopt another; for, although. there is but one proper
wa selling most of the words in the English lan-
are many words about which different
ave various opinions.
instance, Dr. Johnson has laid it down as a
lhe letter never ends an English word; and in
i ionuary such words as physic, logic, arithmetic,
ways spelt with a k after the c, thus, logick,
arithmetick, physick, &c. The reason of thi_ ttde
of Dr. Johnson will be seen in the difficulty of fol-
lowing the rule of orthoepists (or those whb teach the
pronnnciat words), that the letter c has always
its hard sol fore the letters a, o, and u, and its soft
,.. sound before e, i, and y. Now, if the words physic,
Sfraffic, and others of the same termination,are spelled
without the final k, then the words physiced, traf-
ficed, must either violate this-rule, or else be pronounced
as if they'were spelt physised, traffised, &c.
17. Dr. Johnson's dictionary was, for a long time,
considered the best standard of orthography (or spelling)
of words. It was afterwards very much improved by
Mr. Walker and Mr. 'odd, who gave the pronunciation
of the words. Tja dictionary of pr. Johnson, thus


improved by Walker and Todd, continued to be the
standard in this, country, until Dr. Webster published
his great dictionary, which he had been employed
more than twenty years in preparing.
18. In this work, the fiat k was wholly omittedas
was also the i in such words as favor, honor, hvt r,
which were spelt by Dr. Johnson with a u before the r,
as humour, honour, &c. Dr. Johnson also spelled trav-
eler, traveled, with two Is, thus, traveller, traveled; but
Dr. Webster omitted one of the Is. The words scepter
and miter were spelled by Johnson 0ptre and mitre, the
final syllables of which are like acre and lucre. Dr.
Webster introduced the mode of spelling these words
with the e before the r. These are ar few of the in-
stances in which authorities differ in the spelling or
orthography of words.
19. Since the appearance of Dr. Webster's dictionary, a
another work has appeared in this country, prepared
by Mr. Worcester, and these two dictionaries differ
very materially in the spelling and the p mti6a
of many words, Mr. Worcester adhering i
to the English authorities. .:
20. Both works were the production of a great
amount of labor, and both are very valuable ear .
Some printers and publishers adopt the one as a stall
ard, others adopt the other. The standard which hae
e lensdopted at the request of the publishers of this
volume atd the others belonging to the series, is that
of Dr. Webster.
21. The Englh language is composed of words
derived from manyda'erent languages, bur the founda-
tion of it is the Anglo-Saxon. The spelling of the,
words of such a language must, of course, be very *'
irregular. Thus, in the tio following lines the letters
ough have no fewer than seven different sounds.
Though the tough cough and hiccough* plough me through,
Through life's rough lought my course I will pursue."
22. In many words, alsqb'he same letters have a
Pronounced hickup. t Pronouql M .
2 '*
M ^ .


different position, without altering the pronunciation.
Thus, in the word ceiling, the e comes before the i,
while infield, shield, and yield, the i comes beforeAhe e.
23. Many words, also, which are spelt very differ-
ently have the same pronunciation, although their
meaning differs according to the spelling. Thus, the
words write, wright, right, and rite, although all pro-
nounced alike, have very different meanings.
24. Irregularities of this kind, are the principal rea-
son why it is so difficult a matter to learn to read and
write the English language correctly. To obviate this
difficulty, a new plan has been proposed, called pho-
nography, by which -words shall be spelt exactly as
they are pronounced: all silent letters be omitted, and
new letters adopted to express such sounds as cannot
be represented by any single letter of the present alpha-
bet. This plan, however, has not yet been received
with much favor.
25. Another thing which may be noticed, when you
have a neo book, is the manner in which it is bound.
Some books have only paper covers. These are called
pamphlets. Others have leather backs, and cloth on
the covers. These are said to be in half-binding.
Others, again, are wholly covered with leather, and
ornamented with gilding, or with the marks of a hot iron.
26. The cost of the volume depends in some.measure
on the style in which it is bound. The kind of father
principally used in binding is sheepskin (which is the
cheapest), calfskin, morocco, Russian leather (which is
very durable), and parchment. The leather is gener-
ally stained, or spotted by the binder, but law-books
are generally bound in leather that has not been,
27. When a book is first published, the author takes
out what is called a copy-right, and he gives the public
notice of this fact on the back of the title-page. When
this is done, no one else can print or sell the book with-
out his permission. For the privilege of the copy-right
She pays one dollar to the government, at the office of
the district clerk; and he is permitted to record in his
book that it has been 1 entered according to act of Con-


gress, in the clerk's office." If a book has no such
record on it, any one may print or publish it, without
asking permission of the author.
28. These are a few of the particulars which may
with advantage be noticed when you take up any book
for the first time. But whenever you take up a book
for examination, be not contented with an acquaintance
with its external appearance alone.
29. Many persons there are who have a very exten-
sive knowledge of the titles of books, but who are very
ignorant of their contents. Books are really valuable
only as they enable us to think, by comparing the
thoughts of others with what arises in our own minds.
30. Whatever book, therefore, you open, not only
read it carefully and attentively, but when you close
the volume endeavor to recall to your memory what
you have read; and if you have time, write down such
portions of it as you can remember. But, above all
things, pass over no word the meaning of which you
do not understand.
31. For this reason, always have a dictionary near
you, and look out the meaning of the words you do not
understand; and if your search is unavailing in your
dictionary, then (but not till then) ask your teacher to
inform you; and if he happens to be engaged at the
time, mark the words, and refer to him at his first
rnoment of leisure. Be not ashamed to betray your
ignorance. The teacher who is unable or unwilling to
assist you is unworthy of his situation.

Reading. ORIGINAL.
1. WHEN a lesson has been assigned to a class as
an exercise in reading, opportunity should always be
allowed, as was stated in the last. lesson, to study it
ove~, in order to read it with expression. Flr this a
purpose, the scholar should be required to stifdy it; but
as such a direction will be useless unless the scholar is


first informed how to study it, it is proposed in this les-
son to throw out some suggestions which may aid him
.in the task..
2. By studying a reading lesson, it is not meant that
the scholar should endeavor to commit it to memory.
It will be necessary that he read it over, perhaps, a
considerable number of times; that he may under-
stand what the piece is about, that-he may find out
the meaning of every word which is not familiar to
him, and, perhaps, some that appear to be familiar, but
the meaning of which he cannot explain.
3. Having read the lesson over, and ascertained the
meaning, not only of every word, but, also, of every
combination of words, the scholar should next endeavor
to find out the character of the piece, whether it is
narrative, descriptive, argumentative, pathetic, or imi-
tative; for each of these different styles of writing
require some difference in the manner of reading them.
4. The next thing which demands attention is the
pronunciation of the words. If the scholar is in any
doubt how a word should be pronounced, he should
consult some good dictionary which has been recom-
mended to him as a standard.
5. Another particular which requires attention is the
accent. Every word of more than one syllable has
one syllable which is to be pronounced with more force
than the others; and correctness in accenting words is
a very important requisite in good reading. To give
an example, the word recognize is by many persons
miscalled recognize, but every correct reader calls it
n 6. Again, as there are peculiar tones of the voice used
in the expression of various feelings among mankind, the
scholar should endeavor to ascertain what peculiar tone
of voice is proper in the different parts of the piece.
Thus, if he were reading the account of a shipwreck
or some dreadful calamity, or a description of a death-
bed scene, he will at once understand that it is to be
. uttered in a tone entirely different from the account of
some festive scene.
T. Ai in every word of more than one syllable there
^\ '


is always someone syllable that requires to be accented,
so, also, in every sentence there is generally some word
or words which require to be emphasized, or pro-
nounced more forcibly than the others. The scholar
should therefore endeavor to ascertain what word or
words require this emphasis; and when he is called
upon to read, he should be careful to put the emphasis
on the right word.
8. The pauses and other marks in written language
next require attention. Some pauses are used only to
mark the grammatical divisions of the sentence. These
are no guide to be followed in reading. Sometimes a
long pause is required, even where there is none marked
in the sentence. The scholar should endeavor to exer-
cise his taste, judgment and good sense, in ascertaining
where such pauses are to be made.
9. Every mark used in printing is used for some
purpose; and the vigilant eye of the scholar should
allow no one to escape his attention, nor pass over it
until he knows why it is inserted in his book. Some
words, also, are printed wholly in Italic letters, others
in capitals; and he should endeavor to find out why
such words are printed in a character different from the
10. When there is a note at the bottom of the page,
it should be read at the end of the sentence where the
mark indicating the note occurs. They who omit the
notes often lase some of the most interesting and instruct-
iv4 portions of their books.
11. In reading, you must recollect that your task is
principally that of narration, not imitation. You should,
therefore, use no gestures nor grimaces; and although
yoj should adapt your tones to the nature of the piece,
your task is entirely different from recitation or decla-
mation. While, therefore, you preserve a quiet and
subdued-manner, you must avoid tameness on the one
hand, and violence on the other.
12. Imagine yourself to be relating the narration,
description, instruction, oq, in general, the sentin*nts
of the author, to some friend, and endeavor .to read
it with the same tone of voice, the same accent, force



and emphasis, which.you would use in common con-
versation, if you were repeating the same sentiments to
a friend.

Spring. irITT.
1. SPRING is come! She may, perhaps, at first, be
mistaken for Winter. She may not at once have taken
off her traveling garb and rough wrappings; but here
she is. As she begins to throw off one dark and shaggy
habiliment after another, we see not our old-fashioned
friend, Winter, with his hardy, wrinkled face, and his
keen eye, full of cutting jokes, and those horny hands
that in his mere playfulness nipped us mercilessly by
the ear, and often by the nose; but we descry the grace-
ful form of the gentle and gracious Spring. We feel the
thrill of her presence, knowing all the beauty and the
love that she brings with her.
2. Spring is come! It is March, rough, yet pleas-
ant, vigorous, and piping March. It is the month of
life, of strength, and hope. We shall soon hear his
voice, and "the sound of his going in the tops of the
trees." His gales will come rushing over forest and
lea,* and shake the old trees about our houses with a
merry strength. 0! how different from the solemn fitful-
ness of Autumn, or the wild wrath of Winter! And we
shall lie in our beds at midnight; and shall we not pray
for safety to the thousands of our fellow-men at sea ?
3. People are all eager to be at work in their gar-
dens. The earth turns up fresh and mellow, and there
is a beauty in its very blackness that charms the eye.
Flowers are fast springing in the borders, generally of
a delicate and poetic beauty, as the Alpine violet, the
dog-tooth violet, daffodils, hyacinths, squills, and saxi-
frages. The snowdrop still lifts its graceful head, and
the taller snowflake comes forth. Almond-trees blos-
som, a brilliant spectacle while the trees are yet leaf-
A meadow, or a plain.



A Catkin is a kind of flower produced by such trees as the maple,
birch, hazel, oak, willow, and poplar. It consists of something like
scales arranged along a slender stalk. It is so called from its resem-
blance to a cat's tail. The tacamahac is a tree of South America, and
of the island'of Madagascar. Violets, daffodils, hyacinth, squills and
saxifrages, snow-drop and snow-flake, are the names of different kinds
of flowers. This piece was written in England, and therefore the
description refers to the plants which are seen in that country. Thd
meze'reon is a kind of laurel.
t Faiato is a term applied to land that has not been cultivated for a
year or more. Coltsfoot, cardamine, celandine, kingcup, daisy and cro-
cus, are names of flowers.
t Pronounced bookay, and means a tuft of powers.


less. The tacamahac shows its long catkins,* the
meze'reon exhibits its clustered blossoms, and the first
red China-rose unfolds itself to the fresh air.
4. In the woods and on the warm banks how delight-
fil is it to see green things vigorously bursting through
the mold, and sweet flowers nodding to us as old
friends! Coltsfoot and cardamine embellish old fallowst
and green moist meadows; the star of Bethlehem gleams
in woods and shady places; the celandine and kingcup
glow in all their golden luster; the daisy once more
greets us, and the crocus spreads like a purple flood
over those meadows which it has beautified for ages.
5. But, above all the favorites of the field, the violet,
white or purple, now diffuses its sweetness under our
hedges and along the banks which we have known from
our childhood. How many scenes of that happy
childhood does the first sight of them recall! How the
mind flies back to the spots which we may, perhaps '
never again visit, and where they who made so mudk
of the delight of those years have long ceased to xist1
6. Still, to the very last, in spite of sorrow a
and desolating memories, Spring and the firtt
b g their poetry with them, all the world over.
IreaU observed with what eagerness, as of child.
d .te ermans set forth, in groups or alone, terhunt
f e irit March violets. Through woods and vine-
yar s, overhanging far-stretching scenes, they go, know-
ing of old where the purple strangers first appear. But
the boys have been as surely before them, and meet
them with their little odorous bouquets$ at all turns and


sY ;

-rq- _"-W-?7 71; -. __ -- IT-I



7. Well, a thousand welcomes to Spring, though she
cannot bring back, with all her flowers, the flower of
our youth; though she cannot, with all her poetry,
bring back the poetry of early love; though she cannot
repaint the rose on cheeks that are pillowed beneath the
yew,* nor enable us to offer the first-gathered violets to
the dear souls who are in heaven. Yet she brings joy
to the earth still.
8. The bees are once more out; the hare runs, for-
getting her fears, across the verdant fields; the harm-
less snake comes forth and basks on the primrose bank.
All nature is full of motion. The fowls of the farm-
yard lay; the pheasants crow in the copse; the ring-
dove coos; the linnet and the goldfinch sing, and man
is busy at fence and drain, is ploughing and sowing,
and pruning and planting, while he talks of the good
years gone, and hopes for more.
9. Spring stirs everything with her influence, the
depths of the soil, and the depths of the heart, and
makes us; more than all other seasons, in love with
l ,and full of longings after those who are dear to us
g time and eternity. It is then that we are most sad,
fet happy; most tearful and prayerful; most haunted
by memory and discursive in hope. We live more
lovingly in the past, the present, and the future.
10. There is a spring in the spirit as in nature; and
the soul puts forth all its buds of anticipation, its most
delicate blossoms of affection; and every leaf of a
higher or tenderer consciousness in our nature unfolds
itself, and we find that God and heaven are not far off.

The Seven Wonders of the World. OtrGINAL.
1. THE Seven Wonders of the World were the pyra-
mids of Egypt; the mausoleum erected by Artemisia;
the temple of Diana, at Ephesus; the walls and hang-
The name of an evergreen tree.


ing gardens of Babylon; the Colossus, at Rhodes; the
statue of Jupiter 'Olympus, and the Pharos or watch-
tower of Alexandria.
2. The pyramids of Egypt are very large piles, con-
structed so long ago that history cannot inform us
when, or for what purpose, they were built. One of
the largest is more than six hundred feet on each side
of the base,* and it is, also, seven or eight hundred feet
3. The pyramids are supposed to have been the
burial-places or tombs of the kings of ancient Egypt.
There are about forty of these immense structures still
standing in Middle Egypt. According to Herodotus,
the most ancient of historians except Moses, the two
largest of the pyramids were wholly covered with white
4. Artemisia was the wife of Mausolus, the King of
Caria, who died about three.or four hundred years
before the birth of Jesus Christ. She was very much
grieved by the death of her husband, and erected to his
memory the beautiful structure called the Mausoleum,
and employed some of the most distinguished architects
of Greece in its construction.
5. It was about one hundred and thirty fee: high, and
Strly one hundred feet on each side of the base. The
fouredes were beautifully decorated by sculptures,
wroU gh the most celebrated Grecian artists.
6. Diana was one of the goddesses worshiped by the
ancient Greeks) Thertemple built at Ephesus, in her
honor, waa a magnificent edifice, four hundred and
twenty-five fewt long, and two hundred feet broad, and
was adorned with a hundred and twenty-seven pillars,
each sixty fet high.
7. It is said that all the nations of Asia Minor were
employed two hundred and twenty years on this edifice.
It was also adorned with numerous statues and paint-
ings of the most)celebratedjGrecian artists. ) The ruins
of this magnific it temple Are now the residence of cow-
The lowest part.


herds and their cattle, and the once splendid city of
Ephesus is a poor village.
8. The hanging gardens were constructed by the
order of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, to gratify
his queen, who pined for the scenery of her native
country. They were built on arches, rising above one
another, to resemble the mountainous country of Media,
the birthplace of the queen. Seen from a distance, they
appeared as if they were suspended in the air, from
which circumstance they were sometimes called the
aerial gardens.
9. The Colossus of Rhodes was a brazen statue of
Apollo, erected about three hundred years before the
birth of Jesus Christ. It was one hundred and five
feet in height. The feet were placed one on each side
of the harbor, and ships passed in full sail between its
legs. Twelve years were consumed by the artist in its
10. In less than a hundred years after it was finished,
it was partly demolished by an earthquake. When the
Saracens became the masters of the island of Rhodes
[A. D. 672 *], the remains of this prodigious statue were
sold to a Jewish merchant, who loaded nine hundred
camels with the brass of which it was composed.
11. The statue of Jupiter Olympus was the work of
- Phidias, one of the- most celebrated sculptors of anti-
quity. The *stie was composed of ivory and gold,
and represented "the god as sitting upon a throne, with
an olive wreath of gold about his temples. The upper
part of the body was of ivory.
12. The lower part was covered with wide mantle,
of beaten gold, with an imitation of embr*iery painted
upon it. The statue was surrounded witnmagnificent
drapery, which was drawn aside only on particular oc-
casions, when the deity was to be exhibited. A sense
Sof greatness and splendor overwhelmed the spectator.
13. The Pharos, or watch-tower of Alexandria, was a
light-house, built on the island of Pharos, a small island

The letters A. D., when placed before figures representing a date,
mean, Since the birth of4Christ," or, In the year of our Lord."


1` I


wall of his room where he stuffed his manuscripts, a
piece of paper vas often taken to hold the kettle with,
or light the fire."
8. In 1817, Clare, while working at Bridge Caster-
ton, in Rutlandshire, resolved on risking the publica-
tion of a volume. By hard working day and night, he
got a pound* saved, that he might have a prospectus
printed. This was accordingly done, and a Collection
of Original Trifles" was announced to subscribers, the
price not to exceed 3s. 6d.
9. "I distributed my papers," he says, "but as'
could get at no way of pushing them into higher circlet
than those with whom I was acquainted, they conse-
quently passed off as quietly as if they had been still in
my possession, unprinted and unseen." Only seven
subscribers came forward!
10. One of these prospectuses, however, led to an
acquaintance with Mr. Edward Drury, bookseller,
Stamford, and through this gentleman the poems were
published by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey, London, who
purchased them from Clare for 20. The volume was
brought out in January, 1820, with an interesting, well-
written introduction, and bearing the title, "Poems
Jescriptive of Rural Life and Scenery, by John Clare,
a Northamptonshire peasant." The attention of the
public was instantly awakened "to the circumstances
and the merits of Clare. The magazines and reviews
were unanimous in his favor.
11. "This interesting little volume," said the Quar-
terly Review, "bears indubitable evidence of being
composed altogether from the impulses of the writer's
mind, as excited by external objects and internal sen-
sations. Here are no tawdry and feeble paraphrases
of former poets, no attempts at describing what the
author might have become acquainted with in his
limited reading.
12. The woods, the vales, the brooks, 'the crimson

A pound is four dollars and forty-four cents.
t A prospectus is a paper sent round by an author or publisher of a
vorAk, containing some account of the work, and the conditi 1 ic
i. to be delivered to subscribers.
3 ,



spots i' the bottom of a cowslip,' or the loftier phenom-
ena of the heavens, contemplated through the alterna-
tions of hope and despondency, are the principal sources
whence the youth, whose adverse circumstances and
resignation under them extort our sympathy, drew the
faithful and vivid pictures before us.
13. "Examples of minds highly gifted by nature,
struggling with and breaking through the bondage of
adversity, are not rare in this country: but privation
is not destitution; and the instance before us is, per-
haps, one of the most striking of patient and persever-
ing talent existing and enduring in the most forlorn
and seemingly hopeless condition, that literature has at
any time exhibited."

On the Duties of Schoolboys. ROLLIN.
1. QUINTILIAN includes almost all the duty of scholars
in this one piece of advice which he gives them: To
love those who teach them, as they love the sciences
which they learn of their instructors; and to look upon
their teachers as fathers, from whom they derive nA
the life of the body, but that instruction which is, in a
manner, the life of the mind. If they possess this sen-
timent of affection and respect, it suffices to make them
apt to learn during the time of their studies, and full
of gratitude all the rest of their lives.
2. Docility, which consists in submitting to the direc-
tions given them, in readily receiving the instructions
of their masters, and in reducing these to practice, is
properly the virtue of scholars, as that of masters is to
teach well. The one can do nothing without the other.
And as it is not sufficient for a laborer to sow the
seed, unless the earth, after having opened her bosom -
to receive it, encourages its growth by warmth and
moisture, so the whole fruit of instruction depends up-
on a good correspondence between the master and the
3. Gratitude for those who have labored in our edu-



cation is the characteristic of an honest man, and~the
tribute of a good heart. Who is there among us,"
says Cicero,* that has been instructed with any care,
that is not highly delighted with the sight, or even the
bare remembrance, of his preceptors, masters, and the
place where he was taught and brought up ? Seneca
exhorts young men always to preserve a great respect
for their masters, to whose care they are indebted
for the amendment of their faults, and for having
imbibed sentiments of honor and probity.
4. The exactness and severity of our teachers may
displease sometimes, at an age when we are not in a
condition to judge of the obligations we owe them; but
when years have ripened our understanding and judg-
ment, we discern that their admonitions, reprimands,
and a severe exactness ii restraining the passions of an
imprudent and inconsiderate age, are the very things
which should make us esteem and love them. Thus
Marcus Aurelius, one of the wisest and most illustrious
emperors that Rome ever had, thanked Heaven for two
things especially; for his having excellent tutors him-
self, and that he had found the like for his children.
5. The duties of schoolboys consist in docility and
obedience; respect for their masters, zeal for study, and
a thirst after the sciences, joined to an abhorrence of
vice and irregularity, together with a sincere and fer-
vent desire of pleasing. God, and referring all their ac-
tions to him.

Look Aloft.- LAWRENCE.
1. IN the tempest of life, when the wave and the
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail,
If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart,
Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. -

Cicero was a very celebrated orator of Rome. He lived a few years
before the birth of Christ.



2. If the friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe,
Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are
"Look aloft to the friendship which never shall fade.
-3. Should the visions which Hope spreads in light
to thine eye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly,
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret,
"Look aloft" to the sun that is never to set.
4. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart,
The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart,
" Look aloft from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where affection is ever in bloom."
5. And, oh! when death comes in his terrors, to cast
His fears on the future, his paM on the past,
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, look aloft," and depart!

"Good-by, Proud Vorld!" R. W. EMERSON.
1. GOOD-BY, proud world I'm going home;
Thou'rt not my friend; I am not thine:
Too long through weary crowds I roam: -
A river ark on the ocean brine,
Too long I am tossed like the driven foam:
But now, proud world, I 'm going home.
2. Good-by to Flattery's fawning face;
To Grandeur, with his wise grimace;
To upstart Wealth's averted eye;
To supple office, low and high;
To crowded halls, to court and street,
To frozen hearts,,and hasting feet,
To those who go, and those who come, -
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home.
3. I go to seek my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed in yon green hills alone;
A secret lodge in a pleasant land,



Whose groves the frolic fairies planned,
Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,*
And evil'men have never trod, -
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
4. 0, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I mock at the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and pride of man,
At the sophist t schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet ?

The Village Blacksmith. LONGFELLOW.
1. UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands:
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
2. His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat;
He earns whatever he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
3. Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell
When the evening sun is low.
4. And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
Roundelay is, properly, a short poem, of thirteen lines; but it here
means a song.
t A sophist is a pretended philosopher.



They love to see the flaming forge,
Anr hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
5. He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,*
And it makes his heart rejoice.
6. It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
7. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, -
Onward through life he goes:
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
8. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought,
Thus on its sounding anvilt shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

A Sacred Melody. LEGGETT.
1. IF yon bright stars which gem the night
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits reiinite,j
Whom death has torn asunder here;
A collection of singers. It is pronounced quire."
t An anvil is the smooth iron block on which a blacksmith strikes a
heated iron.
t The two dots like periods, over the u, in this word, are called a
dieresis, and show that the u must be pronounced separately from the e

a 7'



How sweet it were at once to die,
And leave this blighted orb afar, -
Mixed soul with soul, to cleave the sky,
And soar away from star to star.
2. But, oh! how dark, how drear, how lone,
Would seem the brightest world of bliss,
If, wandering through each radiant one,
We failed to find the loved of this!
If there no more the ties should twine,
Which death's cold hand alone can sever,
Ah! then these stars in mockery shine,
More hateful, as they shine forever.
3. It cannot be! each hope and fear
That lights the eye or clouds the brow
Proclaims there is a happier sphere
Than this bleak world that holds us now!
There is a voice which sorrow hears,
When heaviest weighs life's galling chain;
'T is Heaven that whispers, Dry thy tears:
The pure in heart shall meet again'"

i WHEN Abraham sat at his tent door, according to
his custom, waiting to entertain strangers, he espied an
old man stopping and -leaning on his staff, weary with
age and travel, coming towards him, who was a hun-
dred years of age.
2. He received him kindly, washed his feet, provided
supper, and caused him to sit down; but observing that
the old man ate and prayed not, nor begged for a bless-
ing on his meat, asked him why he did not worship
the God of heaven.
3. The old man told him that he worshiped the fire
only, and acknowledged no other God; at which answer
Abraham grew so zealously angry that he thrust the
old man out of his tent, and exposed him to all the evils
An apologue is a moral fable.


of the night and an unguarded condition. When the
old man was gone, God called to Abraham, and asked
him where the stranger was. lie replied, I thrust him
away, because he did not worship thee.
4. God answered him, I have suffered him these
hundred years, although he dishonored me; and couldst
thou not endure him one night, when he gave thee no
trouble? Upon this, saith the story, Abraham fetched
him back again, and gave him hospitable entertain-
ment and wise instruction. Go thou and do likewise,
and thy charity will be rewarded by the God of Abra-


The Youth and the Philosopher. WHITEHEAD.
1. A GRECIAN youth of talents rare,
Whom Plato's* philosophic care
Had formed for Virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,
Would often boast his matchless skill,
To curb the steed and guide the wheel; t
And as he passed the gazing throng,
With graceful ease, and smacked the thong, .
The idiot wonder they expressed
Was praise and transport to his breast.
2. At length, quite vain, he needs would show
His master 5 what his art could do;
And bade his slaves the chariot lead
To Academus' ii sacred shade.
The trembling grove confessed its fright,
The wood-nymphs started at the siglt;

Plato was a very distinguished philosopher of Greece, who lived
about four hundred years before the birth of Christ.
t To curb the steed and guide the wheel,"- that is, to drive a
horse in a vehicle or carriage.
$ Snap the whlip.
Plato was his master.
ij Academus was a grove near Athens, where Plato instructed his
scholars. From this word our academy is derived.



The Muses drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmost shades retire.
3. Howe'er, the youth, with forward air,
Bows to the sage, and mounts the car:
The lash resounds, the coursers spring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring;
And gathering crowds, with eager eyes,
And shouts, pursue him as he flies.
4. Triumphant to the goal returned,
With nobler thirst his bosom burned;
And now along the indented plain
The self-same track he marks again,
Pursues with care the nice design,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
5. Amazement seized the circling crowd;
The youth with emulation glowed;
Even bearded sages hailed the boy,
And all but Plato gazed with joy.
6. For he, deep-judging sage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field;
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flushed with hope, had caught his eye,
"Alas! unhappy youth," he cried,
"Expect no praise from me," and sighed. .
"With indignation I survey : I
Such skill and judgment thrown away;
The time profusely squandered there
On vulgar arts beneath thy care,
If well employed, at less expense,
Had taught thee honor, virtue, sense,
And raised thee from a coachman's fate,
To govern men, and guide the state."

Cruelty to Animals. DR. CHALMERS.
1. THE beasts of the field are not so many autom'ata*
without sensation, and just so constructed as to give
This word is the plural number of automaton, a self-movinf a-


forth all the natural signs and expressions of it. Na-
ture hath not practiced this universal deception upon
our species. These poor animals just look, and trem-
ble, and give forth the very indications of suffering that
we do.
2. Theirs is the distinct cry of pain. Theirs is the
Unequivocal* physiognomyt of pain. They put on the
same aspect of terror on the demonstrations of a men-
aced blow. They exhibit the same distortions of agony
after the infliction of it.
3. The bruise, or the burn, or the fracture, or the
deep incision, or the fierce encounter with one of equal
or superior strength, just affects them similarly to our-
selves. Their blood circulates as ours. They have
pulsations in various parts of the body like ours. They
sicken, and they grow feeble with age, and, finally,
they die, just as we do.
4. They possess the same feelings; and, what ex-
poses them to like suffering from another quarter, they
S possess the same instincts with our own species. The
i. lioness, robbed of her whelps, causes the wilderness to
Spring aloud with the proclamation of her wrongs; or
the bird, whose little household has been stolen, fills
Wnd saddens all the grove with melodies of deepest
S pathos.
S 5. All this is palpable even to the general and un-
Slearned eye; and when the physiologist jj lays open the
recesses of their system by means of that scalpel,
under whose operation they just shrink and are con-
vulsed as any living subject of our own species, there
stands forth to view the same sentient apparatus, and
furnished with the same conductors for the transmis-
Ssion of feeling to every minuitest pore upon the surface.
6. Theirs is unmixed and unalitigated pain, the
agonies of martyrdom, without the alleviation of the

Unequivocal, clear, not doubtful.
t Physiognomy, expression of the countenance.
t Pathos, passion, or feeling.
S Palpable, plain, easily seen.
I Physiologist, one who is acquainted with animals, plants, and other
objects of nature.
Scalpel, a knife used in dissection.



hopes and the sentiments whereof they are incapable.
When they lay them down to die, their only fellowship
is with suffering; for in the prison-house of their beset
and bounded faculties, there can no relief be afforded
by communion with other interests or other things.
7. The attention does not lighten their distress as it
does that of man, by carrying off his spirit from that
existing pungency* and pressure which might else be
overwhelming. There is but room in their mysterious
economy for one inmate, and that is, the absorbing
sense of their own single and concentrated anguish.
8. And so, in that bed of torment whereon the wound-
ed animal lingers and expires, there is an unexplored
depth and intensity of suffering which the poor dumb
animal itself cannot tell, and against which it can offer
no remonstrance, an untold and unknown amount of
wretchedness, of which no articulate voice gives utter-
ance. But there is an eloquence in its silence; and the
very shroud which disguises it only serves to aggra-
vate its horrors.

The River.--S. G. GOODRICH.t 4
1. O, TELL me, pretty river!
Whence do thy waters flow ?
And whither art thou roaming,
So pensive and so slow ?
2. ," My birthplace was the mountain;
My nurse, the April showers;
My cradle was a fountain, A,
O'ercurtained by wild flowers.
3. "One morn I ran away,
A madcap, hoyden rill;
And many a prank that day
I played down the hill!
Pungency, the power of pricking, or piercing.
t Mr. Goodrich is the author of those works which young'personbhave
so much admired, and which have appeared under the name of Peter



4. And then, 'mid meadowy banks,
I flirted with the flowers,
That stooped, with glowing lips,
To woo me to their bowers.
5. But these bright scenes are o'er,
And darkly flows my wave;
I hear the ocean's roar,
And there must be my grave!"


Bernardine du Born.- MRs. L. H. SIGOURNEY
1. KING HENRY sat upon his throne,
And, full of wrath and scorn,
His eye a recreant knight surveyed-
Sir Bernardine du Born.
And he that haughty glance returned
Like lion in his lair,
And loftily his unchanged brow
Gleamed through his crisped hair.
2. "Thou art a traitor to the realm,
Lord of a lawless band,
The bold in speech, tle fierce in broil,
The trouble of our land;
Thy castles and thy rebel towers
Are forfeit to the crown,
And thou beneath the Norman axe
Shalt end thy base renown!
3. Deign'st thou no word to bar thy doom,
Thou with strange madness fired?
Hath reason quite forsook thy breast ?"
Plantagenet inquired.

King Henry had found Sir Bernardine du Born guilty of great mis-
demeanors, and threatened to cause him to be put to death. Sir Ber-
nardine, who had been the playmate of Prince Henry, the son of the
king, recalls to the king's recollection his intimacy with the young
prince; and the king, deeply affected by the mention of the name of
his son, forgives Sir Bernardine, and takes him into favor. Plantage-
net, in the third stanza, was the family name of King Henry.


Sir Bernard turned him toward the king,
He blenched not in his pride;
"My reason failed, my gracious liege,
The year Prince Henry died."
4. Quick at that name a cloud of woe
Passed o'er the monarch's brow;
Touched was that bleeding chord of love,
To which the mightiest bow.
Again swept back the tide of years;
Again his first-born moved,
The fair, the graceful, the sublime, -
The erring, yet beloved.
5. And ever, cherished by his side,
One chosen friend was near,
To share in boyhood's ardent sport,
Or youth's-untamed career:
With him the merry chase he sought
Beneath the dewy morn.
With him in knightly tourney rode,
This Bernardine du Born.
6. Then in the mourning father's soul
Each trace of ire grew dim,
And what his buried idol loved
Seemed cleansed of guilt to him;
And faintly through his tears he spake,
"God send his grace to thee,
And for the dear sake of the dead,
Go forth- unscathed and free."

1. ALMIGHTY Framer of the skies,
O let our pure devotion rise

Unpunished, or unhurt.
t This "marvelous boy," "the sleepless soul that perished in his
pride," was born at Bristol, in 1752. He died before he was eighteen.
These verses were written when the author was only eleven years of


Like incense in thy sight!
Wrapt in impenetrable shade,
The texture of our souls was made,
Till thy command gave light.
2. The sun of glory gleamed, the ray
Refined the darkness into day
And bid the vapors fly:
Impelled by his eternal love,
He left his palaces above,
To cheer our gloomy sky.
3. How shall we celebrate the day
When God appeared in mortal clay,
The mark of worldly scorn;
When the archangel's heavenly lays
Attempted the Redeemer's praise,
And hailed Salvation's morn !
4. A humble form the Godhead wore,
The pains of poverty he bore,
To gaudy pomp unknown:
Though in a human walk he trod,
Still was the man Almighty God,
In glory all his own.
5. Despised, oppressed, the Godhead bears
The torments of this vale of tears,
Nor bids his vengeance rise:
He saw the creatures he had made
Revile his power, his peace invade,
He saw with Mercy's eyes.

Description of the Pampas,* between Buenos Ayres and
1. THE great plain, or Pampas, on the east of the
Cordillera, is about nine hundred miles in breadth; and
Pampas are vast plains, covered with luxuriant grass, on which
immense numbers of wild horses and cattle feed, The Indians of Buenos
Ayres ride their horses among the wild animals, and with great dexter-
ity throw the lasso, or leather strap, round the neck of a wild horse,
bull, or other animal which they wish to take, and by a sudden jerk
throw the animal on the ground, and then-ecure him.

I -



the part which I have visited, though under the same
latitude, is divided into regions of different climate and
produce. .1
2. On leaving Buenos Ayres, the first of these regions
is covered, for one hundred and eighty miles, with
clover and thistles; the second region, which extends
for four hundred and fifty miles, produces long grass;
and the third region, which reaches the base of the
Cordillera, is a grove of low trees and shrubs.
3. The second and third of these regions have nearly
the same appearance throughout the year, for the trees
and shrubs are evergreens, and the immense plain of
grass only changes its color from green to brown; but
the first region varies, with the four seasons of the year,
in a most extraordinary manner.
4. In winter, the leaves of the thistles are large and
luxuriant, and the whole surface of the country has the
rough appearance of a turnip-field. The clover, in this
season, is extremely rich and strong, and the sight of
the wild cattle grazing in full liberty on such pasture is
very beautiful.
5. In spring, the clover has vanished, the leaves of
the thistles have extended along the ground, and the
country still looks like a rough crop of turnips. In less
than a month the change is most extraordinary; the
whole region becomes a luxuriant wood of enormous
thistles, which have suddenly shot up to a height of ten
or eleven feet, and are all in full bloom.
6. The road or path is hemmed in on both sides; the
view is completely obstructed; not an animal is to be
seen; and the stems of the thistles are so close to each
other, and so strong, that, independent of the prickles
with which they are armed, they form an impenetrable
7. The sudden growth of these plants is quite aston-
ishing; and though it would be an unusual misfortune
in military history, yet it is really possible that an
invading army, unacquainted with this country, might
be imprisoned by these thistles before it had time to
escape from them.
8. The summer is not over before the scene under-



goes another rapid change: the thistles suddenly lose
their sap and verdure, their heads droop, the leaves
shrink and fade, the stems become black and dead, and
they remain rattling with the breeze one against another,
until the violence of the pampero, or hurricane, levels
them with the ground, where they rapidly decompose
and disappear; the clover rushes up, and the scene is
again verdant.

The Love of Nature. BEATTIE.
1. IT is strange to observe the callousness of some
men, before whom all the glories of heaven and earth
pass in daily succession, without touching their hearts,
elevating their fancy, or leaving any durable remem-
2. Even of those who pretend to sensibility, how
many are there to whom the luster of the rising or set-
ting sun, the sparkling concave of the midnight sky, the
mountain forest tossing and roaring to the storm, or
warbling with all the melodies of a summer evening;-
3. the sweet interchange of hill and dale, shade and
sunshine, grove, lawnv and water, which an extensive
landscape offers to the view; the scenery of the ocean,
so lovely, so majestic, and so tremendous, and the
many pleasing varieties of the animal and vegetable
4. could never afford so much real satisfaction as the
steam and noise of a ball-room, the insipid fiddling
and squeaking of an opera, or the vexations and
wranglings of a card-table!
5. But some minds there are of a different make,
who, even in the early part of life, receive from the
contemplation of Nature a species of delight which they
would hardly exchange for any other; and who, as
avarice and ambition are not the infirmities of that
The scholar must recollect, that when a sentence is divided as this
is, the voice must not be permitted to full until the sentence is finished
with the period. Several sentences in this lesson have purposely been
improperly divided, in order to test the scholar's attention to this rule

^~ ... _


period, would, with equal sincerity and rapture, ex-
claim, -*
6. I care not, Fortune, what you me deny;
You cannot rob me of free Nature's graae;
You cannot shut the windows of the sky,
Through which Aurora shows her brightening face;
You cannot bar my constant feet to trace
The woods and lawns by living stream at eve."
7. Such minds have always in them the seeds of true
taste, and frequently of imitative genius. At least,
though their enthusiastic or visionary turn of mind, as
the man of the world would call it, should not always
incline them to practice poetry or painting, we need not
scruple to affirm, that, without some portion of this
enthusiasm, no person ever became a true poet or
8. For he who would imitate the works of Nature
must first accurately observe them; and accurate ob-
servation is to be expected from those only who take
Great pleasure in it.
9. To a mind thus disposed, no part of creation is
. indifferent. In the crowded city and howling wilder-
ness, in the cultivated province and solitary isle, in the
flowery lawn and craggy mountain, in the murmur of
the rivulet and in the uproar of the ocean, in the radi-
ance of summer and gloom of winter, in the thunder of
heaven and in the whisper of the breeze, he still finds
something to rouse or to soothe his imagination, to draw
forth his affections, or to employ his understanding.
10. And from every mental energy that is not at-
tended with pain, and even from some of those that
are, as moderate terror and pity,- a sound mind derives
satisfaction; exercise being equally necessary to the-body
and the soul, and to both equally productive of health
and pleasure.
11. This happy sensibility to the beauties of Nature
should be cherished in young persons. It engages them
to contemplate the Creatorin his wonderful works; it
pulifies and harmonizes the soul, and prepares it for
moral and intellectual discipline;
See note on previous page.



12. it supplies a never-failing source of amusement;
it contributes even to bodily health; and, as a strict
analogy subsists between material and moral beauty,
it leads the heart, by an easy transition, from the one
to the other, and thus recommends virtue for its trans-
cendent loveliness, and makes vice appear the object of
contempt and abomination.
13. An intimate acquaintance with the best descrip-
tive poets, Spenser, Milton, and Thomson, but, above
all, with the divine Georgic, -joined to some practice in
the art of drawing, will promote this amiable sensibility
in early years; for then the face of Nature has novelty
superadded to its other charms, the passions are not
preengaged, the heart is free from care, and the imag-
ination warm and romantic.

Proportionate Lengths of the Necks and Legs of An.-
imals. Altered from RAY.
1. I SHALL now add another instance of the wisdom
of Nature, or rather the God of nature, in adapting the
parts of the same animal one to another; and that is,
the proportioning the length of the neck to that of the
2. Terrestrial animals, birds as well as quadrupeds,
are ended with legs, upon which they stand, and
wherewith they transfer themselves from place to place,
to gather their food, and for other conveniences of life.
3. The trunk of their body, therefore, must needs be
elevated above the superficies of the earth, so that they
could not conveniently either gather their food or drink,
if they wanted a neck; therefore Nature hath not only
finished them therewith, but with such a one as is
adapted to their wants.
4. The elephant has, indeed, a short neck, on account
of the excessive weight of his head and teeth, which to
a long neck would have been insupportable; but he is



provided with a trunk, wherewith, as with a hand, he
takes up his food and drink, and brings it to his mouth.
5. But the necks of birds and quadrupeds are com-
mensurate with their legs; that is, th9se which have
long legs hare long necks, and those that have short legs
short ones, s is seen in the crocodile, and all lizards.
Those that, like fishes, have no legs, as they do not
want necks, so neither have they any.
6. This equality between the length of the legs and
neck is especially seen in beasts that feed constantly
upon grass, whose necks and legs are always very near
equal; very near, I say, because the neck must neces-
sarily have some advantage, in that it cannot hang per-
pendicularly down, but must incline a little.
7. Moreover, because this sort of creature must needs
hold their heads down, in an inclining posture, for a
considerable time together, while seeking their food, or
grazing in the field, their necks are so constructed
that such a position will not be fatiguing to the mus-
cles, and the weight of the head be supported without
8. It is also observable, that birds which wade much
in the water have long legs, and necks correspondingly
long. Only in these, too, there is an exception, exceed-
ing worthy to be noted; for some water-fowl, which are
palmipeds or whole-footed, have very long necks, and
yet but short legs, as swans and geese, and some In-
dian birds; but even in these cases we may observe the
admirable providence of Nature.
9. For such birds as were to search and gather their
food, whether herbs or insects, in the bottom of pools
and deep waters, have long necks for that purpose,
though their legs, as is most convenient for swimming,
be but short.
10. Whereas, there are no land-fowl to be seen with
short legs and long necks, but all have their necks in
length commensurate with their legs. Those birds,
however, that can live equally well on land or in the
water, such, for example, as geese, can gather their
food upon land conveniently enough, notwithstanding



the length of their necks, and can feed themselves fat
upon land.
11. Yet is there not one land-bird which hath its
neck thus disproportionate to its legs; nor one water one
neither, but such as are destined by nature in such man-
ner as we have mentioned, to search and gather their
food; for nature makes not a long neck to no purpose.

The Farmer's Life. BLOOMFIELD.*
1. THE farmer's life displays in every part
A moral lesson to the sensual heart.
Though in the lap of plenty, thoughtful still,
He looks beyond the present good or ill;
Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth,
From changeful seasons, or capricious earth!
But views the future with the present hours,
And looks for failures as he looks for showers;
For casual as for certain want prepares,
And round his yard the reeking haystack rears;
Or clover, blossomed lovely to the sight,
His team's rich store through many a wintry night.
2. What though abundance round his dwelling
Though ever moist his self-improving meads
Supply his dairy with a copious flood,
And seem to promise unexhausted food, -
That promise fails when buried deep in snow,
And vegetable juices cease to flow.
3. For this his plow turns up the destined lands,
Whence stormy winter draws its full demands;
For this the seed minutely small he sows,
Whence, s6und and sweet, the hardy turnip grows.

Robert Bloomfield, the author of this piece, was the son of a tailor,
and was apprenticed to a shoemaker. The only education which he had
was from his mother, who taught him to read. He was fond of read-
ing, and found means to cultivate his mind. He was a modest and a
meritorious writer. He died in 1823.

--~L~ L,-l~b~I~L_~_, ~ _I_ ~-~-~CiLL IC-L~r~C ~L -L~I~ -~ -- ~ -LI,_ -~ ~-1Ln ~ ~ JI1---l~f_~_ ~~W --1 --C41



4. But how unlike to April's closing days!
High climbs the sun, and darts his powerful rays;
Whitens the fresh-drawn mold, and pierces through
The cumbrous clods that tumble round the plow.
)'er heaven's bright azure hence with joyful eyes
The farmer sees dark clouds assembling rise;
Borne o'er his fields a heavy torrent falls,
And strikes the earth in hasty driving squalls.
5. Right welcome down, ye precious drops !"' he
But soon, too soon, the partial blessing flies.
"'Boy, bring the harrows; try how deep the rain
Has forced its way." He comes, but comes in vain;
Dry dust beneath the bubbling surface lurks,
And mocks his pains the more, the more he works.
6. Still, 'midst huge clods, he plunges on forlorn,
That laugh his harrows and the showers to scorn.
E'en thus the living clod, the stubborn fool,
Resists the stormy lectures of the school,
Till tried with gentler means, the dunce to please,
His head imbibes right reason by degrees;
As when from eve till morning's wakeful hour,
Light constant rain evinces secret power,
And, ere the day resumes its wonted smiles,
Presents a cheerful, easy task to Giles.
7. Down with a touch the mellow soil is laid,
And yon tall crop next claims his timely aid;
Thither well-pleased he hies, assured to find
Wild trackless haunts, and objects to his mind.

Travels in Africa. MUNGO PARK.
[Next in interest and novelty to the travels of Bruce, are those of
Mungo Park, in Central Africa. Mr. Park was horn at Fowlshiels,
near Selkirk, on the 10th of September, 1771. He studied medicine,
and performed a voyage to Bencoolen, in the capacity of assistant-sur-
geon to an East Indiaman. The African Association, founded in 1778
for the purpose of promoting discovery in the interior of Africa,
had sent out several travelers, -John Ledyard, Lucas, and Major
Houghton, all of whom had died. Park, however, undeterred by tbhe


r: t.~r


examples, embraced the society's offer, and set sail in May, 1795. On
the 21st of June following, he arrived at Jillifree, on the banks of the
Gambia. He pursued his journey towards the kingdom of Bambarra,
and saw the great object of his mission, the river Niger flowing towards
the east.* The sufferings of Park during his journey, the various inci-
dents he encountered, his captivity among the Moors, and his descrip-
tion of the inhabitants, their manners, trade and customs, constitute a
narrative of the deepest interest. The traveler returned to England
towards the latter end of the year 1797, when all hope of him had been
abandoned, and in 1799 he published his travels. The style is simple
and manly, and replete with a fine moral feeling. One of his adven-
tures (which had the honor of being turned into verse by the Duchess of
Devonshire) is thus related. The traveler had reached the town of
Sego, the capital of Bambarra, and wished to cross the river towards
the residence of the king :- ]
1. I WAITED more than two hours without having an
opportunity of crossing the river, during which time
the people who had crossed carried information to Man-
song, the king, that a white man was waiting for a
passage, and was coming to see him.
2. He immediately sent over one of his chief men,
who informed me that the king could not possibly see
me until he knew what had brought me into his coun-
try; and that I must not presume to cross the river
without the king's permission.
3. He therefore advised me to lodge at a distant vil-
lage, to which he pointed, for the night; and said that
in the morning he would give me further instructions
how to conduct myself.
4. This was very discouraging. However, as there
was no remedy, I set off for the village, where I found,
to my great mortification, that no person would admit
me into his house.
5. I was regarded with astonishment and fear, and
was obliged to sit all day without victuals, in the shade
of a tree; and the night threatened to be very uncomfort-
able, for the wind rose, and there was great appear-
ance of a heavy rain, and the wild beasts are so very
The course of the Niger was long considered a geographical prob-
lem. Many travelers have endeavored to ascertain its source and ter-
mination. It was reserved to the Landers (John and Richard) to solve
the problem. They ascertained, in the year 1830, that the river Niger
flows into the Atlantic, about five degrees N. lat. Its most common
name in Africa is The Quarra. It is sometimes called the Joliba. The
travels of the two Landers are highly recommended to the perusal of
young persons.

9A .T .. > ,. -



numerous in the neighborhood, that I slhuld have been
under the necessity of climbing up a tree, and resting
amongst the branches.
6. About sunset, however, as I was preparing to
pass the night in this manner, and had turned my
horse loose, that he might graze at liberty, a woman,
returning from the labors of the field, stopped to ob-
serve me, and perceiving that I was weary and de-
jected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly ex-
plained to her; whereupon, with looks of great com-
passion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me
to follow her.
7. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted up
a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might
remain there for the night. Finding that I was very
hungry, she said she would procure me something to
eat. She accordingly went out, and returned in a
short time with a very fine fish, which, having caused
to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for
8. The rites of hospitality being thus performed
towards a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress
(pointing to the mat, and telling me I might sleep there
without apprehension) called to the female part of her
family, who had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed
astonishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton,
in which they continued to employ themselves great
part of the night.
9. They lightened their labor by songs, one of which
was composed extempore, for I was myself the subject
of it. It was sung by one of the young women, the
rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet
and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were
these:- -
10. "The winds roared, and the rains fell. The
poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under
our .tree. He has no mother to bring him milk-no
wife to grind his corn. Chorus: Let us pity the white
man-no mother has he," &c. &c.*-
* These simple wordswere thus turned into verse, by the Duchess ol
Devonshire: --



11. Trifling as this recital may appear to the reader,
to a person in my situation the circumstance was
affecting in the highest degree. I was oppressed by
such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my
eyes. In the morning I presented my compassionate
landlady with two of the four brass buttons which
remained on my waistcoat-the only recompense I
could make her.

April Day.*
1. ALL day the low-hung clouds have dropt
Their garnered fullness down;
All day that soft gray mist hath wrapped
Hill, valley, grove, and town.
2. There has not been a sound to-day
To break the calm of nature;
Nor motion, I might almost say,
Of life, or living creature; -
Of waving bough, or warbling bird,
Or cattle faintly lowing; -
I could have half believed I heard ""
The leaves and blossoms growing.

The loud wind roared, the rain fell fast,
The white man yielded to the blast;
He sat him down beneath a tree,
For weary, sad and faint, was he;
And ah! no wife or mother's care
SFor him the milk or corn prepare.
Chorus: The white man shall our pity share;
Alas! no wife or mother's care
For him the milk or corn prepare.
The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
Aad mercy's voice has hushed the blast ;
The wind is heard in whispers low;
The white man far away must go;
Bat ever in his heart will bear
Remembrance of the negro's care.
Chorus: Go, white man, go but with thee bear
The negro's wish, the negro's prayer,
Remembrance of the negro's care."
By the author of Ellen Fitzarthur

4 '



3. I stood to hear- I love it well -
The rain's continuous sound;
Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,
Down straight into the ground.
4. For leafy thickness is not yet
Earth's naked breast to screen,
Though every dripping branch is set
With shoots of tender green.
5. Sure, since I looked at early morn,
Those honeysuckle buds
Have swelled to double growth; that thorn
Hath put forth larger studs.
6. That lilac's cleaving cones have burst,
The milk-white flowers revealing;
Even now, upon my senses first
Methinks their sweets are stealing.
7. The very earth, the steamy air,
Is all with fragrance rife!
And grace and beauty everywhere
Are flushing into life.
8. Down, down they come, those fruitful sta r I
Those earth-rejoicing drops!
A momentary deluge pours,
Then thins, decreases, stops.
And ere the dimples on the stream
Have circled out of sight,
Lo from the west a parting gleam
Breaf amber light.

Travelers' Stories -Gulliver's Travels.- SWIFT.
[Nothing is more common than to hear persons who have been "-
abroad relating wonderful stories of what they have seen or heard in
foreign countries. Few books are more interesting, both to the g
and the old, than those which relate the adventures of an v- M
eler; whose statements are without exaggeration, and who telNWI-
ing but the truth. But so many books had bee published Sle thk
& 4
k *-


improbable tales, that Dean Swift, a very distinguished and witty author,
was induced to write a book to ridicule such stories. Accordingly he
wrote a story called "The Travels of Lemuel Gulliver," in which he
represented his hero at one time cast among a people of very diminutive
stature, called Lilliputians, who were represented as not more than five
or six inches high ; and at another time he throws him amongst a peo-
ple described as ninety feet high. The following lesson describes Gul-
liver at Brobdingnag, among the latter people. He is taken in charge
by a young lady named GluA'dalclitch, connected with the court, who
had two boxes made in which to keep him and carry him about.]

1. I SHOULD have lived happy enough in that coun-
try, if my littleness had not exposed me to several ridic-
ulous and troublesome accidents, some of which 1
shall venture to relate. Glum'dalclitch often carried
me into the gardens of the court in my smaller box,
and would sometimes take me out of it and hold me in
her hand, or set me down to walk.
2. I remember, before the dwarf left the queen, he
followed us one day into those gardens, and my nurse
having set me down, he and I being close together,
near some dwarf apple-trees, 1 must need show my
wit by a silly allusion between him and the trees,
which happens to hold in their language as it doth in
3. Whereupon the malicious rogue, watching his
opportunity, when I was walking under one of them,
shook it directly over my head, by which a dozen apples,
each of them near as large as a Bristol barrel, came
tumbling about my ears: one of th on the
back as I chanced to stoop, and k l flat
on my face; but I received no o t the
dwarf was pardoned at my desire, becat se had given
the provocation.
4. Another day Glum'dalclitch left me on a smooth
grass-plat to divert myself, while she walked at some
distance with her governess. In the mean time there
suddenly fell such a violent shower of hail, that I was
immediately by the force of it struck to the ground;
and when I was down, the hail-stones gave me such
cruel bangs all over the body, as if I had been pelted
with tennis-balls: however, I made a shift to creep on
all iurs, and shelter myself by lying flat on my face,

I _A


on the lee-side* of a border of lemon thyme, t but so.
bruised from head to foot that I could not go abroad in
ten days.
5. Neither is this at all to be wondered at, because
nature in that country observing the same proportion
through all her operations, a hail-stone is near eighteen
hundred times as large as one in Europe, which I can
assert upon experience, having been so curious as to
weigh and measure them.
6. But a more dangerous accident happened to me
in the same garden, when my little nurse, believing she
had put me in a secure place, which I often entreated
her to do, that I might enjoy my own thoughts, and
having left my box at home to avoid the trouble of
carrying it, went to another part of the garden, with her
governess and some ladies of her acquaintance.
7. While she was absent, and out of hearing, a
small white spaniel belonging to one of the chief garden-
ers, having got by accident into the garden, happened
to range near the place where I lay; the dog, following
the scent, came directly up, and taking me in his mouth,
ran straight to his master, wagging his tail, and set
me gently on the ground.
8. By good fortune, he had been so well taught,
that I was carried between his teeth without the least
hurt, or even tearing my clothes. But the poor gar-
dener, who knew me well, and had a great kindness for
me, was imn ia ble fright; he gently took me up in
both his h3 dp asked me how I did: but I was so
amazed at of breath that I could not speak a
9. In a few minutes I came to myself, and he car-
ried me safe to my little nurse, who by this time had
returned to the place where she left me, and was in
cruel agonies when I did not appear, nor answer when
The lee-side and the weather-side are terms used by sailors to ex-
press the direction from which and to which the wind blows. The lee-
side is furthest from the wind ; the weather-side the nearest to the wind.
Thus, if the wind blows from the west, towards the east; the west side
of the vessel is the weather-side, and the east side will be the lee-side.
A lee-shore is the shore towards which the wind blows.
t Thyme, an herb; pronounced time.



she called: she severely reprimanded the gardener on
account of his dog.
10. But the thing was hushed up, and never known
at court; for the girl was afraid of the queen's anger,
and truly, as to myself, I thought it would not be for
my reputation that such a story should go about.
11. This accident absolutely determined Glum'dal-
clitch never to trust me abroad for the future out of
her sight. I had been long afraid of this resolution,
and therefore concealed from her some little unlucky
adventures that happened in those times when I was
left by myself.
12. Once a kite, hovering over the garden, made a
stoop at me; and if I had not resolutely drawn my
hanger, and run under a thick espalier,* he would
have certainly carried me away in his talons. Anoth-
er time, walking to the top of a fresh mole-hill, I fell
S to my neck in the hole through which that animal had
cast up the earth, and coined some story not worth
remembering, to excuse myself for spoiling my clothes.
13. I cannot tell whether I were more pleased or
mortified to observe, in those solitary walks, that the
smaller birds did not appear to be at all afraid of me,
but would hop about me, within a yard's distance,
looking for worms and other food, with as much indif-
ference and security as if no creature at all were near
14. I remember, a thrush had filonfidence to
snatch out of my hand, with his bi e of cake
that Glum'dalclitch had just given me'l breakfast.
When I attempted to catch any of thee birds, they
would boldly turn against me, endeavoring to peck my
fingers, which I durst not venture within their reach;
and then they would hop back unconcerned, to hunt
for worms or snails, as they did before.
15. But one day I took a thick cudgel, and threw
it with all my strength so luckily at a linnet, that I
knocked him down, and seizing him by the neck with
both my hands, ran with him in triumph to my nurse.
Espalier, a row of trees about a garden or in hedges, to protect
plants from the wind or the weather.


However, the bird, who had only been stunned, recov-
ering himself, gave me so many boxes with his wings
on both sides of my head and body, though I held him at
arm's length, and was out of reach of his claws, that
I was twenty times thinking to let him go.
16. But I was soon relieved by one of our servants,
who wrung off the bird's neck; and I had him next day
for dinner, by the queen's command. This linnet, as
near as I can remember, seemed to be somewhat larger
than an England swan.
17. The queen, who often used to hear me talk of
my sea-voyages, and took all occasions to divert me
when I was melancholy, asked me whether I under-
stood how to handle a sail or an oar, and whether a
littlQ exercise of rowing might not be convenient for
my health.
18. I answered, that I understood both very well; for
although my proper employment had been to be sur-
geon or doctor to the ship, yet often, upon a pinch,* I was
forced to work like a common mariner. But I could
not see how this could be done in their country, where
the smallest wherryt was equal to a first-rate man-of-
wart among us, and such a boat as I could manage
would never live in any of their rivers.
19. Her majesty said, if I would contrive a boat,
her own joiner ji should make it, and she would provide
a place for me to sail in. The fellow was an ingenious
workman, by my instructions; in ten days finished
a pleasure ith all its tackling, able conveniently
to hold eig ropeans.
20. When it was finished, the queen was so delight-
ed, that she ran with it in her lap to the king, who
ordered it to be put in a cistern full of water, with me in
it, by way of trial; where I could not manage my twos
sculls, or little oars, for want of room. But the queen
This expression is often used in common conversation, and means
ohen it is necessary.
t Wherry, a light boat used on rivers.
SA man-of-war is a large ship or vessel, carrying guns and soldiers,
as well as sailors.
A boat is said to live, so long as it Jfoats safely.
II A jner is a carpenter who skillfully joins wood together.

5 ''4A


had before contrived another project. She ordered the
joiner to make a wooden trough,* of three hundred feet
long, fifty broad, and eight deep, which being well
pitched,t to prevent leaking, was placed on the floor
along the wall in an outer room of the palace.
21. It had a cockt near the bottom, to let out the
water, when it began to grow stale; and two servants
could easily fill it in half an hour. Here I often used
to row for my own diversion, as well as that of the
queen and her ladies, who thought themselves well
entertained with my skill and agility.
22. Sometimes I would put up my sail, and then my
business was only to steer, while the ladies gave me a
gale with their fans; and, when they were weary,
some of the pages 11 would blow my sail forward with
their breath, while I showed my art by steering star-
board or larboard, as I. pleased. When I had done,
Glum'dalclitch always carried back my boat into her
closet, and hung it on a nail to dry.

Illustrations of Lying.-MRs. OPIE.
1. WHAT constitutes lying? I answer, the intention
to deceive. If this be a correct definition, there must be
passive as well as active lying; and t vho with-
hold.the truth, or do not tell the whole with an
intention to deceive, are guilty of lying, ell as those
who tell a direct or positive falsehood.

Trough, pronounced trof. (See the last two lines on page 13, for
the different modes in which the letters ough are pronounced.)
t Pitched, -pitch is a substance like resin, obtained from the pine-
tree. It is used to fill up the cracks or spaces between the boards in
the bottom and sides of a vessel, to keep out the water.
$ A cock, that is, a spout with a plug, by turning which a liquid may
escape from a vessel. Its proper name is a fau'cet (improperly pro-
nounced.fasset), or spigot. The part which turns is called the tap.
Agility, activity.
|I Pages are boys that attend some great person.
I Starboard, the right-hand side. Larboard, the left-hand side.
These terms are used principally on board ship.




2. Lies are many and various in their nature and
in their tendency; and may be arranged under their
different names, thus: Lies of vanity, lies of flattery,
lies of convenience, lies of interest, lies of fear, lies of
first-rate malignity, lies of second-rate malignity, lies
falsely balled lies of benevolence, lies of real benevo-
lence, and lies of mere wantonness, proceeding from a
depraved love of lying, or contempt for truth.*
3. There are others, probably; but I believe that this
list contains all those which are of the most import-
ance ; -unless, indeed, we may add to it practical lies;
that is, lies acted, not spoken.
4. I shall begin my observations by defining what I
mean by the lie of vanity, both in its active and pas-
sive nature; these lies being undoubtedly the most
common, because vanity is one of the most powerful
springs of human action, and is usually the besetting
sin of every one.
5. Suppose that, in order to give myself consequence,
I were to assert that I was actually acquainted with
certain great and distinguished personages whom I had
merely met in fashionable society. Suppose, also, I
were to say that I was at such a place, and such an
assembly, on such a night, without adding, that I was
there, not as an invited guest, but only because a ben-
efit concert was held at these places, for which I had
tickets. These would both be lies of vanity; but the
one would be an active, the other a passive lie.
6. In the I should assert a direct falsehood, in
the other I slild withhold part of the truth; but both
would be lies, because in both my intention was to
7. But though we are frequently tempted to be guilty
of the active lies of vanity, our temptations to its pas-
sive lies are more frequent still; nor can the sincere
lovers of truth be too much on their guard against this
constantly recurring danger. The following instances
will explain what 1 mean by this observation.
This extract is taken from a very interesting work by Mrs. Opie, in
which she gives a tale illustrating each kind of falsehood which is
here enumerated. Mrs. Opie's work, entitled Illustrations ot Lying,"
is strongly recommended to the perusal of all young persons.



8. If I assert that my motive for & particular action
was virtuous, when I know that it was worldly and
selfish, I am guilty of an active or direct lie. But I
am equally guilty of falsehood, if, while I hear my
actions or forbearances praised, and imputed to decid-
edly worthy motives, when I am conscious that they
sprung from unworthy or unimportant ones, I listen
with silent complacency, and do not positively dis-
claim my right to commendation; only in the one case
I lie directly, in the other indirectly: the lie is active
in the one, and passive in the other.
9. And are we not all of us conscious of having
sometimes accepted incense to our vanity,* which we
knew that we did not deserve? Men have been
known to boast of attention, and even of avowalst of
serious love, from women, and women from men,
which, in point of fact, they never received, and there-
in have been guilty of positive falsehood; but they
who, without any contradiction on their own part,
allow their friends and flatterers to insinuated that they
have been, or are, objects of love and admiration to
those who never professed either, are as much guilty
of deception as the utterers of the above-mentioned
10. Still, it is certain, that many, who would shrink
with moral disgust from committing the latter species
of falsehood, are apt to remain silent, when their van-
ity is gratified without any overt act o eceit on their
part, and are contented to let the fl w belief re-
main uncontradicted. Yet the turpi~ is, in my
opinion, at least, nearly equal, if my definition of lying
be correct; namely, the intention to deceive.
11. This disingenuously passiveness, this deceitful si-
lence, belongs to that extensive and common species of
The expression incense to our vanity means praise which pleases
our vanity. Incense is that which is burnt as an offering to God, in the
hope of pleasing him.
t Avowals, declarations or confessions.
Insinuate, to persuade ; literally, to enter into the bosom of another,
S Overt, open, public.
I1 Turpitude, baseness, wickedness.
I Disingenuous, unfair, meanly artful. Passiveness, unresisting sub-



falsehood, withholding the truth. But this tolerated
sin, denominated white lying, is a sin which I believe
that some persons commit, not only without being con-
scious that it is a sin, but, frequently, with a belief
that, to do it readily, and without confusion, is often a
merit, and always a proof of ability.
12. I am myself convinced that a passive lie is
equally as irreconcilable to moral principles as an ac-
tive one; but I am well aware that most persons are
of a different opinion. Yet, I would say to those who
thus differ from me, if you allow yourselves to violate
truth,- that is, to deceive, for any purpose whatever,
who can.say where this sort of self-indulgence will
submit to be bounded ?
13. Can you be sure that you will not, when strong-
ly tempted, utter what is equally false, in order to
benefit yourself, at the expense of a fellow-creature?
14. All mortals are, at times, accessible* to tempta-
tion; but when we are not exposed to it, we dwell
with complacency on our means of resisting it, on our
principles, and our tried and experienced self-denial:
but, as the life-boat, and the safety-gun, which suc-
ceeded in all that they were made to do while the sea
was calm and the winds still, have been known to fail
when the vessel was tossed on a tempestuous ocean; ,so
those who may successfully oppose principle to tempt-
ation, when the tempestof the passions is not awakened
within their bosoms, may sometimes be overwhelmed by
its power 4en it meets them in all its awful energy
and unexpected violence.
15. But in every warfare against human corrup-
tion, habitual resistance to little tempations is, next to
prayer, the most efficacious aid. He who is to be
trained for public exhibitions of feats of strength is
made to carry small weights at first, which are daily
increased in heaviness, till, at last, he is almost uncon-
sciously able to bear, with ease, the greatest weight
possible to be borne by man.
Accessible, approachable.
t Complacency, a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction.
Energy, powerful activity.
E.fcacious, powerful.




16. In like manner, those who resist the daily tempt-
ation to tell what are apparently trivial and innocent
lies, will be better able to withstand allurements to
serious and important deviations from truth,* and be
more fortified in the hour of more severe temptation
against every species of dereliction from integrity.
17. The active lies of vanity are so numerous, but, at
the same time, are so like each other, that it were use-
less, as well as endless, to attempt to enumerate them.
I shall therefore mention one of them only, that is the
most common of all, namely, the violation of truth
which persons indulge in relative to their age; an
error so generally committed, especially by the unmar-
ried of both sexes, that few persons can expect to be
believed when declaring their age at an advanced
period of life.
18. So common, and therefore so little disreputable,
is this species of lie considered to be, that a sensible
friend of mine said to me, the other day, when I asked
him the age of the lady whom he was going to marry,
" She tells me she is five-and-twenty; I therefore con-
clude that she is five-and-thirty." This was undoubt-
edly spoken in joke; still it was an evidence of the
toleration generally granted on this point.
19. But though it is possible that my friend believed
the lady to be a year or two older than she owned her-
self to be, and thought a deviation from truth on this
subject was of no consequence, 1 am very sure that he
would not have ventured to marry a wx n whom he
suspected of lying on any other occasioi'h
20. This, however, is a lie which does not expose the
ttterer to severe animadversion ;t and for this reason,
probably, that all mankind are so averse to be thought
old, that the wish to be considered younger than the
truth warrants, meets with complacent sympathy and
indulgence, even when years-are notoriously annihi-
lated : at the impulse of vanity.
Deviations, departures.
t Animadversion, censure or blame.
$ Annihilated, destroyed, or reduced to nothing.


The same subject, concluded.
1. THERE is, however, one practical lie more fatal
still, in my opinion; because it is the practice of
schools, and consequently the sin of early life; a
period of existence in which it is desirable, both for
general and individual good, that habits of truth and
integrity should be acquired, and strictly adhered to.
2. I mean the pernicious custom which prevails
amongst boys, and probably girls, of getting their
school-fellows to do their exercises for them, or con-
senting to do the same office for others.
3. Some will say, 1" But it would be so ill-natured
to refuse to write one's school-fellows' exercises, espec-
ially when one is convinced that they cannot write
them for themselves." But, leaving the question of
truth and falsehood unargued a while, let us examine
coolly that of the probable good or evil done to the
parties obliged.
4. What are children sent to school-for To learn.
And when there, what are the motives which are to
make them learn ?- Dread of punishment, hope of
distinction and reward.
5. There are few children so stupid as not to be led
on to industry by one or both of these motives, how-
ever indolent* they may be; but, if these motives be
not allowed their proper scope t of action, the stupid boy
will never take the trouble to learn, if he finds that he
can avoid punishment, and gain reward, by prevailing
on some more diligent boy to do his exercises for him.
6. Those, therefore, who thus indulge their, school-
fellows, do it at the expense of their future welfare,
and are in reality foes, where they fancied themselves
friends. But, generally speaking, they have n6t even
this excuse for their pernicious compliance, siftce it
springs from want of sufficient firmness to say n

S Indolent, idle. t Scope, space or room.
t Pernicious, hurtful.



and deny an earnest request, at the command of prin-
7. But, to such I would put this question: "Which
is the real friend to a child, the person who gives the
sweetmeats which it asks for, at the risk of making it
ill, merely because it were so hard to refuse the dear
little thing; or the person who, considering only the
interest and health of the child, resists its importuni-
ties,* though grieved to deny its request?"
8. No doubt that they would give the palm of real
kindness, real good-nature, to the latter; and in like
manner, the boy who refuses to do his school-fellow's
task is more truly kind, more truly good-natured to
him, than he who, by indulging his indolence, runs the
risk of making him a dunce for life.
9. But some may reply, It would make one odious
in the school, were one to refuse this common compli-
ance with the wants and wishes of one's companions."
Not if the refusal were declared to be the result of
principle, and every aid not contrary to it were offered
and afforded; and there are many ways. in which
school-fellows may assist each other, without any vio-
lation of truth, and without sharing with them in the
practical lie, by imposing on their masters, as theirs,
lessons which they never wrote.
10. This common practice in schools is a practical
lie of considerable importance, from its frequency;
and because, as I before observed, the result of it is,
that the first step which a child sets in wachool is into
the midst of deceit tolerated, cherishedMeceit. For,
if children are quick at learning, they are called upon
immediately to enable others to deceive; and, if dull,
they are enabled to appear in borrowed plumes them-
11. How often have I heard men in mature life say,
"O! I knew such a one at school; he was a very
good fellow, but so dull! I have often done his exer-
Scises for him." Or I have heard the contrary asserted.
S"Such a one was a very clever boy at school, indeed;

Importunities, earnest requests.



be has done many an exercise for me; for he was very
good-natured." And in neither case was the speaker
conscious that he had been guilty of the meanness of
deception himself, or been accessory* to it in another.
19. Parents y.lso correct their children's exercises,
and thereby enable them to put a deceit on the master;
not only by this means convincing their offspring of
their own total disregard of truth, -a conviction doubt-
less most pernicious in its effects on their young
minds, -but as full of folly as it is of laxity$ of princi-
ple, since the deceit cannot fail of being detected, $
whenever the parents are not at hand to afford their
13. But, is it necessary that this school delinquency |
should exist ? Is it not advisable that children should
learn the rudiments of truth, rather than falsehood,
with those of their mother tongue and the classics ? **
14. Surely masters and mistresses should watch over
the morals, while improving the minds, of youth.
Surely parents ought to be tremblingly solicitous that
their children should always speak truth, and be cor-
rected by their preceptor for uttering falsehood.
15. Yet, of what use could it be to correct a child
for telling a spontaneous lie, on the impulse of strong
temptation, if that child be in the daily habit of de-
ceiving his master on system, and of assisting others
to do so7 While the present practice with regard to
exercise-making exists, -while boys and girls go up
to their preceptors with lies in their hands, whence,
sometimes, no doubt, they are transferred to their lips,-

Accessory, assisting. t Pernicious, hurtful.
t Laxity, looseness, or carelessness. Detected, discovered.
11 Delinquency, neglect of duty.
T Rudiments, that part of a thing which is to be learnt first.
** The classics means writers of great reputation. The term is ap-
plied especially to those Greek and Latin authors whose works have been
admired by all subsequent ages ; such as Homer, Hesiod, Herodotus, and
Xenophon, &c., among the Greeks; Cicero, Virgil, Sallust, Caesar,
Tacitus, and many others, among the Romans. The British classics
are the most distinguished writers of the English language, such as
Johnson, Addison, Steele, Pope, Swift, Dryden, Milton, Shakspeare, &c.
The French, German, Spanish, &c., classics are those who are the most
distinguished of the writers of the language respectively.



every hope that truth will be taught in schools, as. a
necessary moral duty, must be totally and forever anni-


September Sports.-ALFRED B. STREET.

1. A MORN in September the east is yet gray;
Come, Carlo! come, Jupe! we'll try fowling to-day:
The fresh sky is bright as the bright face of one,
A sweeter than whom the sun shines not upon;
And those wreathed clouds that melt to the breath of
the south
Are white as the pearls of her beautiful mouth.
2. My hunting-piece glitters, and quick is my task
In slinging around me my pouch and my flask;
Cease, dogs, your loud yelpings; you'll deafen my
Desist from your rambles, and follow my train.

Such was Johnson's known habit of telling the truth, that even
improbable things were believed, if he narrated them. Such was the
respect for truth which his practice of it excited, and such the benefi-
cial influence of his example, that all his intimate companions "were
distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy," derived from association
with him.




3. Here, leave the geese, Carlo, to nibble their grass,
Though they do stretch their long necks, and hiss as
we pass;
And the fierce little bantam,* that flies your attack,
Then struts, flaps, and crows, with such airs, at your
And the turkey, too, smoothing his plumes in your
Then ruffling so proud, as you bound from the place;
EHa! ha! that old hen, bristling up 'mid her brood,
Has taught you a lesson, I hope, for your good;
By the wink of your eye, and the droop of your crest,
I see your maraudings t are now put at rest.
4. The rail-fence is leaped, and the wood-boughs are
And a moss couch is spread for my foot on the ground:
A shadow has dimmed the leaves' amethystj glow, -
The first glance of Autumn, his presence to show:
The beech-nut is ripening above in its sheath, *
Which will burst with the black frost, and drop it
5. The hickory hardens, snow-white, in its bur,
And the cones are full grown on the hemlock and fir;
The hopple's red berries are tinging with brown,
And the tips of the sumach have darkened their down:
The white, brittle Indian-pipe lifts up its bowl,
And the wild turnip's leaf curls out broad, like a scroll.
6. The cohosh displays its white balls and red stems,
And the braid of the mullen is yellow with gems;
While its rich, spangled plumage the golden-rod shows,
And the thistle yields stars to each air-breath that
7. A quick, startling whirr now bursts loud on my
ear, -
The partridge! the partridge! swift pinioned by fear,

Bantam is a term appiled to a particular kind of barn-yard T
remarkable for its spirit, as well as its diminutive size. The Wdj
not to be found in any of our dictionaries, and I am unable to tell
t Maraudings, plunderings.
$ An amethyst is a precious stone of a purple color, and the word is
here used to represent that color.


SLow onward he whizzes; Jupe yelps as he sees,
And we dash through the brushwood, to note where he
8. I see him! his brown, speckled breast is displayed
On the branch of yon maple, that edges the glade;
My fowling-piece rings, Jupe starts forward so fleet,
While loading, he drops the dead bird at my feet:
I pass by the scaurberries' drops of deep red,
In their green, creeping leaves, where he daintily fed,
And his couch near the root, in the warm forest-mould,
Where he wallowed, till sounds his close danger fore-
9. On yon spray the bright oriole dances and sings,
With his rich crimson bosom, and glossy black wings;
And the robin comes warbling, then flutters away,
For I harm not God's creatures so tiny as they.
10. But the quail, whose quick whistle has lured*
me along,
No more will recall his strayed mate with his song;
And the hawk, that is circling so proud in the blue,
Let him keep a look-out, or he'll tumble down, too!
He stoops, the gun echoes, he flutters beneath,
His yellow claws curled, and fierce eyes glazed in
11. Lie there, cruel Arab the mocking-bird now
Can rear her young brood without fear of thy blow;
And the brown wren can warble his sweet little lay,
Nor dread more thy talons to rend and to slay:
And, with luck, an example I'll make of that crow,
For my green, sprouting wheat knew no hungrier foe;
But the rascal seems down from his summit to scoff,
And as I creep near him, he croaks, and is off.
12. The woods shrink away, and wide spreads the
With junipers clustered, and matted with grass;
Trees, standing like ghosts, their arms jagged and bare,
&nd hung with gray lichens,$ like age-whitened hair.
13. The tamarack here and there rising between,
its boughs clothed with rich, star-like fringes of green,
* Lured, drawn or enticed. t Morass, low, moist land.
t Lichen, a kind of moss, that grows on rocks; pronounced litch'en.
5 Tamarack, a pine tree.


And clumps of dense laurels, and brown-headed flags,
And thick, slimy basins, black dotted with snags:t
14. Tread softly, now, Carlo! the woodcock is here:
He rises, -his long bill thrust out like a spear;
The gun ranges on him, -his journey is sped;
Quick scamper, my spaniel, t and bring in the dead!
15. We plunge in the swamp, the tough laurels
are round;
No matter; our shy prey not lightly is found:
Another up darts, but unharmed is his flight;.
Confound it! the sunshine then dazzled my sight;
But the other my shot overtakes as he flies: "
Come, Carlo! come, Carlo! I wait for my prize.
One more, still another, till, proofs of my sway,
From my pouch dangle heads, in a ghastly array.
16. From this scene of exploits, now made birdless,
I pass;
Pleasant Pond gleams before me, a mirror of glass:
The boat's by the marge, with green branches sup-
From the keen-sighted duck my approaches to hide:
A flock spots the lake; now crouch, Carlo, below!
And I move with light paddle, on softly and slow,
By that wide lily island, its meshes that weaves
Of rich yellow globules, and green oval leaves.
17. I watch them; how bright and superb is the
Of their plumage, gold blendedil with purple and green!
How graceful their dipping, -how gliding their way!
Are they not all too lovely to mark as a prey ?
18. One flutters, enchained, in those brown, speck)*ed
His yellow foot striking up bubbles, like gems,
While another, with stretched neck, darts swiftly across
To the grass, whose green points dot the mirror-like

Dense, thick. t Snags, short branches.
t The Spaniel is a dog, remarkable for his sagacity and obedience.
The name is supposed to be corrupted from Hispaniola, the name given
by Columbus to Hayti, or St. Domingo.
Sheen, brightness, or light. II Blended, mingled.


19. But I pause in my toil; their wise leader, the
Eyes keen the queer thicket afloat on the lake;
Now they group close together, both barrels O
What a diving, and screaming, and splashing, are here!
The smoke-curls melt off, as the echoes rebound,-
Hurrah! five dead victims are floating around !
20. But "cloud-land" is tinged now with sunset,
and bright
On the water's smooth polish stretch long lines of light;
The headlands their masses of shade, too, have lain,
And I pull with my spoil to the margin again

San Francisco. COLTON.
1. THE bay of San Francisco resembles a broad in-
land lake, communicating by a narrow channel with
the ocean. This channel, as the tradition of the abo-
rigines runs, was opened by an earthquake, which a
few centuries since convulsed the continent.
2. The town is built on the south bend of the bay,
near its communication with the sea. Its site is a suc-
cession of barren sand-hills, tumbled up into every
variety of shape. No leveling process, on a scale of any
magnitude, has been attempted.
3. The buildings roll up and over these sand-ridges,
like a shoal[j of porpoises over the swell of a wave, only
the fish has much the most order in the disposal of his
head and tail. More incongruous combinations in
architecture ** never danced in the dreams of men.
The writer means that he fired both barrels of his double gun.
tA century is a period of a hundred years.
$ Convulsed, shook or tore to pieces.
Site, place where it was built.
II This word is pronounced shole, and means a great multitude. It is
very commonly miscalled skool.
Incongruous, want of agreement among the parts.
** Architecture, the building of houses, &c.



Brick warehouses, wooden shanties,* sheet-iron huts,
and shaking tents, are blended in admirable confu-
4. But these grotesque habitations have as much
uniformity and sobriety as the habits of those who oc-
cupy them. Hazards are made in commercial trans-
actions, and projects of speculation, that would throw
Wall-street j into spasms. I have seen merchants pur-
chase cargoes without having even glanced into the
invoice. The conditions of the sale were a hundred
per cent. profits to the owner, and costs.
5. In one cargo, when tumbled out, were found
twenty thousand dollars in the single article of red cot-
ton handkerchiefs! "I'll get rid of those among the
wild Indians," said the purchaser, with a shrug of his
6. "I've a water-lot, which I will sell," cries an-
other.-"- Which way does it stretch?" inquire half
a dozen. Right under that craft, there," is the re-
ply. "And what do you ask for it? Fifteen
thousand dollars." I'll take it."- "Then down
with your dust."
7. So, the water-lot, which mortal eyes never yet
beheld, changes its owners without changing its fish.
"I have two shares in a gold mine," cries another.-
"Where are they?" inquire the crowd. Under the
south branch of the Yuba river, which we have almost
turned," is the reply. And what will you take?"
"Fifteen thousand dollars." "I'll give ten."-
Take them, stranger."
8. So the two shares of a possibility of gold under a
branch of the Yuba, where the water still rolls rapid
and deep, are sold for ten thousand dollars paid down !
Is there anything in the Arabian Nightsll that sprpasses
Shanties, huts, or mean buildings.
t Grotesque, having a strange appearance.
t Wall-street is the principal street for commercial transactions in the
city of New York.
A cant term for money.
II The Arabian Nights is a collection of tales too well known to need
description. But it is not so well known that amid the extravagant



9. But glance at that large wooden building, which
looks as if the winds had shingled it, and the powers
of the air pinned its clapboards in a storm. Enter,
and you find a great hall filled with tables, and a mot-
ley group gathered around each. Some are laying
down hundreds, and others thousands, on the turn -of
a card.
10. Each has a bag of grain-gold in his hand, which
he must double or lose; and is only anxious to reach
the table where he can make the experiment. You
would advise him, at least, to purchase a suit of clothes,
or repair his old ones, before he loses his all; but what
cares he for his outward garb,* when piles of the yellow
dust swell and glitter in his excited imagination ?
11. Down goes his bag of gold, -and is lost! But
does he look around for a rope or a pistol, that he may
end his ruin? No; the river bank where he gathered
that bag has more; so he cheers his momentary de-
spondencyt with a strong glass of brandy, and is off
again for the mines. He found the gold by good for-
tune, and has lost it by bad; and now considers him-
self about even with the world.
12. Such is the moral effect of gold-hunting, on a
man whose principles are not as fixed and immova-
ble as the rock. It begins in a lottery and ends in a
lottery, where the blanks out-number the prizes ten to
13. But you are hungry, want a breakfast, turn
into a restaurant, call for ham, eggs, and coffee;
then your bill, six dollars! Your high boots, which
have never seen a brush since you first put them on,
descriptions of genii and other supernatural agents, there is so exact a
representation of the manners and modes of life especially of the hum-
bler classes of the Asiatic nations of the present day, that the perusal
of the tales may well be recommended to all who desire information on
this subject. The origin of these tales is unknown. Some of them
have been traced to a period as early as the fifth century of the Christian
era. It was not, however, until about the year 1704 that they became
known in Europe, and the collection was not fully completed until
within the last twenty-five years. These tales give us a better ac
quaintance with the peculiarities of Eastern nations than has been given
by any traveler.
Garb, dress. t Despondency, trouble in the mind
t Restaurant, a house for eating and drinking.




have given out; you find a pair that can replace them,
- they are a tolerable fit; and now what is the price ?
- Fifty dollars!
14. Your beard has not felt a razor since you went
to the mines; -it must come off, and your frizzled* hair
be clipped. You find a barber; his dull shears hang
in the knots of your hair like a sheep-shearer's in a
fleece matted with burs; his razor he straps on the
leg of his boot, and then hauls away,- starting, at
every pull, some new fountain of tears.
15. You vow you will let the beard go; but then one
side is partly off, and you try the agony again, to get the
other side something like it; and now, what is the
charge for this torture? Four dollars! Night is ap-
proaching, and you must have a place where you can
sleep; to inquire for a bed would be as idle as to hunt
a pearl in the jungle of a Greenland bear. You look
around for the leet of some shanty or tent, and tumble
down for the night; but a thousand fleas dispute the
premises with you, the contest is hopeless, you
tumble out as you tumbled in, and spend the remain-
der of the night in finding a place not occupied by these
aborigines of the soil.
16. But you are not, perhaps, a gold-digger, as I had
supposed; you are a supercargo, and have a valuable
freight, which you wish to land. You have warped 1|
your vessel in till her keel rakes, and yet you are sev-
eral hundred yards off. Some lighter** must be found
that can skim these shallows: your own boats will not
do; after waiting two or three weeks, you get the use
of a scow,tt called a lighter, for which you pay one
hundred and fifty dollars a day.
17. To-morrow you are going to commence un-
loading, and wake betimes; but find that during the
night every soul of your crew had escaped, and put
out for the mines. You rush about on shore to find
Frizzled, tangled, or having short curls.
t Jungle, a thick wood of small trees.
$ See note on page 48. Aborigines, the first inhabitants.
I| Warped, drawn in by means of a rope.
I Rakes, touches the bottom.
** Lighter, a small vessel. tt Scow, a large flat-bottomed boat.



hands, and collect eight or ten loafers,* who will assist
you for fifteen dollars a day, each.
18. Your cargo must be landed; and you close the
bargain, though your fresh hands are already half-seas
over.t The scow is shoved from shore, brought along-
side, loaded with goods, which are tumbled in as an
Irishman dumpst a load of dirt, and then you up oars
and poles, and push for the landing; but the tide has
ebbed too soon, -you are only half-way, and there
your scow sticks fast in the midst of a great mud bot-
tom, from which the last ripple of water has retreated.
19. You cannot get forward, and you are now too
late to get back: night is setting in, and the rain-clouds
are gathering fast; down comes a deluge, drenching
your goods, and filling your open scow. The returning
tide will now be of no use; the scow won't float, except
under water, and that is a sort of floating which don't
suit you; skin for skin, though in this case not dry,
what will a man not give for his own life ?
20. So out you jump, and, by crawling and creeping,
make your way through the mire to the landing, and
bring up against a bin, I where another sort of wallower
gives you a gruntof welcome. Your loafers must be
paid off in the morning, and the scow recovered, or its
loss will cost you half the profits of your voyage.
21. But the storm last night has driven another brig
into yours; and there they both are, like a bear and
bull that have gored and crushed each other. But
misery loves company," and you have it. The storm
which swamped your scow, and stove your brig, last
night, has been busy on shore. Piles of goods heaped
up in every street are in a condition which requires
wreckers I as well as watchmen.
22. But no one here is going to trouble himself about
your misfortunes, nor much about his own. The re-
verses of to-day are to be more than repaired by the
Loafers, idle men.
t Half-seas over, half drunk, or intoxicated.
$ Dumps, drops. Ebbed, flowed away.
II Bin, a wooden box.
I Wreckers are they who seek for wrecks of vessels in hope of find
ing something valuable.




successes of to-morrow. These are only the broken
pickaxes and spades by which the great mine is to be
reached. What is the loss of a few thousands, to one
who is so soon to possess millions?
23. Only a coon* back in his hole, while the buffalo
remains within rifle-shot, -only a -periwinklet lost,
while the whale is beneath the harpoon, only a
farthing candle consumed, while the dowered bride,
blushing in beauty and bliss, is kneeling at the nuptial
altar. But let that pass.
24. But you are not alone in your destitution and
dirt. There are hundreds around you who were quite
as daintily reared, Vnd who are doing out here what
they dodged at home. Do you see that youth in red
flannel shirt and coarse brogans, rolling a wheelbar-
row? He was once a clerk in a counting-house, I in
New York, and came here to shovel up gold as you
scoop up sand.
25. He has been to the mines, gathered no gold, and
returned; and now makes his ten dollars a day by roll-
ing that wheelbarrow. It costs him six, however, to
live, and the other four he loses at monte.'
26. See you that young man with a long whip in his
hand, cracking it over an oA-team ? He was one of
the most learned geologists,]| for his age, in the United
States, and came out here to apply his science to the
discovery of gold deposits: but somehow his diving-
rodsI always dipped wrong; and now he has taken a
The proper name of this little animal is raccoon.
t Periwinkle, a small shell-fish.
$ Counting-house, a house or room used by merchants for keeping their
accounts, writing letters and papers.
Montd, a game.
|I A geologist is one who studies the structure of the earth.
T Diving-rods. This should be divining-rods. The superstition of
mankind sometimes leads them into very ridiculous fancies. Many per-
sons are thought to be possessed of a peculiar power, with which, by means
of a rod made of hazel, called the witch-hazel, they are enabled to dis-
cover springs and metals under ground. The rod, held in their hands
over a place where there is water or gold, no matter how deep under
ground, will slowly bend down towards the subterraneous treasure.
The rod is called a divining-rod, -- sometimes shortened into diving-
rod, and the art of using the rod is called rhabdomancy, from a Greek
word which signifies a rod. The art of divination is of very great an-
tiquity. So early as the time of Joseph, it was understood and practiced
in Egypt. Joseph himself directs his steward, in seeking his stolen cup,
to say, Is not this it in which my Lord drinketh, and whereby he diviS-



rod about which there is no mistake, -so, at least,
think his cattle.
27. He would accumulate a fortune, did he not lose
it as fast as made, in some frenzied speculation. But
look yonder, do you see that young gentleman with
a string of fish, which he offers for sale ? He was the
best Greek and Latin scholar of his class, in Yale Col-
lege; and subsequently, one of the most promising
members of our bar.
28. But he exchanged his Blackstone* for a pick; and
instead of picking fees out of his clients't pockets, he
came here to pick gold out of the mines: but the deuce
was in it, for whenever his pick struck close upon a
deposit, it was no longer there! So he exchanged his
pick for a hook and line, and now angles for pike, pick-
S erel, and perch, and can describe each fish by some apt
.line from Catullus.
29. He would do well at his new piscatory profes-
sion, but for the gilded hook of tlf' gambler. He laughs
at the trout for darting at "a fictitious fly, and then
chases a bait himself equally fanciful and false.
30. But look again, -do you see that pulperia,[| with
its gathered groups of soldiers and sailors, poets and
politicians, merchants and mendicants, doctors and
draymen, clerks and cobblers, trappers and tinkers?
31. That little man who stands behind the bar,** and
deals to each his dram of fire, was once a preacher, ard
deemed almost a prophet, as he depicted the pangs of the
worm which dieth not; but now he has exchanged
that worm for another, but preserved his consistency,
- for this worm,tt too, distilleth delirium and death.
eth?" (See Genesis, chap 44, v. 5.) To divine means to foretell, or to
find out what will happen at some future time.
Blackstone was a distinguished writer, whose works are studied
by all who follow the profession of law. A pick is an abbreviation of
pick-aze, an instrument for digging. The sentence means that he gave
up his profession as a lawyer,,nd went to digging for gold.
t Clients are those who employ lawyers.
$ Catullus was a celebrated Latin poet, who died about forty years
before the birth of Christ.
S Piscatory, fishing. II Pulpdria, a public house, or bar-room.
I Mendicants, beggars. ** Bar, a place where liquor is sold.
tt The worm in a distillery, where spirituous liquor is made, is a long
leaden pipe placed in a tub of water, through which the vapor passes,
and is cooled and converted into spirit.



32. And that thick-set man who stands in the midst
of the crowd, with ruby- countenance- ,id rqveling
eye, whose repartee sets the whole mp6rit in*t ror
and who is now watching the liquolR his gtas to e
if it stirreth itself aright, once lectured in the west onf
the temptations of those who tarry late at the wine;
but now his teetotalism covers all liquors as goodly
gifts, graciously bestowed.
33. But one brief year, and some Dame Quickly*
may describe his pale exitt as that' of his delirious
prototype, $- "I saw him fumble with the sheets, and
play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends."
34. And yet, with all these drawbacks, with all
these gambling-tables, grog-shops, shanties, shavers,
and fleas, San Francisco is swelling into a town of the
highest commercial importance. She commands the
trade of the great valleys through which the Sacranlen-
to and San Joaquin, with their numerous tributaries,$
35. She gathers to her bosom the products and man-
ufactures of the United States, of England, China, the
shores and islands of the Pacific.

r *
California in 1850.-CoLTON.
1. LET US glance at California as she was a few
years since, as she is .ow, and as she is fast becoming
Three years ago, the white population of California
could not have exceeded ten thousand souls. She has
now a population of two hundred thousand, and a re-
sistless tide of emigration rolling in through the heart
of Mexico. over the Isthmus of Panama, around Cape
Horn, and over the steeps of the Rocky Mountains.
The name of the hostess in Shakspeare's play of Henry IV.
t Exit, death or departure.
SPrototype the model after which anything is formed. It aere
means Sir John Falstaff, a remarkable personage in Shaksp k play
of Henry IV.
STributdare, river which run into other rivers.



S2. Then, the great staple* of the country was confined
to wild cattle; now, it is found in'exhaustless mines of
j:lquiclsftver and*oold. Then, the shipping which fre-
quented her waters was confined to a few.drogers,t that
waddled along her coast in quest of hides and tallow;
now, the richest argosiesT of the commercial world are
bound to her ports.
r 3. Three years ago, the dwellings of her citizens
S were reared under the hands of Indians, from sun-
baked adobes of mud and straw; now, a thousand
hammers are ringing on rafter I and roof, over walls of
iron and brick.

4. Then, the plpw which furrowed her fields was
the crotch of a tree, which a stone or a root might
shiver; flow, the shares of the New England farmer
glitter in her soil. Then, the wheels of her carts were
cut from the butts of trees, with a hole in the center foi
the rude axle; now, the iron-bound wheel of the fin-
ished mechanic rolls over her hilts and valleys.
5. Then, only the canoe of the Indian disturbed the
sleeping surface of her waters; now, a fleet of steamers
traverse her ample rivers and bays. Then, not a school-
house, public teacher, magazine, or newspaper, could
be found in the whole territory: now, they are met with
in most of the larger towns.
6. Then, the tastes and passions of an idle throng
ran on the guitar and the fandango ; now, the calcula
'4 le, chief production. t Drogers, clumsy vessels.
Argosies, large and costly ships. Adobes, unburnt bricks.
f Rafter, part of the frame of the roof of a house.
I Famdano, a quick and lively air, to which the Spaniards are very



tions of the busy multitudes turn to thelnthtured field.
and productive mine. Then, California was a depend-
ency of Mexico, and subject to revolutions "..( the,
success of every daring military chieftain; now, she is
an independent state, with an enlightened constitution,*
which guarantees equal rights and privileges to all.
7. Then, she was in arms against our flag; now, she
unrolls it on the breeze, with the star of her own being
and pride glowing in the constellation$ which blazes on
its folds. Three years ago, and San Francisco con-
tained only three hundred souls; now, she has a popu-
lation of twenty-seven thousand.
8. Then, a building-lot within her limits cost fifteen
dollars; now, the same lot cannot be purchased at a less
sum than fifteen thousand. Then, her commerce was
confined to a few Indian blankets, and Mexican reboses
and beads; now, from two to three hundred mer-
chantmen are unloading their costly cargoes on her
9. Then, the famished whaler could hardly find a
temporary relief in her markets; now, she has frenr
zied the world with her wealth. Then, Benicia was a
pasture, covered with low herbs; now, she is a com-
mercial mart, threatening to rival her sister nearer the
10. Then, Stockton and Sacramento City were cov-
ered with wild oats, where the elk jI and deer gamboled
at will; now, they are laced with streets, and walled
with warehouses, through which the great tide of com-
merce rolls off into ? hundred mountain glens.
11. Then, the banks of the Sacramento and San
Joaquin were cheered only by the curling smoke of the
Indian's hut; now, they throw on the eye at every bend
the cheerful aspect of some new hamlet or town.
12. Then, the silence of the Sierra Nevada was
broken only by the voice of its streams; now, every
fond of dancing, in which they strike together small pieces of wood,
-- called castanets, which they hold in their hands.
Constitution, a collection of rules by which a people is governed.
t Guarantees, insures.
t Constellation, a collection of stars.
I Quay, pronounced ke, and means a wharf.
1I Elk, a large kind of deer.
Glens, valleys through which streams of water flow.


cavern and cliff is echoing under the blows of the stur-
dy miner. The wild horse, startled in his glen, leaves
on the hill the clatter of his hoofs; while the huge bear,
roused from his patrimonial* jungle, grimly retires to
some new mountain fastness.t
13. But I must drop this contrast of the past with
the present, and glance at a few facts which affect the
future. The gold deposits which have hitherto been
discovered are confined mainly to the banks and beds
of perpetual streams, or the bottoms of ravines: through
which roll the waters of the transients freshet.
14. These deposits are the natural results of the
laws of gravitation; the treasures which they contain
must have been washed from the slopes of the sur-
rounding hills. The elevations, like spendthrifts, seem
to have parted entirely with their golden inheritance,
except what may linger still in the quartz.
15. And these gold-containing quartz 1| will be found
to have their confined localities. They will crown the
insular peaks of a mountain ridge, or fret the verge of
.some extinguished volcano. .They have never been
found in a continuous range, except in the dreams of
16. You might as well look for a wall of diamonds,
or a solid bank of pearls. Nature has played off many
a prodigal caprice in California, but a mountain of gold
is not one of them.
17. The alluvial** gold will, at no distant day, be
measurably exhausted, and the miners be driven into
the mountains. Here the work can be successfully
prosecuted only by companies with heavy capitals. tt
All the uncertainties which are connected with mining
operations will gather around these enterprises.
18. Wealth will reward the labors of the few, whose
success was mainly the result of good fortune; while
Patrimonial, that which descends from father to son.
t Fastness, a safe and secure place.
t Ravines, long, deep hollows, worn by streams of water.
Transient, passing away soon.
QI Quartz, a very hard, stony substance, sometimes white, but occa-
sionally of other colors.
I Verge, the edge.
** Alluvial, that which is washed down by the water.
tt Capitals, sums of money.



disappointment will attend the efforts of the many,
equally skillful and persevering. These wide inequal-
ities in the proceeds of the miner's labor have exhib-
ited themselves wherever a gold deposit has been
hunted or found in California. The past is the reliable
prophecy of the future.
19. Not one in ten of the thousands who have gone5
or may go, to California to hunt for gold, will return
with a fortune. Still, the great tide of emigration will
set there, till her valleys and mountain glens teem with
a hardy, enterprising population.
20. As the gold deposits diminish, or become more
difficult of access, the quicksilver mines will call forth
their unflagging energies. This metal slumbers in her
mountain spurs,* in massive richness.
21. The process is simple which converts it into that
form through which the mechanic arts subserve the
thousand purposes of science and social refinement,
while the medical profession, through its strange abuse,
keep up a carnival in the court of Death.
22. But for this they who mine the ore are not re-
sponsible; they will find their reward in the wealth
which will follow their labors. It will be in their
power to silence the hammers in those mines which
have hitherto monopolized the markets of the world.
23. But the enterprise and wealth of California are
not confined to her mines. Her ample forests of oak,
red-wood, and pine, only wait the requisite machinery
to convert them into elegant residences and strong-
ribbed ships. Her exhaustless quarries of granite and
marble will yet pillar the domes of metropolitan$ splen-
dor and pride.
24. The hammer and drill will be relinquished by
multitudes for the plow and sickle. Her arablell land,
stretching through her spacious valleys, and along the

The Spur of a range of mountains is a mountain projecting out
sideways from the range.
t The Carnival is a great feast observed in Catholic countries imame-
diately before Lent, or the time of fasting.
Metropolitan, belonging to the chief city.
Sckle, an instrument for cutting ripe grain.
U Arable, susceptible of cultivation.


broad banks of her rivers, will wave with the golden
25. The rain-cloud may not visit her in the sum-
mer months, but the mountain stream will be induced
to throw its showers over her thirsting plains. Such
Krwas California a few years since, such is she now,
-a'nd such will she become, even before they who
now rush to her shores find their footsteps within the
.shadows of the pale realm.

Mr. James Watt.*
1. MR. JAMES WATT, the great improver of the steam-
engine, was born at Greenock, in Scotland, in 1736. He
had from his birth an extremely delicate constitution;
and as he grew up too sickly to have those educational
restraints imposed upon him to which youth are neces-
sarily subjected, he was for the most part left at liberty
to choose his own occupations and amusements.
2. In the valuable work of Dr. Lardner, the follow-
ing anecdotes are told, showing the use made by young
Watt of the freedom allowed him:-" A friend of his
father found the boy one day stretched upon the hearth
tracing with chalk various lines and angles. 'Why
do you permit this child,' said he, 'to waste his time
so7 why not send him to school?' Mr. Watt replied,
'You judge him hastily; before you condemn us, as-
certain how he is employed.'
3. "On examining the boy, then six years of age, it
was found that he was engaged in the solution of a
problem of Euclid! t Having observed the tendency
of his/son's mind, Mr. Watt placed at his disposal a
collection of tools. These he soon learned to use with
This piece is mostly extracted from "A History of Wonderful In-
ventions," published by the Messrs. Harper, in 1849.
t Euclid is the name of a famous mathematician of Alexandria, who
lived 404 years before the birth of Christ. His works on the science of
geometry were so distinguished that the name of the man became
almost identified with the science itself. Geometry is the science which
relates to lines, surfaces, solids, velocity, weight, &c., with their vari-
ous relations.


the greatest skill. He took to pieces and put to their,
again and again, all the children's toys which he could
procure; and he was constantly employed ix making
new ones.
4. Subsequently he used his tools in constrdting a
little electrical machine, the sparks proceeding -
which became a great subject of amusement to al.r
playfellows of the poor invalid. Though endowed
with great retentive* powers, Watt would probably
never have figured among the prodigies of a commbi
school: he would have been slow to commit his les-
sons to memory, from the repugnance j which he would
feel to repeat like a parrot anything which he did not
perfectly understand.
5. The natural tendency of his mind to meditate
on whatever came before it, would give him, to super-
ficial observers, the appearance of dullness. Happily,
however, he had a parent who was sufficiently clear-
sighted, and who entertained high hopes of the grow-
ing faculties of his son. More distant and less saga-
cious II relations were not so sanguine.
6. "One day, Mrs. Muirhead, the aunt of the boy,
reproaching him for what she conceived to be list-
less** idleness, desired him to take a book and occupy
himself usefully. 'More than an hour has now passed
away,' said she, 'and you have not uttered a single
word. Do you know what you have been doing all
this time ?
7. "' You have taken off, and put on, repeatedly, the
lid of the tea-kettle; you have been holding the saucers
and the spoons over the steam, and you have been
endeavoring to catch the drops of water formed on
them by the vapor. Is it not a shame for you to waste
your time so '
8. Mrs. Muirhead was little aware that this was
the first experiment in the splendid career of discovery
Retentive, that which retains; great retentive powers means great
t Prodigies, wonderful persons or things.
$ Repugnance, dislike. Tendency, inclination.
jI Sagacious, wise. Sanguine, warm, like blood.
** Listless, without care.


which was subsequently to immortalize her little
nephew.* She did not see, as we now can, in the little
boy playing with the tea-kettle, the great engineer pre-

luding$ to those discoveries which were destined to
confer on mankind benefits so inestimable."
9. At the age of nineteen, Watt was apprenticed for
three years to Mr. Morgan, a mathematical instrument
maker, in Finch Lane, Cornhill. He remained with
him, however, not more than a twelvemonth, when he
returned to Glasgow, and shortly afterwards obtained
the appointment of mathematical instrument maker to
the university.
10. At this time, he numbered among his friends and
patrons Adam Smith, the celebrated political economist,
and other men celebrated for their scientific attain-
ments, and his shop became a common rendezvous
for both professors and students.
Nephew, pronounced nev'u.
t Engineer is commonly used to signify one who manages an engine;
but its proper meaning is, a scientific or learned man, who understands
the mathematical principles on which engines are constructed. Civil
engineers and military engineers are very learned men, who are skillful
in constructing railroads, canals, fortifications, .c., respectively,
t Preluding, making preparations.
I Ron'davoo, a place of meeting.


11. Among the latter was one named Robinson, who
afterwards distinguished himself by the production of
various scientific works, which still hold a high place
in this department of literature, and between him and
Watt a lasting personal friendship was at this period
formed. Robinson thus describes one of the mon
interesting traits of his friend's character:
12. 1 had always, from my earliest youth, a great
relish for the natural sciences, and particularly for
mathematical and mechanical philosophy, when I was
introduced by Drs.* Simson, Dick, and Moor, gentle-
men eminent for their mathematical abilities, to Mr.
Watt. P.
13. I saw'a workman, and expected,io more; but
was surprised to find a philosopher as young as myself,
and always ready to instruct me. I had the vanity to
think myself a pretty good proficient in my favorite
study, and was father mortified at finding Mr. Watt so
much my superior. * Whenever any puzzle
came in the way of any of the young students, we went
to Mr. Watt.
14. He needed only to be prompted, for everything
became to him the beginning of a new and serious study,
and we knew that he would not quit it till he had either
discovered its insignificancy, or had made something
of it.
15. "When to his superiority of knowledge is added
the naive t simplicity and candor of Mr. Watt's charac-
S ter, it is no wonder that the attachment of his acquaint-
ances was strong. I have seen something of the world,
and am obliged to say I never saw such another instance
of general and cordial attachment to a person whom all
acknowledged to be their superior."'
16. It was about the year 1762, or 1763, that Watt's
attention appears to have been first turned to the
principle of the steam-engine, when he tried several
experiments. He applied himself with indefatigable
industry and with great ingenuity to the study of the
t*Profcient, one who has knowledge, or can do a thing well.
$ Nah-iff artless.


mechanical principles, by which he could remedy the
great difficulties that were to be overcome, before steam
could be advantageously used as a mechanical power.
17. His success was triumphant, and he lived to see
the steam-engine brought to such a degree of perfection,
that, in the words of a very distinguished writer, "it
ntr engrave a seal, and crush masses of obdurate metal
before it; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine
as gossamer,* and lift up a ship-of-war like a bau-
ble in the air. It can embroider muslin, and forge
anchors; cut steel into ribbons, and impel loaded ves-
sels against the fury of the winds and waves."
18. Mr. Watt died in the year 1817, and a statue
was erected to his memory, in Handsworth church,
wrought by the celebrated sculptor Chantrey.

Delight in God only. F. QUARLES.
1. I LOVE (and have some cause to love) the earth:
She is my Maker's creature; therefore good;
She is my mother, for she gave me birth;
She is my tender nurse, she gives me food;
But what's a creature, Lord, compared with thee?
Or what's my mother, or my nurse, to me ?
2. I love the air: her dainty sweets refresh
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;
Her shrill-mouthed quiret sustain me with their flesh,
And withtheir polyphonian $ notes delight me;
But what's the air, or all the sweets that she
Can bless my soul withal, compared to thee ?
3. I love the sea: she is my fellow-creature,
My careful purveyor; she provides me store;
A fine, filmy substance, like cobwebs. It is seen in countless num-
bers on field and stubble lands, particularly in the autumn, and is by
some supposed to be formed by a species of spider. It is doubted,
however, by some naturalists, whether the spider has anything to do
with it.
t Shrill-mouthed quire, or choir, that is, the birds.
T Polyphonian, of many sounds.
S Purveyor, one who provides tor another.


She walls me round, she makes qidiet greater;
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore;
But, Lord of oceans, when compared with thee,
What is the ocean or her wealth to me?
4. To heaven's high city I direct my journey,
Whose spangled suburbs* entertain mine eye;-
Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney, .
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky;
But what is heaven, great God, compared to thee?
Without thy presence, heaven's no heaven tome.
5. Without thy presence, earth gives no refection; t
Without thy presence, sea affords no treasure;
Without thy presence, air's a rank infection;$.
Without thy presence, heaven itself no pleasure;
If not possessed, if not enjoyed, in thee,
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven, to me 7
6. The highest honors that the world can boast
Are subjects far too low for my desire;
The brightest beams of glory are, at most,
But dying sparkles of thy living fire;
The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly glow-worms,4 if compared to thee.
7. Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares;
Wisdom but folly; joy, disquiet, sadness;
Friendship is treason, and delights are snares;
Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing madness;
Without thee, Lord, things be not what they be,
Nor have they being, when compared with thee.
8. In having all things, and not thee, what have I?
Not having thee, what have my labors got?
Let me enjoy but thee, what further crave 1 I?
And having thee alone, what have I not ?
I wish nor sea nor land, nor would I be
Possessed of heaven, heaven unpossessed of thee.
Suburbs, the places near or around a city are called the suburbs
t Refection, refreshment.
SInfection, that which poisons or corrupts.
5 Glow-worms, worms that shine in the dark.
CI Crave, want, or ask for.



How Gunpowder has lessened the Evils of War.
1. BEFORE the invention of gunpowder, a battle-field
presented a very different appearance from what it does
now. There was then no heavy vailt of smoke hanging
over it, and obscuring the banners on which the arms
of the knights were emblazoned: the dancing plume,
the glittering helmet, and the dazzling array of men in
armor, were on each side visible.
2. Whether the warrior struck with his uplifted
battle-axe, or made a plunge with his sharp-headed
and long-shafted spear, or, raising his gauntleted hand,
thrust his long, straight, double-edged sword between
the bars of his opponent's vizor,$ he saw the point at
which he aimed, and stood face to face with the enemy
to whom he was opposed.
3. Each was alike prepared to attack or defend, and
no random l1 bullet came whizzing through the clouded
canopy I of smoke, leveling alike the strong and the
weak, the brave and the base, and rendering neither
determined courage nor skillful defence of any avail.**
4. The thundering cannon and the death-dealing
bullet laid low the plumed and knightly head of
chivalry;ttand the iron arm of a Coaur de Lion,$t that
This piece is from A History of Wonderful Inventions," published
by the Messrs. Harper, of New York, 1849.
t Vail, covering.
t Emblazoned. The knights wore shields, on which pictures of birds,
animals &c, were painted. The same were also painted on their flags,
or banners. In process of time, kings and princes bestowed honors on
the knights, which they represented on their shields, by some appropri-
ate emblem or sign. This painting was called emblazoning. It was
from this practice arose the custom, among noble families, of using
coats of arms," to designate their rank. The crest of the coat of
arms generally represented what the knight wore on his helmet. This
is fully explained in the science of Heraldry.
Vizor, a covering for the face and head.
II Random, thrown by chance, without aiming at any particular mark.
Canopy, covering. ** Avail, use.
tt A military.dignity. Also the person on whom that dignity was
t Richard I., King of England, on account of his great bravery, was
called Coaurd Lion (Kyur de leon), or the lion-hearted. He died in


was ever foremost to hew its way into the enemy's
ranks, with the ponderous* battle-axe chained to its
wrist, might have been shattered by the hand of the
puniestt peasant, that trembled as it pulled the trigger,
had the lion-hearted king lived when the bullet came,
without a human hand to conduct it, from the muzzle
of the firelock.
5. Those single combats, which our early bards loved
to celebrate in their rude martial ballads, were then at
an end; the standard could no longer be seen rocking
and reeling above the heads of the combatants, and
telling, as it rose and fell, the very spot where the heart
of battle beat; for gunpowder came in, and sent its
blackening smoke over all this splendor, and under its
clouded covering Death walked forth unperceived,
leveling all alike, and making no distinction between
cowardice and valor.
6. War was at once shorn of all its false charms; and
many there were who regretted the stern old days when
men fought shield to shield and hand to hand, and who
exclaimed, with Shakspeare, -
7. -- that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous saltpeter should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly."
8. The jousts and tournaments,$ in which lances
were shivered, and over which queens and titled ladies
presided, were at an end. The fabled giants dwindled
to dwarfs, for even fancy could not create a monster so
tall that the bullet could not reach him. All these old
fictions faded away when gunpowder was introduced.
9. A modern battle-field is the most terrible spectacle
that can be contemplated. Tens and hundreds of thou-
sands of men, intent on destruction, are pitted together,
rank opposed to rank, while horses and riders rush
headlong upon each other, with glaring eyes and com-
pressed lips.
10. The air is filled with dark, sulphurous smoke,
Ponderous, heavy. t Puniest, smallest.
t Jousts and tournaments were mock battles or fights.


through which the forked flames of the cannon are
every moment flashing, as they send forth their dread-
ful messengers of death; the rushing of mighty squad-
rons, the loud clangor of arms, heard even amid the
roar of the artillery, as, at brief intervals, its loud
reports crash like some terrible thunder-clap, the
rapid volleys of the musketry, filling up with their
incessant rattle that discordant din, which is only
broken by the imprecations of enraged men, the screams
of anguish, and the groans of the dying; these, with
their fearful accessories, constitute a scene which is
alike revolting to the principles of humanity, as it is
opposed to the doctrines of our religion.

The same subject, concluded.
1. YET, dreadful as is a scene like this, there is little
doubt but that the principal agent through which it
is enacted gunpowder has been instrumental in
reducing the horrors of warfare, and saving human
life; that there is less of that savage butchery and per-
sonal revenge which stained the battle-fields of ancient
2. Allowing for the conflicting statements on both
sides, it would seem that at the battle of Waterloo*
somewhere about two hundred thousand men were
opposed to each other, and during a conflict of almost
unexampled severity, which lasted from eleven o'clock
in the morning till night had set in, the killed and
wounded were estimated at twenty thousand; while in
a battle fought by Henry V. with the French on the
plains of Agincourt, the loss of life was proportionably
much greater; and in the great battle fought at Low-
ton, in Yorkshire, between the Yorkists and Lancaste-
A village in Belgium, where the greatest battle of modern times
was fought, in which the Duke of Wellington, commanding the allied
armies of Russia, Prussia, Austria, and England, gained the victory
over Napoleon Bonaparte, in 1815. This battle was fought on Sunday.



nans, which secured Edward IV. on the throne of
England, upwards of forty thousand of the combatants
perished, although the numbers of the contending armies
did not exceed the strength of the French troops alone,
engaged at Waterloo.
3. Nor has the use of gunpowder been less instru-
mental in abating the angry passions and the demoni'a-
cal hatred engendered in that most dreadful of all human
scourges, war, than it has been useful in reducing the
number of its victims. In the warfare of the ancients,
and of those who lived*in what are called the middle
ages (with the exception of the archers, and they, in
general, formed but a small portion of any army), the
men opposed to each other, as we have already described,
fought hand to hand.
4. Thus, when any one received a wound, he most
likely saw by whom it was inflicted, and, viewing his
opponent with an intense degree of malevolence, returned
the injury, when in his power, with a proportionate ill
will. So would what we call our English spirit of
"fair play" have a check in this feeling of personal
5. But now the greater part of every battle is fought
by men who have no opportunity of perceiving by
whom they are wounded or hurt; and being thus less
prompted by personal feeling, the termination of an
engagement shows a far greater degree of humanity
than was formerly known; and the instances are even
numerous where those who, but an hour or a few
minutes before, were at deadly strife, have evinced the
noblest generosity in allaying the sufferings of each
6. Cruel as war is, it is surely better to end it quickly
than to prolong it. To do in a few hours what might
be continued for days, bad as it is, is to shorten human
suffering; and we may hope, at last, that the more
powerful the agent of destruction, the more effective it
will be found for the shortening, and, perhaps, in time,
the prevention of war altogether.
7. An instance of this was given by the naval force,
under the command of Sir R. Stopford, who, in 1841,


was sent to rescue Syria from the power of Mohammed
Ali, the Pacha of Egypt. After taking the commercial
town of Beyrout, this force sailed to bombard the town
pf St. Jean D'Acre, then considered one of the strongest
fortresses in the world.
8. It had been fortified with the utmost care, and
was considered by those who defended it as almost
impregnable.* But Sir Robert dispatched a few of his
line-of-battle ships to silence the cannon on the walls,
while, with the steam-frigates.under his command, he
kept further from shore, and threw, from the mortarst
on board of his vessels, large shells into the place.
9. The fire was close and effective; and the guns of
one of the seventy-fours were so placed that the whole
of her broadside was poured into one small space,
described by an eye-witness as not .nore than ten feet
square; and all the balls striking nearly at the same
instant, the force of the blow-was so irresistible that
the solid masonry cracked, yielded, and, with' a thun-
dering crash, finally fell down into fragments, leaving
a breach sufficiently wide for the assailants to enter
the town.
10. In the mean time the admiral contrived to ply
the defenders with volleys of shells from the steam-
frigates; ind one of these breaking through the roof of
an encased building, there burst. This chanced to be
the magazine, where all the ammunition of the place
was deposited.
11. The contents immediately exploded, and one of
the most sublime and awful sights that even the terrible
machinery of war can produce was witnessed, as the
vast mass of the building, with the bodies of seventeen
hundred men, was driven, like the outpouring of a vol-
cano, high and reddening into the air.
12. The whole town was for a while enveloped in
terrific darkness; and when the cause and the effect of
the accident were perceived, it was considered useless
to continue the contest; and thus,,though at a great
sacrifice, in three hours was brought to a conclusion a
Impregnable, unconquerable.
t Mortars are short guns for throwing shells, or hollow shot. ,:


war which might have continued for months or years,
and which would have covered whole provinces and
countries with desolation.

The Violet. -JAMES F. CLARKE.

1. WHEN April's warmth unlocks the clod
Softened by gentle showers,
The violet pierces through the sod,
And blossoms, first of flowers;
So may I give my heart to God
In childhood's early hours.
2. Some plants, in gardens only found,
Are raised with pains and care
God scatters violets all around,
They blossom everywhere;
Thus may my love to all abound,
And all my fragrance share.
3. Some scentless flowers stand straight and higt,
With pride and haughtiness:
But violets perfume land and sky,
Although they promise less.
Let me, with all humility,
Do more than I profess.
4. Sweet flower! be thou a type to me
Of blameless joy and mirth,
Of widely-scattered sympathy,
Embracing all God's earth, -
Of early-blooming piety,
And unpretending worth!

Eternal Providence. LANGHORNE.
1. LIGHT of the world! Immortal Mind !
S Father of all the human kind !
8* *
t- '--


Whose boundless eye, that knows no rest,
Intent on Nature's ample breast,
Explores the space of earth and skies,
Arid sees eternal incense rise!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
2. Though thou this transient being gave,
That shortly sinks into the grave,
Yet 't was thy goodness still to give
A being that can think and live,
In all thy works thy wisdom see,
And stretch its towering mind to thee.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
3. And still this poor contracted span,
This life, that bears the name of man,
From thee derives its vital ray,
Eternal source of life and day!
Thy bounty still the sunshine pours,
That gilds its morn and evening hours.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
4. Through Error's maze, through Folly's night,
The lamp of Reason lends me light;
Where stern Affliction waves her rod,
My heart confides in thee, my God!
When Nature shrinks, oppressed with woes,
Even then she finds in thee repose.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
5. Affliction flies, and Hope returns;
Her lamp with brighter splendor burns;
Gay Love, with all his smiling train,
And Peace and Joy, are here again;
These, these, I know, 't was thine to give;
* I trusted; and, behold, I live!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
6. 0, may I still thy favor prove!
Still grant me gratitude and love.



Let truth and virtue guard my heart;
Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy depart:
But yet, whatever my life may be,
My heart shall still repose on thee!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

A Name in the Sand. H. F. GOULD.
1. ALONE I walked the ocean strand;
A pearly shell was in my hand:
I stooped and wrote upon the sand
My name the year the day.
As onward from the spot I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast:
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.
2. And so, methought, 't will shortly be
With every mark on earth from me;
A wave of dark oblivion's sea
Will sweep across the place,
Whe e I have trod the sandy shore
Of tieg and been to be no more,
Of .e, -my day, -the name I bore,
To leave nor track nor trace.
3. And yet, with Him who counts the sands,
And-holds the waters in his hands,
I know a lasting record stands,
Inscribed against my name,
Of all this mortal part has wrought,
Of all this thinking soul has thought,
And from these fleeting moments caught
For glory, or for shame.



1. How sacred and how innocent
A country life appears, -
How free from tumult, discontent,
From flattery or fears!
2. This was the first and happiest life,
When man enjoyed himself,
Till pride exchanged peace for strife,
And happiness for pelf.
3. 'T was here the poets were inspired,
Here taught the multitude;
The brave they here with honor fired,
And civilized the rude.
4. That golden age did entertain
No passion but of love:
The thoughts of ruling and of gain
Did ne'er their fancies move.
5. Them that do covet only rest,
A cottage will suffice:
It is not brave to be possessed
Of earth, but to despise.
6. Opinion is the rate of things,
From hence our peace doth flow;
I have a better fate than kings,
Because I think it so.
7. When all the stormy world doth roar,
How unconcerned am I!
I cannot fear to tumble lower,
Who never could be high.
8. Secure in these unenvied walls,
I think not on the state,
And pity no man's ease that falls
From his ambition's height.
9. Silence and innocence are safe;
A heart that's nobly true
At all these little arts can laugh,
That do the world subdue!
*Born, 1631; died, 1664.



Calico Printing The Father of Sir Robert Peel.*
1. AMONG others who began to be affected by the
growing spirit of enterprise, which, about the middle
of the last century, pervaded the manufacturing inter-
ests throughout the north of England, was a farmer oF"
little means, who lived at the village of Blackburn, in
2 He was a man of observant and inquiring mind,
shrewd, diligent, and energetic. Labor was of little
consequence, provided an object was attained by it.
He had remarked the tediousness of the process by
which the raw cotton-wool was brought into a state fit
for spinning, by the common hand-card; and he it was,
as there is almost every proof, that invented the cylin-
der for doing the work so much better and expedi-
3. Success attended him here sufficiently to induce
him altogether to give up farming; and seeing every-
body btsy about him, he adapted himself to another
part of the business, and the farmer turned calico
printer. He set to work, and with his own hands he
cut away on blocks of wood, with such tools as he
could command, till he had formed the figure of a pars-
4. At the back of each of these blocks he put a
handle, and put a little pin of strong wire at each of the
four corners in front. Each of these blocks was ten
inches long, and five broad. He then got a tub, into
which he put some colored mixture, with a little alum
in it.
5. He then covered the tub with a woolen cloth,
which sunk till it touched the coloring matter, and
became saturated with it. The calico was stretched
tightly across the table top, and the quondam f farmer of
Blackburn then touched the woolen cloth with the face
This piece is extracted from "A History of Wonderful Inven-
tions," published by the Messrs. Harper, of New York, 1849.
t Quondam, former.


of his parsley-leaf block, and soon as the. figure was
fairly covered with the color, he placed it squarely on
the cloth and struck it sharply with a mallet, so that
the figure of the engraving was left upon the white
6. The little points at the corners enabled him to
repeat the process with regularity, and so he continued
till the whole.was complete. Soon as it was dry, his
wife and daughters set to work and ironed it with the
common smoothing-irons, and this they continued to do
for some time.
7. But the ingenious farmer was as little satisfied
with the loss of time in this instance as he had pre-
viously been with the hand-card; and having seen the
good effect of a cylinder in that case, he determined to
try it in this. He had an oblong frame made, with a
smooth wooden bottom and upright posts, and a rail on
each side.
8. Running from side to side, there was a roller, with
a handle to turn it, and round the roller there ras a
rope, wound round spirally. Each end of the ropie was
fastened to an oblong deep box, as wide and as long
as the frame. It was filled with bricks, and of course
was very heavy.
9. The farmer had now a machine more forcible than
the strength and warm irons of his wife and daughters.
He therefore wound his pieces of calico round smooth
wooden rollers which were placed under the box, and
that being drawn backwards and forwards by means
of a rope round the upper roller, the winch soon gave
the requisite smoothness to the new work.
10. This, in truth, was the mangle,* now used for
domestic purposes, by which mafry a poor woman gains
a livelihood. It was afterwards superseded by superior
machinery, worked on more complex, but not more scien-
tific principles. But it answered the purpose admirably.
The farmer worked on; his goods were readily bought,
and he was much sought after; for the cautious fellow
kept his knowledge to himself.

*irWgle, a rolling-press for smoothing cloth.



11. And so he went on, step b step, till he became
the head of one of the largest houses in the country.
His eldest son joined him in business, and the tide of
affluence flowed fast and constantly upon the firm.
With the wealth thus acquired, at a time of great
national emergency, the sob raised at his own expense
a regiment of horse for the general defense, and the
government made hitvl a ~tonet,. .
12. His son, whla ..ame, likelhi- own and his.ll
father's, was Robert,--he brought up well, and sent. to l
college, where the young man, by good abilities and
diligence, obtained great distinction. He afterwards
obtained a seat in Parliament, lived to sway senates by
his word, and ultimately became the prime minister of
an empire whose power never was excelled, and the
extent of which never was equaled.
13. The name of the humble farmer of Blackburn,
the self-taught calico-printer, the inventor of the mangle,
the founder of a family which, in two generations, has
risen to an equality with the oldest nobility in the land,
that farmer's name was Peel.
14. Mr. Peel was, however, not content with hard
labor, even facilitated* as it was by his own inventions;
and he accordingly removed to a place called Brookside,
about two miles from Blackburn, for the sake of water,
and there, by the assistance of his sons, extended his
business very considerably.
15. In 1773, his eldest son, Robert, who had always
been his chief support, left the concern, and entered
into partnership with a Mr. Yates, and his uncle,
whose name was Ha'-orth, and, with them, carried on
an extensive business at the town of Bury. Two other
sons entered into partnership, and established their
business at a place called Church, and were, like their
elder brother and father, eminently successful.

Facilitated, made easy.

." .s

~ ~ -
:^ .


VW VF <( -


P -- -~'--C


The same subject, concluded.

1. THE principle of block printing, however, was
found too slow, especially when more than one color
was to be used; and cylinders were again adopted. The
pattern to be printed was engraved on the face of a
Cylinder (and to the credit of this adoption Mr. Peel
appears to be peculiarly entitled), which revolves in
connection with another of equal size.
2. The lower cylinder, on which the pattern was
wrought, turns with half its circumference in a box
which contains coloring matter, which in the course of
its progress is shaved off by a blade of soft steel, except
where the pattern is engraved. The cloth is passed
between the two cylinders, and receives the.impression
of the pattern. It is afterwards passed over another
cylinder, filled with hot steam, and almost instantly
3. Where three or four colors are to be used, there
must be as many cylinders; and thus a piece of calico,
of twenty-eight yards in length, can be printed, in vari-
ous colors, in about two minutes, -a work which, by
hand labor, could not be performed ih less than a week.
4. But another improvement was made. These
cylinders had been usually made of copper, and they
were not only expensive to engrave, but soon wore out;
and it was therefore an immense advantage to the calico
printers when a plan was adopted for reducing that
expense. This system was, to engrave a very small
steel cylinder, of two or three inches in length, with the
pattern desired, when the metal was in what is called
the decarbonized or softened state, after which it was
attempered till it became very hard.
5. When it was hardened to the utmost, it was
worked by powerful machinery against a large cylin-
der, which, being duly softened, received the design.
That, also, was in its turn hardened, and then worked
against the copper roller, which received the impression


as originally engraved, and thus was fitted for the
printing process.
6. At this point it was that chemistry -that strange
and wonderful science, which, more, perhaps, than any
other, has unlocked the secrets of nature came in to
the assistance of art. A substance was discovered,
called chlorine, which has the peculiar property of dis-
charging all vegetable colors; and .thus, with a magic
exceeding all the tales of romance, bleached the cloth
to a fairer and purer white, in a few hours, than could,
by the old process of exposure to the air on the grass,
have been obtained in many months.
7. And this was of inestimable value; for, in order to
print the richest patterns, the most perfect white that
could be obtained was necessary. But a complaint
was made that, however beautiful, the prints would not
wash, and, consequently, when once soiled, a dress
became useless; and the earth was ransacked to obtain
what are called mordants, for the several colors.
8. The term, it is almost needless to say, is derived
from the French word mordre, to bite, as it seems to
make the color bite into the cloth, and become fixed;
and one of the plans adopted was to print the cloth
with the mordant only, then to dip it in the dyeing vat,
and afterwards wash it out, when the mordant was
found to have retained the pattern in beautiful integrity.
9. Another plan is to print the pattern with lemon-
juice; the piece is then steeped in the mordant, dried
quickly, and dyed in the vat. When washed, the acid
is found to have resisted the mordant, and the pattern
stands out in pure white, all the rest of the cloth, of
course, retaining the color in which it was dyed.
10. This is called discharge work, and gave to the
Peels an opportunity of imitating very beautifully the
Indian patterns, which were at that time very much
admired, and obtained for their h9use a character
which never was lost, for it enabled them to produce
goods excellent in every respect, both for beauty and
fastness of color.
11. There was, however, another discovery made, by
a person named Grouse, a commercial traveler of Lon-



don, who, although utterly destitute of anything like
scientific knowledge, is stated to have been fond of fire-
side experiments. He sold his invention to the late Sir
Robert Peel, the father of the present statesman, for five
pounds; and there is little doubt that the person who
bought it realized more than fifty thousand times that
sum by it.
12. The process is called resist work, and it consists
in printing the cloth with a kind of paste, and then
dying it with indigo; and after being properly dried, it
is found .that the paste has resisted the coloring matter,
and the pattern is left of a pure and beautiful white.
Without the paste, the indigo would not wash out; and
this is the means through which these beautiful blue
dresses, with the white spots, which no one can see
without admiring, are made.
13. All this, however, was not sufficient. It was not
enough to have utility, durability, and neatness; for
beauty of design was also requisite to satisfy the ripen-
ing faculties and the improving character which a long
period of peace has brought out; and all the efforts of
the most ingenious artists have been put into requisition
to attain that object.
14. That it has at length been attained, is evident to
all; but it is a singular coincidence, that the person by
whom it has been chiefly accomplished is also a farm-
er's son, who, by his honorable conduct, and by the
persevering exercise of his excellent abilities, attained
to wealth and position, and who was in his turn enabled,
in seven short years, to break down opinions and un-
settle notions centuries old, and is at the present moment
receiving the homage of every country in Europe for
his moral courage and preeminent ability. The indi-
vidual of whom we are speaking is Richard Cobden.

The Notes of the Birds. ISAAC McLELCAN, JR.
1. WELL do I love those various harmonies
That ring so gayly in Spring's buding woods,


And in the thickets, and green, quiet haunts,
And lonely copses, of the Summer-time,
And in red Autumn's ancient solitudes.
2. If thou art pained with the world's noisy stir,
Or crazed with its mad tumults, and weighed down
-With any of the ills of human life *
If thou art sick and weak, or mourn'st the loss
Of brethren gone to that far distant land
To which we all do pass, gentle and poor,
The gayest and the gravest, all alike; -
Then turn into the peaceful woods, and hear
The thrilling music of the forest-birds.
3. How rich the varied choir! The unquiet finch
Calls from the distant hollows, and the wren
Uttereth her sweet and mellow plaint at times,
And the thrush mourneth where the kalmia* hangs
Its crimson-spotted cups, or chirps half-hid
Amid the lowly dogwood's snowy flowers;
And the blue jay flits by, from tree to tree,
And, spreading its rich pinions, fills the ear
With its shrill-sounding and unsteady cry.
4. With the sweet airs of Spring the robin comes;
And in her simple song there seems to gush
A strain of sorrow when she visiteth
Her last year's withered nest. But when the gloom
Of the deep twilight falls, she takes her perch
Upon the red-stemmed hazel's slender twig,
That overhangs the brook, and suits-her song
To the slow rivulet's inconstant chime.
5. In the last days of Autumn, when the corn
Lies sweet and yellow in the harvest-field,
And the gay company of reapers bind
The bearded wheat in sheaves, then peals abroad
The blackbird's merry chant. I love to hear,
Bold plunderer! thy mellow burst of song
Float from thy watch-place on the mossy tree,
Close at the corn-field edge.
6. Lone whip-poor-will,
There it much sweetness in thy fitful hymn,
Heard in the drowsy watches of the night.
Kalmia, the name of a class of evergreen shrubs.




Oft-times, when all the village lights are out,
And the wide air is still, I hear thee chant
Thy hollow dirge, like some recluse who takes
His lodging in the wilderness of woods,
And lifts his anthem when the world is still:
And the dim, solemn night, that brings to man
And to the herds deep slumbers, and sweet dews
To the red roses and the herbs, doth find
No eye, save thine, a watcher in her halls.
I hear thee oft at midnight, when the thrush
And the green roving linnet are at rest,
And the blithe, twittering swallows have long ceased
Their noisy note, and folded up their wings.
7. Far up some brook's still course, whose current
The forest's blackened roots, and whose green marge
Is seldom visited by human foot,
The lonely heron sits, and harshly breaks
The Sabbath-silence of the wilderness:
And you may find her by some reedy pool,
Or brooding gloomily on the time-stained rock,
Beside some misty and far-reaching lake.
8. Most awful is thy deep and heavy boom,*
Gray watcher of the waters! Thou art king
Of the blue lake; and all the winged kind
Do fear the echo of thine angry cry.
How bright thy savage eye! Thou lookest down
And seest the shining fishes as they glide;
And, poising thy gray wing, thy glossy beak
Swift as an arrow strikes its roving prey.
Ofttimes I see thee, through the curling mist,
Dart, like a specter of the night, and hear
Thy strange bewildering call, like the wild scream
Of one whose life is perishing in the sea.
9. And now, wouldst thou, oh man! delight the ear
With earth's delicious sounds, or charm the eye
With beautiful creations ? Then pass forth,
And find them midst those many-colored birds
That fill the glowing woods. The richest hues

Boom, a peculiar noise made by the bird.



Lie in their splendid plumage, and their tones
Are sweeter than the music of the lute,
Or the harp's melody, or the notes that gush
So thrillingly from Beauty's ruby lip.


Transformation of Animals. SMELLIE.

1. THE transformation of caterpillars, and of differ-
ent kinds of worms, into winged insects, has long
excited the attention, as well as the admiration, of man-
kind. But the truth is, that every animal, without
exception, undergoes changes in structure, mode of
existence, and external appearances.
2. Mankind, from their embryo* state to their final
dissolution,t assume many different forms. At birth, the
form, the symmetry,t and organs of the animal, are by
no means complete. The head continues, for some time,
to be disproportionally large; the hands and feet are
not properly shaped; the legs are crooked; and the
hair on the head is short and scanty; no teeth as yet
appear; and there is not a vestige of a beard.
3. In a few months, however, the symmetry of all
the parts is evidently improved, and the teeth begin to
shoot. The growth of the whole body, as well as the
strength and beauty of its form, gradually advances to
perfection, till the sixth or seventh year, when another
change takes place. At this period, the first set of teeth
are shed, and are replaced by new ones.
4. From boyhood to youth, the size of the body, and
of its different members, increases. During youth,
several important changes are produced in the system.
The embryo state is the state of the earliest existence of anything,
before it is wholly finished. Plants exist in embryo in the seed when
it first begins to sprout.
t Dissolution, the dissolving of the parts, that is, death.
$ Symmetry, beautiful proportions.
Organs are natural instruments by which any action is performed.
Thus, the ear is the organ of hearing; the nose, the organ of smelling,


The beard now makes its appearance; and the dimen-
sions of the body, in most individuals, are suddenly
augmented. From this period to the age of twenty-five
or thirty, the muscles swell, their interstices* are filled
with fat, the parts bear a proper proportion to each
other, and man may now be considered as a perfect
5. In this state of bodily perfection and vigor he gener-
ally remains till he reaches his fiftieth year. Then a new,
but a gradual change, begins to appear. From the fif-
tieth year to the age of seventy or eighty, the powers
of the body decline in their strength and activity. The
muscles lose their spring and their force. The vigor
of manhood is no longer felt, and the withered decrep-
itudet of old age is succeeded by death, its unavoidable
6. The mind of man undergoes changes, as well as
his body. The taste, the appetites, and the disposi-
tions, are in perpetual fluctuation.t How different is the
taste of a child from that of a man! Fond of gew-
gaws and of trifling amusements, children frolic away
their time, without much thought or reflection. When
advancing towards youth, their dispositions and desires
suffer a gradual mutation.jj
7. The faculties are unfolded, and a sense of propri-
ety begins to be perceived. They despise their former
occupations arid amusements; and different species of
objects solicit and obtain their attention. Their powers
of reflection are now considerably augmented ; and both
sexes acquire a modesty and a shyness with regard to
each other.
8. This awkward, but natural bashfulness,** by the
intercourse of society, soon vanishes. From this pe-
riod, to the age of twenty-five or thirty, men's minds
assume a bold, enterprising, and active tone. They
Interstices, spaces between the parts.
t Decrepitude, state of the body when worn out by age and sickness.
$ Fluctuation, changing like a wave, rising and falling.
Gewgaws, toys, baubles, or shining playthings.
II Mutation, change. Augmented, increased.
**Bashfulness, a sense of shame or unwillingness to be noticed. It is
an entirely different feeling from modesty. alodesty is commendable;
bashfulness should be overcome.


engage in the business of life, look forward to futurity,
and have a desire of marrying and of establishing fa
9. All the social appetites are in vigor; solid a
manly friendships are formed; and man goes on for
some time to enjoy every kind of happiness which his
nature is capable of affording. At fifty or sixty, the
mental powers in general, like those of the body, begin
to decline, till feeble and tremulous old age arrives, and
death closes the mutable scene of human life.

The same subject, continued.
1. WITH regard to quadrupeds, both before and after
birth, they undergo similar, and many of them greater,
changes of form than those of the human species.
Their metal powers, likewise their dispositions and
manners, as well as the objects of their attention, vary
according to the different stages of their existence.
2. Many of them come into the world blind, and
continue for some time before they receive the sense
of seeing. How many changes are exhibited in the _.
dog from the birth till he becomes a perfect animal, -
till all his members are completely formed, and all his
instincts* are unfolded and improved by experience
and education!
3. The deer kind acquire not their magnificent and
beautiful horns before the age of puberty; t and even
these are annually cast off and renewed. Similar
changes take place in quadrupedsl of every denomina-
tion; with examples of which every man's experience
and recollection will readily supply him; and, there-
fore, it is unnecessary to be more particular.
4. Neither are birds, in their progress from birth to
Instinct is that knowledge, or power of acquiring knowledge, which
is given by nature, not acquired by art or by education.
t Puberty is the age when animals unite in pairs.
$ Quadrupeds, animals having four legs.

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs