De La Salle Fifth Reader Part 49

"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.

'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"

The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not tell the rest!"

"I entreat you, for G.o.d's sake, and for the love you bear your father's memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.

What further said or did Corvinus?"

The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and then proceeded:

"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."

He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:

"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust a.s.sailant by the throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood so strong within me. O G.o.d! may they never be again so tremendously powerful."

"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling matron.

He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May G.o.d forgive you, as I freely and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Ca.s.sia.n.u.s came up at that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done; and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call this a happy day?"

_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._

SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.

VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat, sheep or young calf, for writing on.

THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.

SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.

SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.

STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.

CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands, and often loaded with lead or iron.

"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans, which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.

Ca.s.sIa.n.u.s, St. Ca.s.sian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice to the G.o.ds, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.

AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is p.r.o.nounced _[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_, and used only in poetry, it is p.r.o.nounced _[=a]_.

Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words a description of "The Martyr's Boy."

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

_79_

THE ANGEL'S STORY.

Through the blue and frosty heavens Christmas stars were s.h.i.+ning bright; Glistening lamps throughout the City Almost matched their gleaming light; While the winter snow was lying, And the winter winds were sighing, Long ago, one Christmas night.

Rich and poor felt love and blessing From the gracious season fall; Joy and plenty in the cottage, Peace and feasting in the hall; And the voices of the children Ringing clear above it all.

Yet one house was dim and darkened; Gloom, and sickness, and despair, Dwelling in the gilded chambers, Creeping up the marble stair, Even stilled the voice of mourning,-- For a child lay dying there.

Silken curtains fell around him, Velvet carpets hushed the tread, Many costly toys were lying All unheeded by his bed; And his tangled golden ringlets Were on downy pillows spread.

The skill of all that mighty City To save one little life was vain,-- One little thread from being broken, One fatal word from being spoken; Nay, his very mother's pain And the mighty love within her Could not give him health again.

Suddenly an unseen Presence Checked those constant moaning cries, Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering, Raised those blue and wondering eyes, Fixed on some mysterious vision With a startled, sweet surprise.

For a radiant angel hovered, Smiling, o'er the little bed; White his raiment; from his shoulders Snowy dove-like pinions spread, And a starlike light was s.h.i.+ning In a glory round his head.

While, with tender love, the angel, Leaning o'er the little nest, In his arms the sick child folding, Laid him gently on his breast, Sobs and wailings told the mother That her darling was at rest.

So the angel, slowly rising, Spread his wings, and through the air Bore the child; and, while he held him To his heart with loving care, Placed a branch of crimson roses Tenderly beside him there.

While the child, thus clinging, floated Towards the mansions of the Blest, Gazing from his s.h.i.+ning guardian To the flowers upon his breast, Thus the angel spake, still smiling On the little heavenly guest:

"Know, dear little one, that Heaven Does no earthly thing disdain; Man's poor joys find there an echo Just as surely as his pain; Love, on earth so feebly striving, Lives divine in Heaven again.

"Once, in that great town below us, In a poor and narrow street, Dwelt a little sickly orphan; Gentle aid, or pity sweet, Never in life's rugged pathway Guided his poor tottering feet.

"All the striving, anxious fore-thought That should only come with age Weighed upon his baby spirit, Showed him soon life's sternest page; Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow Was his only heritage."