McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader Part 39

As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters his windows, Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the house roofs, Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their inclosure; So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker.

Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then rose Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the doorway.

Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce imprecations Rang through the house of prayer; and high o'er the heads of the others Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the blacksmith, As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows.

Flushed was his face and distorted with pa.s.sion; and wildly he shouted,-- "Down with the tyrants of England! we never have sworn them allegiance!

Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests!"

More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement.

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the alter.

Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people; Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and mournful Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes.

"What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has seized you?

Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you, Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another!

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations?

Have you so soon forgotten all the lessons of love and forgiveness?

This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred?

Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you!

See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compa.s.sion!

Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 'O Father, forgive them!'

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked a.s.sail us, Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, forgive them.' "

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the pa.s.sionate outbreak, While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, forgive them!"

NOTE.--Nova Scotia was first settled by the French, but, in 1713, was ceded to the English. The inhabitants refusing either to take the oath of allegiance or to bear arms against their fellow-countrymen in the French and Indian War, it was decided to remove the whole people, and distribute them among the other British provinces. This was accordingly done in 1755.

The villages were burned to the ground, and the people hurried on board the s.h.i.+ps in such a way that but a few families remained undivided.

Longfellow's poem of "Evangeline" is founded on this incident, and the above selection describes the scene where the male inhabitants of Grand-Pre' are a.s.sembled in the church, and the order for their banishment is first made known to them.

LXXIII. SONG OF THE s.h.i.+RT. (266)

Thomas Hood, 1798-1845, the son of a London bookseller, was born in that city. He undertook, after leaving school, to learn the art of an engraver, but soon gave up the business, and turned his attention to literature. His lighter pieces, exhibiting his skill as a wit and punster, soon became well known and popular. In 1821 he became subeditor of the "London Magazine," and formed the acquaintance of the literary men of the metropolis. The last years of his life were clouded by poverty and ill health. Some of his most humorous pieces were written on a sick bed. Hood is best known as a joker--a writer of "whims and oddities"--but he was no mere joker. Some of his pieces are filled with the tenderest pathos; and a gentle spirit, in love with justice and humanity, pervades even his lighter compositions. His "Song of the s.h.i.+rt" first appeared in the "London Punch."

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread: St.i.tch! st.i.tch! st.i.tch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the "Song of the s.h.i.+rt!"

"Work! work! work!

While the c.o.c.k is crowing aloof!

And work! work! work!

Till the stars s.h.i.+ne through the roof!

It is oh to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!

"Work! work! work!

Till the brain begins to swim; Work! work! work!

Till the eyes are heavy and dim!

Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the b.u.t.tons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream!

"O men, with sisters dear!

O men, with mothers and wives!

It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!

St.i.tch! st.i.tch! st.i.tch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,-- Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a s.h.i.+rt.

"But why do I talk of Death?

That Phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own; It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep; O G.o.d! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!

"Work! work! work!

My labor never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread--and rags, That shattered roof--and this naked floor-- A table--a broken chair-- And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there.

"Work! work! work!

From weary chime to chime!

Work! work! work!

As prisoners work for crime!

Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.

"Work! work! work!

In the dull December light, And work! work! work!

When the weather is warm and bright; While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, And twit me with the spring.

"Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet!

With the sky above my head, And the gra.s.s beneath my feet!

For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want, And the walk that costs a meal!

"Oh but for one short hour,-- A respite, however brief!

No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief!

A little weeping would ease my heart, But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread."

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread: St.i.tch! st.i.tch! st.i.tch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch-- Would that its tone could reach the rich!

She sang this "Song of the s.h.i.+rt."

LXXIV. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. (269)

Edouard Rene Lefebvre-Laboulaye, 1811-1883, was a French writer of note.

Most of his works involve questions of law and politics, and are considered high authority on the questions discussed. A few works, such as "Abdallah," from which the following extract is adapted, were written as a mere recreation in the midst of law studies; they show great imaginative power. Laboulaye took great interest in the United States, her people, and her literature; and many of his works are devoted to American questions.

He translated the works of Dr. William E. Channing into French.

Mansour, the Egyptian merchant, one day repaired to the cadi on account of a suit, the issue of which troubled him but little. A private conversation with the judge had given him hopes of the justice of his cause. The old man asked his son Omar to accompany him in order to accustom him early to deal with the law.

The cadi was seated in the courtyard of the mosque. He was a fat, good-looking man, who never thought, and talked little, which, added to his large turban and his air of perpetual astonishment, gave him a great reputation for justice and gravity.

The spectators were numerous; the princ.i.p.al merchants were seated on the ground on carpets, forming a semicircle around the magistrate. Mansour took his seat a little way from the sheik, and Omar placed himself between the two, his curiosity strongly excited to see how the law was obeyed, and how it was trifled with in case of need.