McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader Part 46

Sir R. You rogue, where are you running now?

Fred. To talk with Lieutenant Worthington.

Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him?

Fred. I can't tell till I encounter him; and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who has been disabled in his country's service, and is struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my sentiments.

Sir R. Stop, you rogue; I must be before you in this business.

Fred. That depends on who can run the fastest; so, start fair, uncle, and here goes.--(Runs out.)

Sir R. Stop, stop; why, Frederic--a jackanapes--to take my department out of my hands! I'll disinherit the dog for his a.s.surance.

Hum. No, you won't.

Sir R. Won't I? Hang me if I--but we'll argue that point as we go. So, come along Humphrey.

NOTES.-Ergo (pro. er'go) is a Latin word meaning therefore. Negatur (pro.

ne-ga'tur) is a Latin verb, and means it is denied.

The Tartars are a branch of the Mongolian race, embracing among other tribes the Calmucks. The latter are a fierce, nomadic people inhabiting parts of the Russian and Chinese empires.

Lx.x.xIV. MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. (310)

William Cowper, 1731-1800, was the son of an English clergyman; both his parents were descended from n.o.ble families. He was always of a gentle, timid disposition; and the roughness of his schoolfellows increased his weakness in this respect. He studied law, and was admitted to the bar, but never practiced his profession. When he was about thirty years of age, he was appointed to a clerks.h.i.+p in the House of Lords, but could not summon courage to enter upon the discharge of its duties. He was so disturbed by this affair that he became insane, sought to destroy himself, and had to be consigned to a private asylum. Soon after his recovery, he found a congenial home in the family of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. On the death of this gentleman, a few years later, he continued to reside with his widow till her death, a short time before that of Cowper. Most of this time their home was at Olney. His first writings were published in 1782. He wrote several beautiful hymns, "The Task," and some minor poems. These, with his translations of Homer and his correspondence, make up his published works.

His life was always pure and gentle; he took great pleasure in simple, natural objects, and in playing with animals. His insanity returned from time to time, and darkened his life at its close. When six years of age, he lost his mother; and the following selection is part of a touching tribute to her memory, written many years later.

Oh that those lips had language! Life has pa.s.sed With me but roughly since I heard them last.

My mother, when I learned that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?

Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?

Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss, Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.

Ah, that maternal smile! it answers--Yes!

I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day; I saw the hea.r.s.e that bore thee slow away; And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!

But was it such? It was. Where thou art gone, Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.

May I but meet thee on that peaceful sh.o.r.e, The parting word shall pa.s.s my lips no more.

Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return; What ardently I wished, I long believed; And, disappointed still, was still deceived; By expectation, every day beguiled, Dupe of to-morrow, even when a child.

Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrows spent, I learned at last submission to my lot; But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.

My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise,-- The son of parents pa.s.sed into the skies.

And now, farewell! Time, unrevoked, has run His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.

By Contemplation's help, not sought in vain, I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again; To have renewed the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine; And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft,-- Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.

Lx.x.xV. DEATH OF SAMSON. (312)

John Milton, 1608-1674, was born in London--eight years before the greatest English poet, Shakespeare, died. His father followed the profession of a scrivener, in which he acquired a competence. As a boy, Milton was exceedingly studious, continuing his studies till midnight. He graduated at Christ's College, Cambridge, where his singular beauty, his slight figure, and his fastidious morality caused his companions to nickname him "the lady of Christ's." On leaving college he spent five years more in study, and produced his lighter poems. He then traveled on the continent, returning about the time the civil war broke out. For a time he taught a private school, but soon threw himself with all the power of his able and tried pen into the political struggle. He was the champion of Parliament and of Cromwell for about twenty years. On the accession of Charles II., he concealed himself for a time, but was soon allowed to live quietly in London. His eyesight had totally failed in 1654; but now, in blindness, age, family affliction, and comparative poverty, he produced his great work "Paradise Lost." In 1667 he sold the poem for 5 Pounds in cash, with a promise of 10 Pounds more on certain contingencies; the sum total received by himself and family for the immortal poem, was 23 Pounds.

Later, he produced "Paradise Regained" and "Samson Agonistes," from the latter of which the following extract is taken. Milton is a wonderful example of a man, who, by the greatness of his own mind, triumphed over trials, afflictions, hards.h.i.+ps, and the evil influence of bitter political controversy.

Occasions drew me early to this city; And, as the gates I entered with sunrise, The morning trumpets festival proclaimed Through each high street: little I had dispatched, When all abroad was rumored that this day Samson should be brought forth, to show the people Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games.

I sorrowed at his captive state, But minded not to be absent at that spectacle.

The building was a s.p.a.cious theater Half-round, on two main pillars vaulted high, With seats where all the lords, and each degree Of sort, might sit in order to behold; The other side was open, where the throng On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand: I among these aloof obscurely stood.

The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, When to their sports they turned. Immediately Was Samson as a public servant brought, In their state livery clad: before him pipes And timbrels; on each side went arme'd guards; Both horse and foot before him and behind, Archers and slingers, cataphracts, and spears.

At sight of him the people with a shout Rifted the air, clamoring their G.o.d with praise, Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall.

He, patient, but undaunted, where they led him, Came to the place; and what was set before him, Which without help of eye might be essayed, To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed All with incredible, stupendous force, None daring to appear antagonist.

At length for intermission sake, they led him Between the pillars; he his guide requested, As overtired, to let him lean awhile With both his arms on those two ma.s.sy pillars, That to the arche'd roof gave main support.

He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined, And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed, Or some great matter in his mind revolved: At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud:-- "Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed I have performed, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld; Now, of my own accord, such other trial I mean to show you of my strength yet greater, As with amaze shall strike all who behold."

This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed; As with the force of winds and waters pent When mountains tremble, those two ma.s.sy pillars With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath,-- Lords, ladies, captains, counselors, or priests, Their choice n.o.bility and flower, not only Of this, but each Philistian city round, Met from all parts to solemnize this feast.

Samson, with these immixed, inevitably Pulled down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar only 'scaped who stood without.

NOTE.--The person supposed to be speaking is a Hebrew who chanced to be present at Gaza when the, incidents related took place. After the catastrophe he rushes to Manoah, the father of Samson, to whom and his a.s.sembled friends he relates what he saw. (Cf. Bible, Judges xvi, 23.)

Lx.x.xVI. AN EVENING ADVENTURE. (315)

Not long since, a gentleman was traveling in one of the counties of Virginia, and about the close of the day stopped at a public house to obtain refreshment and spend the night. He had been there but a short time, before an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent intention of becoming his fellow guest at the same house.

As the old man drove up, he observed that both the shafts of his gig were broken, and that they were held together by withes, formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. Our traveler observed further that he was plainly clad, that his knee buckles were loosened, and that something like negligence pervaded his dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomanry of our land, the courtesies of strangers pa.s.sed between them, and they entered the tavern. It was about the same time, that an addition of three or four young gentlemen was made to their number; most, if not all of them, of the legal profession.

As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, the conversation was turned, by one of the latter, upon the eloquent harangue which had that day been displayed at the bar. It was replied by the other that he had witnessed, the same day, a degree of eloquence no doubt equal, but it was from the pulpit. Something like a sarcastic rejoinder was made as to the eloquence of the pulpit, and a warm and able altercation ensued, in which the merits of the Christian religion became the subject of discussion.

From six o'clock until eleven, the young champions wielded the sword of argument, adducing with ingenuity and ability everything that could be said pro and con.

During this protracted period, the old gentleman listened with the meekness and modesty of a child, as if he were adding new information to the stores of his own mind; or perhaps he was observing, with a philosophic eye, the faculties of the youthful mind, and how new energies are evolved by repeated action; or perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, and on the rising generation, upon whom those future destinies must devolve; or, most probably, with a sentiment of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an argument which no art would be "able to elude, and no force to resist." Our traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in what was said.

At last one of the young men, remarking that it was impossible to combat with long and established prejudices, wheeled around, and with some familiarity exclaimed, "Well, my old gentleman, what think you of these things?" "If," said the traveler, "a streak of vivid lightning had at that moment crossed the room, their amazement could not have been greater than it was from what followed." The most eloquent and unanswerable appeal that he had ever heard or read, was made for nearly an hour by the old gentleman. So perfect was his recollection, that every argument urged against the Christian religion was met in the order in which it was advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles, was, if possible, more perfectly answered than it had already been done by Campbell. And in the whole lecture there was so much simplicity and energy, pathos and sublimity, that not another word was uttered.

"An attempt to describe it," said the traveler, "would be an attempt to paint the sunbeams." It was now a matter of curiosity and inquiry who the old gentleman was. The traveler concluded that it was the preacher from whom the pulpit eloquence was heard; but no, it was John Marshall, the Chief Justice of the United States.

NOTES.--David Hume (b. 1711, d. 1776) was a celebrated Scotch historian and essayist. His most important work is "The History of England." He was a skeptic in matters of religion, and was a peculiarly subtle writer.

George Campbell (b. 1719, d. 1796) was a distinguished Scotch minister. He wrote "A Dissertation on Miracles," ably answering Hume's "Essay on Miracles."

John Marshall (b. 1755, d. 1835) was Chief Justice of the United States from 1801 until his death. He was an eminent jurist, and wrote a "Life of Was.h.i.+ngton," which made him famous as an author.