« НазадПродовжити »
LESSON XV. SPELL AND DEFINE--1. Emotions, agitations of the mind; movings of feelings. 2. Adieu, farewell. 3. Benefactress, a female who performs. acts of kindness. 4. Pater'nal, pertaining to a father. 5. Recur', como back. 6. Enveloped, covered. 7. Suppress, subdue. 8. Reluctance, unwillingness.
Leaving Home.--ABBOTT. 1. The lapse of years brought round the time, when James was to go away from home. He was to leave the roof of a pious father, to go out into the wide world to meet its temptations, and contend with its storms; his heart was oppressed with the many emotions, which were struggling there.
The day had come, in which he was to leave the fireside of so many enjoyments--the friends endeared to him by so many associations—so many acts of kindness.
2. He was to bid adieu to his mother, that loved, loveu benefactress, who had protected him in sickness, and rejoiced with him in health. He was to leave a father's protectior, to go forth and act without an adviser, and rely upon his own unaided judgment. He was to bid farewell to brothe!' : and sisters, no more to see them, but as an occasional visitor at his paternal home. O, how cold and desolate did the world appear! How did his heart shrink from launching forth to meet its tempests and its storms!
3. But the hour had come for him to go, and he inuse suppress his emotions, and triumph over his reluctance. Her went from room to room, looking, as for the last time, upola those scenes to which imagination would so often recur, an'f where it would love to linger. The well-packed trunk was in the hall, waiting the arrival of the stage. Brothers and sisters were moving about, hardly knowing whether to smili, or to cry
4. The father sat at the window, humming a mournful air, as he was watching the approach of the stage, whicks was t; bear his son away to take his place far from home, ia the busy crowd of a bustling world. The mother, with all the indescribable emotions of a mother's heart, was placing in a small bundle a few little comforts, such as none but a mother could think of, and, with most generous resolution, endeavoring to maintain a cheerful countenance, that, as far as possible, she might preserve her sin from unnecessary pain in the hour of departure,
5. “Here, my son," said she, “ is a nice pair of stockings
which will be soft and warm for your feet. I have run the heels for
you, for I am afraid you will not find any one who will quite fill a mother's place.” The poor boy was overAowing with emotion, and did not dare to trust his voice, with an attempt to reply.
6. “I have put a piece of cake here, for you may be hungry on the road, and I will put it in the top of the bundle, so that you can get it without any difficulty. And, in this needle book, I have put up a few needles, and some thread; for you may at times want some little stitch tiken, and you will have no mother or sisters to go to.”
7. The departing son could make no reply. He could restrain his emotion only by silence. At last, the rumbling of the wheels of the stage, was heard, and the four horses were reined up at the door. The boy endeavored by activity, in seeing his trunk and other baggage properly placed, to gain sufficient fortitude, to enable him to articulate his farewell. He, however, strove in vain. He took his mother's hand. The tear glistened for a moment in her eye, and then silently rolled down her cheek. He struggled with all his energy to say good-by, but he could not. In unbroken silence he shook her hand, and then in silence received the adieus of brothers and sisters, as one after another took the hand of their departing companion.
8. He then took the warm hand of his warm-hearted fa. ther. His father tried to smile, but it was the struggling smile of feelings, which would rather have vented themselves in tears. For a moment he said not a word, but retained the hand of his son, as he accompanied him out of the door to the stage. After a moment's silence, pressing his hand, he said, “ My son, you are now leaving us; you may forget your father and your mother, your brothers and your sisters, but oh, do not forget your God!"
9. The stage door closed upon the boy. The crack of the driver's whip was heard, and the rumbling wheels bore him rapidly away from all the privileges, and all the happiness of his early home. His feelings, so long restrained, now burst out, and sinking back upon his seat, he enveloped him. self in his cloak, and burst into tears.
10. Hour after hour the stage rolled on. Passengers tered and left; but the young man was almost insensible to every thing that passed. He sat in sadunss and in silence, in the corner of the stage, thinking of the loved home he had
left. Memory ran back through all the years of his child hood, lingering here and there, with pain, upon an act of disobedience, and recalling an occasional word of unkindness.
11. Just as the sun was going down the western hills, at the close of the day, he alighted from the stage, in the vil. lage of strangers, in which he was to find his new home, Not an individual there had he ever seen before. Many a pensive evening did he pass, thinking of absent friends. Many a lonely walk did he take, while his thoughts were far away among the scenes of his childhood. And when the winter evenings came, with the cheerful blaze of the fire-side, often did he think, with a sigh, of the loved and happy group encircling his father's fire-side, and sharing those joys he had left for ever. 12. Reader, you must soon leave your home, and leave it
The privileges and the joys you are now partaking, will soon pass away. And, when you have gone forth into the wide world, and feel the want of a father's care, and of a mother's love, then will all the scenes you have passed through, return freshly to your mind, and the remembrance of every unkind word, or look, or thought, will give you pain.
QUESTIONS.--1. Whom was James about to leave? 2. How did his father appear? 3. What things had his mother prepared for him? 4. How did he restrain his feelings on parting with his friends? 5. Describe their parting. 6. The journey. 7. How was the young man employed during his journey? 8. When did he reach his new home? 9. Of whom did he then often think? 10. What is said to the reader in the last verse ?
Wherein consists the difficulty of giving a distinct articulation, last sentence, second verse ? How are usiting, generous, preserve, stockings, privileges, memory, lingering, every, often pronounced? (Les. I. 6.).
LESSON XVI. SPELL AND DEFINE--1. Moral, relating to the conduct. 2. Intellectual, relating to the understanding. 3. Architects, builders; those who make their fortunes, as builders, a house. 4. Medioc'rity, a middle de gree. 5. Obscurity, the state of being unknown; darkness. 6. Observation, the act of noticing. 7. Fiat, decree. 8. Condor, a monstrous kind of eagle. 9. Empyreal, relating to pureness of air on account of great elevation.
No Ercellence without Labor.- WIRT. i. The education, moral and intellectual, of every indi. vidual, must be, chiefly, his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were right—both in morals and intellect-we
give their final shape to our characters, and thus become, emphatically, the architects of our own fortune. How else could it happen, that young men, who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies ?
2. Difference of talent will not solve it, because that dife ference is very often in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see issuing from the walls of the same collegenay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family-two young men, of whom the one shall be admitted to be a genius of high order, the òther, scarcely above the point of mediocrity ; yet you shall see the former sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness : while on the other hand, you shall observe the latter plodding his slow, way up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction an ornament to his family-a blessing to his country.
3. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their owr. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of learning that can open its portals to you, can do no more than to afford you the opportunity of instruction ; but it must depend, at last, on yourselves, whether you will be instructed or not, or to what point you will push your education.
4. And of this be assured—I speak, from observation, a certain truth : THERE LABOR. It is the fiat from which no power of genius can
5. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around a candle, till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the condor of South America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself, at pleasure, in that empyreal region, with an energy rather invigorated than weakened by the effort.
6. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exer. tion—this vig rous power of profound and searching invest. igation—this careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind and those long reaches of thought, that
“Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
IS NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT GREAT
7. This is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements, which are to enroll your names among the great men of the earth.
QUESTIONS.—1. What must be the education of every individual? 2 In what were the ancients right? 3. How does it appear from facts that we must be the architects of our own fortunes? 4. What can the best seminary of learning only afford 163? 5. Where is mount Chimborazo. above which the condor flies?
What Antithetic terms in the second verse? What Rule is given to their inflection? What inflections before 'each dash in the sixth vers and why?
L' SON XVII. SPELL AND DEFINE-1. Agitated, violently moved. 2. Lowering gloomy. 3. Dirge, a song expressive of sorrow. 4. Decline, refuse 5. Prime, best state. 6. Contri'tion, sorrow for sin; penitence. 7. Con doʻlence, grief for another's sorrows. 8. Plac'id, mild; calm.
Note.-In reading this piece, the faltering voice of a dying man, the stified accents of his contrite son, the stern expression of the minister, and the affectionate tones of the wife, should all be represented. The Penitent Son-at the Death-Bed of his Father.
WILSON 1. ERE the psalm was yet over, the door was opened, and a tall, fine-looking man entered, but with a lowering, dark countenance, seemingly in sorrow, in misery, and remorse. Agitated, confounded, and awe-struck by the melancholy and dirge-like music, he sat down on a chair, and looked with a ghastly face toward his father's death-bed.
2. When the psalm ceased, the father said with a solemn voice, " My son, thou art come in time to receive thy father's blessing. May the remembrance of what shall happen in this room, win thee from the error of thy ways. Thou art here to witness the mercy of thy God and Savior, whom thou hast denied.”
3. The minister looked, if not with a stern, yet with an upbraiding countenance, on the young man, who had not recovered his speech, and said, “ William! for three years past your shadow has not darkened the door of the house of God. They who fear not the thúnder, may tremble at the still small voice : now is the hour for repentance, that your father's spirit may carry up to heaven tidings of a contrite soul, saved from the company of sinners."