THE BEST AND CHEAPEST SCHOOL BOOKS.

•' THE ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES

EMBRACES

McGuffey's Primary School Charts, 6 No's.

McGuffey's New Eclectic Speller, 1 BOOK.

McGuffey's New Eclectic Readers, 7 BOOKS.

McGuffey's New Eclectic Speakers, 2 BOOKS.

Ray's Series of Arithmetics, 6 BOOKS.

Ray's Series of Algebras, 2 BOOKS.

Ray's Plane and Solid Geometry, 1 BOOK.

Pinneo's Series of Grammars, 3 BOOKS.

Pinneo's Guide to Composition, 1 BOOK.

Popularity. — These School Books possess the highest merit, are more widely introduced than any other series published, and have received the cordial indorsement of the most intelligent and successful teachers throughout the Union.

Approved and adopted in many Schools in the New England States ;

I in the New York City Public Schools; extensively used in the Public

, Schools of Pennsylvania ; and, almost exclusively in the Schools of

Ohio, Indiana, and other States of the West and North-West; and

largely in nearly every other State where liberal attention is given to

(public instruction. Economy to Parents. — They combine the rare advantages of superior intrinsic merit, typographical beauty, cheapness, and exten- sive uniformity of adoption and use.

They have been recommended by State Superintendents of Public

Instruction of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota,

. Missouri, Kansas, and Kentucky ; by the State Beards of Education

*{ of nearly every State having a central Educational Board; and by

thousands of Superintendents, Teachers, and School Officers in all

f" sections of the Union.

THE ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.

OHIO.

From HON. ANSON SMYTH, late Slate Supt. of Public Instruction, OAia n

MCGUFFEY'S Old ECLECTIC READERS I esteemed as among the very best works of the kind; but the New are certainly a decided improve- ment upon the Old. I know of no others which I could more earnestly and honestly indorse.

I have examined with care the new editions of Ray's Arithmetics, and am greatly pleased with them. The PRIMARY is certainly a very decided improvement: I have seen none so well adapted for a text-book in the elements of Mental Arithmetic. The INTELLECTUAL is an admir- able work. The importance of Mental Arithmetic is ..\ow generally ap- preciated; and I know of no work that embodies so systematic, com- plete, and thorough a course in this useful branch of study. RAT'S PRACTICAL ARITHMETIC needs no praise. It is its own commendation.

PINNEO'S SERIES OF GRAMMARS I esteem as among the best text-books extant, for guiding the learner to a knowledge of the correct use of our language. The definitions are clear and exact; the rules are simple and comprehensive; and the whole plan and arrangement well adapted to achieve their purpose.

INDIANA.

From HON. M. J. FLETCHEB, former State Supt. Public Instruction, Ind.

The public sentiment, as expressed in Indiana by tne almost univer- sal use of the ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES OF SCHOOL BOOKS, embrac- ing McGuffey's New Series of Readers and Speller, Ray's Series of Arithmetics and Algebras, and Pinneo's Series of Grammars, was suf- ficient in itself to induce the State Board of Education to adopt them.

In addition to this, by careful examination, I am well satisfied that their true intrinsic and relative merit entitles them to such recommenda- tion. They are printed on good, firm, substantial white paper, are dur- ably bound, and of unrivaled cheapness.

ILLINOIS.

From HON. N. BATEMAN, State Supt. of Public Instruction, Illinois.

No series of books has ever obtained as many voices of approval from teachers as MCGUFFEY'S ECLECTIC READERS. Certainly no other Scries has been so popular throughout the West. We unhesitatingly say that wf know of no better books, and should not take the trouble to look for any. The printing is beautiful, the paper very fine, and tho binding good: and MoGuffey's Readers are proverbially cheap.

THE ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.

RAT'S ARITHMETICS have deservedly shared in the popularity of the Eclectic Series. The HIGHER ARITHMETIC is better than any other that we know to be used in this country. RAT'S ALGEBRAS are clear, full, and comprehensive. We advise all who wish to arrange a course of studies, including Algebra, to examine these before choosing.

MINNESOTA.

From HON. B. F. CRARY,/ormer State Supt. of Public Instruction, Minn,

I have examined McGuFFET's NEW ECLECTIC READERS, and have no hesitation in saying that they are superior to any similar text-books that have come under my observation. The standard of morals and taste in the Readers is very high, and in their Low PRICE, and beautiful printing and binding, they distance all competition. I rejoice that a Western House has been able to meet the increasing wants of the West in this great field.

IOWA.

From HON. OBAN FAVILLE, State Supt. of Public Instruction, Iowa.

Having recently reexamined the ECLECTIC SERIES OF SCHOOL BOOKS, I am fully confirmed in the opinion that they are the best Series, on the whole, now in use in the West. Their remarkable popularity, and the continued attachment manifested for them by practical Educators, give evidence both of their intrinsic worth, and of their adaptation to the place designed for them.

Without specifying further, I will say that MCGUFFET'S NEW ECLECTIC SERIES OF READERS, SPELLER, and PRIMART SCHOOL CHARTS, PINNEO'S SERIES OF GRAMMARS, and RAT'S SERIES OF ARITHMETICS and ALGEBRAS, are unsurpassed by any similar Series with which I am acquainted. I therefore recommend their continued use in our State.

MISSOURI.

From HON. W. B. STARKE,/ormer State Supt. of Public Instruction, Mo. I have taken much pains to ascertain what are the most approved text-books throughout the country, and after free consultation with lead- ing teachers from different sections of the State, and with their hearty sanction of this course, I recommend the following list of books to be used in the Common Schools of Missouri : MCGUFFET'S NEW SERIES OF READERS, SPEAKERS, and SPELLER, PINNEO'S SERIES OF GRAMMARS, and RAy's SERIES OF ARITHMETICS and ALGEBRAS.

THE ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.

WISCONSIN.

From HON. J. L. PICKARD, State Supt. of Public Instruction, Wis. The books I have recommended below, [McGuFFEY's NEW READERS, RA*'S ARITHMETICS, PINNEO'S GRAMMAR, and WHITE'S CLASS-BOOK o» GEOGRAPHY,] are such as commend themselves to my judgment. I wpuld advise their adoption in • all schools where no uniformity at present exists.

KANSAS.

From HON. WM. R. GRIFFITH, State Supt. of Public Instruction, Kan.

I recommend McGuFFEY's NEW EC* ECTIC SERIES OF READERS, SPEAKERS, and SPELLER, and RAY'S SERIES OF ARITHMETICS and ALGEBRAS to the favorable consideration of the Teachers of our Public Schools. These works possess real merit, and I trust they will be approved by the citi- zens of the State generally. I have spent a week in examining McGuf- fey's Series, and I most heartily commend them.

I have also, after careful examination, concluded to recommend PIN- NEO'S SERIES OF GRAMMARS. I have endeavored to examine the most popular works on the subject of Grammar, as a teacher rather than as a critic, and, in so doing, have been compelled to give my preference to Pinneo's. The early introduction of analysis, and the abundant black- board exercises provided, make Pinneo's Grammars very practical ivorks.

VALUABLE TESTIMONY.

From Rev. BISHOP CLARE, D. D,, formerly Editor of the Ladies' Repository.

I have had frequent occasion, during the past few years, to examine and reexamine the ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES. Taken a§ a whole, they are unquestionably the best issued by any house in America. The popularity enjoyed by the ECLECTIC SERIES rests upon the substantial basis of merit.

From I. W. ANDREWS, D. D., President of Marietta College.

I have examined carefully McGuFFEY's ECLECTIC READERS, and am prepared to speak of them in terms of unqualified commendation. They appear to me to combine more excellences than any other readers with which I am acquainted.

The favorable opinion I had formed of them from examination has been confirmed by the use of them in my own family. I was really charmed with them, and so were my children. I do not believe better books for this purpose were ever prepared : / have, never seen any as good.

ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.

MCGUFFEY'S

NEW

ECLECTIC SPEAKEE,

CONTAINING ABOUT

THREE HUNDRED EXERCISES

FOR

READING AND DECLAMATION.

ELECTROTYPE EDITION.

CINCINNATI: WILSON, HINKLE & CO

PHIL'A: CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER. NEW YORK: CLARK & MAYNARD.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year Eighteen Hun- dred and Fifty-Eight, by WINTHROP B. SMITH, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of Ohio.

lessons in this volume are copyright property, and their use by others not permitted. See paragraph 7 of preface.

Electrotyped at the Franklin Type Foundry. Cincinnati, Ohio.

PREFACE.

THE EXERCISES in this volume are from a great variety of the very best sources of American and English literature. They have be.en se- lected with reference to purity of sentiment, beauty of style, real elo- quence, interest and instructiveness of matter, and, especially, their adaptation to instruction in declamation and reading.

The peculiarities of this work are the following.

1. Every exercise may be appropriately used both for reading and speaking.

2. The exercises are very short. A great fault of most books of this kind is, that the extracts are too long for declamation, and the judg- ment and patience of the teacher much taxed in modifying them.

3. Many of the speeches and dialogues are so prepared, and arranged in a connected series, that either one of them may' be spoken alone, or any number of them in connection, thus leaving it at the option of the teacher to make the exercise long or short.

4. Prefixed to all the exercises which need it, is such explanation of the matter, or of the circumstances connected with the subject, or such information with regard to the author, as will render the extract intelligible and interesting. Learners are too often required to de- claim what they do not understand.

5. The Elementary Principles of reading and speaking are very fully explained and illustrated. The directions and exercises, espe- cially on the management and culture of the voice, and the remarks on gesture, all of which are particularly important to the speaker, have been prepared with great care, and are in accordance with the best American and English authors.

6. A highly elevated tone of religious and moral sentiment has been carefully secured throughout. This is esteemed especially important,

7

8 PREFACE.

although many popular school books contain matter very objection- able in this respect.

7. Great liberty has been taken with the exercises introduced into , this book. This was found necessary, in order to adapt them to the purpose for which they are here designed. Many articles have been entirely remodeled, and, to a considerable extent, rewritten. This has required much labor and thought, and renders them properly copy right property. For this reason, the credits are expressed as "from" the author named.

CONTENT

The Exercises in Poetry are marked thus. (*)

EXERCISE. PAGE.

Elementary Principles 15

1. Advance * 45

2. Eloquence, Nos. I, II ' 46

4. Denunciation of Catiline From Cicero. . 48

5. Catiline's Defiance* From Oroly. . 50

6. Expulsion of Catiline From Cicero. . 51

7. Power of a Free People From Everett. . 52

8. True Honor of a Nation 53

9. Vision of Liberty * 54

10. The Greek Warrior * From Bryant. . 56

11. Music of Industry * 57

12. Aaron Burr 59

13. Death of Hamilton, Nos. I, II From Mason. . 60

15. The Gambler's Wife* From Coates. . 63

16. Look. Aloft * 64

17. The Duel, (Dialogue,) Scenes I, II, III . . From Sheridan. . 64

20. Hayne on Webster . . 72

21. Webster's Reply to Hayne, Nos. I to V 73

26. New England's Dead * 79

27. New England From Prentiss. . 80

28. The Homes of England * From ffemans. . 81

29. The Hermit Hunter * From Tuppcr. . 82

30. The Doctor, (Dialogue,) Scenes I to IV . . From Fielding. . 83

34. Removal of Troops from Boston .... From Chatham. . 96

35. The Stamp Act From Chatham. . 98

36. Reconciliation with America From Chatham. . 99

37. On an Address to the King, Nos. I, II . . From Chatham. . 101

39. Apostrophe to Liberty * From Knowles. . 104

40. Gertrude * From Hemans. . 105

41. Description of a Fop* From Shakspeare. 107

42. Hotspur and King Henry, * (Dialogue,} . . From Shakspeare. 108

43. Hotspur's Soliloquy From Shakspeare. Ill

44. Partition of Poland From Fox. . . 112

45. Legislature of Ireland, Nos. I, II . . . . From Plunket. . 113

47. America From Phillips. . 116

48. Famine in Ireland -From Prentiss. . 117

49. Abou Ben Adhem * From Hunt. . . 119

9

10 CONTENTS.

EXERCISE. PAGE.

50. Resignation * From Longfellow. 120

61. The Beleaguered City* From Longfellow. 120

52. Breach of Promise, Nos. I, II . . . . . From Dickens. . 122

54. The Tender Husband* 125

55. The Sentimental Husband * From Hood. . . 126

56. The Influence of Woman From Webster. . 128

57. Marie Antoinette From Burke. . 129

58. Eienzi,* (Dialogue,} Scenes I, II . . . . From Mitford. . 130

60. True Eloquence ......... From Webster. . 136

61. Hamlet to the Players From Shakspeare. 137

62. Affectation in the Pulpit* From Cowper . 138

63. Evils of Intemperance From Sprague. . 139

64. Danger of Intemperance From Beecher. . 141

65. Water for Me * 142

66. Remorse of De Moor From Schiller. . 143

67. The Guilty Conscience* From Shakspeare. 144

68. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle * .... From Shakspeare. 145

69. National Morality From Beecher. . 146

70. Arrangements of Providence* .... From Pope. . . 147

71. Skepticism* From Campbell. 148

72. The Inquiry • 149

73. The Cross 150

74. Justice From Carlyle. . 152

75. Maeduff and Rosse,* (Dialogue.} .... From Shakspeare. 153

76. Secession, Nos. I, II, III From Webster. . 155

79. The American Republic * From Byron. . 159

80. The Union, Nos. I, II, III From H. Clay. . 160

83. Scene after a Battle * From Byron. . 164

84. Not on the Battlefield * From Pierpont. 166

85. Napoleon Bonaparte, Nos. I, II . . . . From Lamartine. 167

87. Lafayette in America ....... From Prentiss. . 170

88. Lafayette and Napoleon From Prentiss. . 172

89. Winter and Death * From Thomson. . 172

90. Rudiger's Last Banquet * 175

91. John Day * From Hood. . . 1 76

92. The Watchman, (Dialogue,} Scenes I, II . From Shakspeare. 178

94. Liberty of the Press From Curran. . 182

95. Clear the Way * 183

96. Press On * 184

97. Where Should the Scholar Live ? . . . From Longfellow. 185

98. The Beautiful * • . . 186

99. Invective against Mr. Flood From Grattan. . 187

100. Invective against Mr. Corry From Grattan. . 189

101. Denunciation of Verres From Cicero. . 190

10J2. Spartacus From Kellogg. . 192

CONTENTS. 11

EXEBCISE. PAGE.

103. The Gladiator * 194

104. Death of Marmion * From Scott. . . 196

105. Othello and lago,* (Dialogue,) . . . . From Shakspeare. 198

106. Matrimony From Fanny Fern. 201

107. The Disappointed Husband * 202

108. America Ascendant From Phillips. . 203

109. Washington From Phillips. . 204

HO. Wisdom of Washington From Fox. . . 205

111. Washington's Birth-day From Webster. . 207

112. What Constitutes a State * * 'V^'*1 '-£"£- . 208

113. Marathon* From Byron. . 209

114. Athens • From Macaulay. 210

115. Greece * From Byron. . 212

116. The Flight of Xerxes * 213

117. The Peruvian Prisoner, (Dialogue,) . . . From Sheridan. . 214

118. Rolla and Alonzo, (Dialogue,} From Sheridan. . 216

119. The Indians From Story. . 220

120. The Indian's Burial Place * From Bryant. . 222

121. The Defiance 224

122. The Seminole * 225

123. Gertrude of Wyoming* From Campbell. 226

124. Outalissi * From Campbell. 227

125. Paul Pry, (Dialogue,) . . . .... -. From Poole. . 229

126. Taxes From Sydney Smith.234;

127. A Political Conversion . .H •.*-*. . . . From Webster. . 235

128. The Coalition From Webster. . 237

129. Mr. Dane . - . . From Webster. . 238

130. Nature's Gentleman* 239

131. Bernadine Du Born * From Sigourney . 240

132. Richard I* •. / v From Ilemans. . 241

133. Prevalence of War '. . From Grimke. . 243

134. War Falsely Colored . . ... :•' V . From Chalmers.. 244

135. The Dying Soldier Vr:M'y-; . 245

136. War Unchristian . • 246

137. Peace * From Shelley. . 248

138. War * From Shelley. . 248

139. Teachings of Nature* From Pollok. . 249

140. The Hurricane * From Bryant. . 251

141. Summer Heat * From Thomson. . 252

142. No ! * From Hood. . . 253

143. The Sheep Stealer, (Dialogue,) Scenes I, II .254

145. What has America Done ? 259

146. True Ambition From H. Clay. . 260

147. Henry Clay From Seward. . 261

148. Remembrance of Good 263

12 CONTENTS.

EXEBCISE. PAGE.

149. Triumph of Hope * From Campbell. 264

150. The Three Homes * 265

151. J. Q. Adams, Nos. I, II . . . . 266 -^

153. Men who Never Die From Everett. . 268^*"

154. I Gather them In * 269

155. Bernardo Del Carpio * From Ifemans. . 270

156. Responsibility of Americans From Webster. . 272

157. Public Faith From Ames. . . 273

158. Public Virtue From If. Clay. . 275

159. Duty of Chief Magistrate From Webster. . 276

160. Two Hundred Years Ago* From Mellen. . 278

161. Rich and Poor From Webster. . 279

162. Nature and Art * From Goldsmith. 281

163. Cruelty* From Cowper. . 282

164. Robin Roughhead, (/%%«<>,) Scenes I, II, III 283

167. The Poor House * From Crabbe. . 289

168. Nobility of Labor From Deivey. . 290

169. Religion the Basis of Independence . . . From Quincy. . 291

170. Reform From Chopin. . 293

171. Never Despair * 294

172. Mothers of the West * From Gallagher. 295

173. Value of Reputation **T From Phillips. . 296

174. The Informer From Curran. . 297

175. Philosophy of Virtue From Canning. . 298

176. The Editor *. 299

177. The Quiz, (Dialogue,} 301

178. Greek Revolution From Webster. . 306

179. Liberty to Greece* From Percival. . 308

180. Greek War Song* From Campbell. 309

181. The Pilgrims, Nos. I, II From Everett. . 310

183. Arrival of the Mayflower From Everett. . 314

184. Fruits of Pilgrim Enterprise 316

185. The Pilgrim Fathers * From Pierpont. . 317

186. The Martyrs * From Hcmans. . 318

187. The Guebers* . From Moore. . 319

188. The Peasant Boy, (Dialogue,} 321

189. Orator Climax 325

190. Art of Puffing, (Dialogue,} From Sheridan. . 326

191. Defense of Socrates, Nos. I, II, III 331

194. Emmett's Defense, Nos. I, II, III, IV 335

198. Ireland From a Cornell. 342

199. Bertram * From Scott. . . 343

200. Mazeppa * From Byron. . 345

201. The Hunter's Song* From Proctor. . 347

202. Call on Hungary From Kossuth. . 348

CONTENTS. 13

EXERCISE. PAGE_

203. Hungary Prom Webster. . 350

204. Fate of Goldau* . . From NeaL . . 352

205. The Vulture * . . 353

206. A kide from Ghent to Aix * . . 355

207. The Wife, (Dialogue,) Nos. I, II, III . , . From Sheridan. . 357

210. Beauties of Sacred Literature .... From Grimke. . 366

211. Bless the Lord From the Bible. 367

212. Condition of the Wicked From the Bible. 368

213. Adam* . ;'' I ... 369

214. Mont Blanc * From Coleridge. 370

215. Progress of Science From Webster. . 372

216. The Present Age . • From Charming. 373

217. American Liberty From Story. . .375

218. American Literature From Grimke. . 376

219. The River,* Nos. I, II, III From Bryant . 377

222. True Popularity From Mansfield. 381

223. National Glory From II. Clay. . 382

224. Duty to Our Country From Story. . 384

225. Our Liberty in Our Own Keeping 386

226. The Torch of Liberty * From Moore. . 387

227. King Lear,* (Dialogue,} Scenes I to V . . From Shakspeare. 389

232. The Quack 403

233. The Learner * . 404

234. Plea for Ireland . From Grattan. . 406

235. Wrongs of Ireland From Phillips. . 407

236. Defense of Irish Character From Phillips. . 409

237. Irish Courtesy, (Dialogue,} 410

238. Redmond O'Neal * From Scott. . . 412

239. Scotland 414

240. The Last Minstrel,* Nos. I, II .... From Scott. . . 416

242. The War Gathering* . . . . t J. '. _ ;. From Scott. . . 420

243. The Bow* *. ' From Hemans. . 422

244. Speech on America . . From Barre. . . 423

245. American Taxation From Burke. . 425

246. England's Right to Tax America . . . From Burke. . 426

247. Otis on Taxation . f. '_. ';. . . . 427

248. The Pioneer* . . . ." . . . . . . From Brainard. 429

249. Roderic. Dhu,* (Dialogue,} ...... From Scott. . . 430

250. Bunker Hill Monument, Nos. I, II . . . From Webster. . 434 flofl. Monument to Washington From Everett. . 436

253. Soldiers of the Revolution From Sprague. . 438

254. Hector * From Homer. . 439

255. England's Dead * . From Hemans. . 441

256. Charge of Light Brigade * From Tennyson. 442

257. The Onset * . From Proctor. . 443

14 CONTENTS.

EXERCISE. PAGE.

258. Lament for Carthon . . . . ... . From Ossian. . 444

259. Burial of Ophelia, (Dialogue,) . . . . From Shakspeare. 445

260. Doctor Slop From Sterne. . 447

261. The Supper * 448

262. Caius Marius, Nos. I, II ". '•% '.^ ..' ,", / . 450

264. American Navy From Cobden. . 452

265. The Sailor From Stockton. . 454

266. The Wreck * From Hemans. . 455

267. Only One Night at Sea * .>.... . 456

268. Ennui, (Dialogue,} From Mathews. . 457

269. The Modern Belle* 460

270. The Embargo From Quincy. . 461

271. Political Corruption From M* Dvffie. . 462

272. Party Spirit From H. Clay. . 464

273. National Antipathies From Choate. . 465

274. Suppression of a Mob From Byron. . 466

275. The Murdered Traveler * From Bryant. . 468

276. The Death-Fire * From Stephens. . 469

277. The Miser* 470

278. Love of the World * From Cowper. . 472

279. Self-interest, (Dialogue,} 473

280. System of Finance From Mirabeau. 477

281. Hyder AH From Burke. . 478

282. Standing Armies From Pultney. . 480

283. Spirit of Peace 482

284. Our Republic an Experiment From Everett. . 483

285. L' Allegro* From Milton. . 484

286. II Penseroso * From Milton. . 486

287. Address to the Sun From Ossian. . 488

288. The Night* From Proctor. . 489

289. Night * rrom Montgomery. 490

290. Apostrophe to the Ocean * From Proctor. . 491

291. The Coral Grove* . From Per cival. . 492

292. The Miller, (Dialogue,} 493

293. Ode on Cecilia's Day * From Dryden. . 496

294. Drunkenness From Taylor. . 497

295. The Bowl * "... 498

296. There is a God ! 500

297. My Mother's Bible* .'!.'. 501

298. Survivors of Bunker Hill, Nos. I, II . . From Webster. . 602

ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

THE art of speaking well, requires attention to the following subjects :

ARTICULATION, THE VOICE, its management,

INFLECTION, THE VOICE, its culture,

EMPHASIS, GESTURE.

I. ARTICULATION.

ARTICULATION is the formation of sounds by the organs of speech.

To secure a correct and distinct articulation of words, the following faults must be carefully avoided :

Incorrect.	Correct.
dcs-t'ny col'ny eb'ny crit'cism	des-tz-ny. col-o-ny. eb-o-ny. crit-t-cism.

I. DROPPING A VOWEL.

Incorrect. Correct.

reg'lar reg-n-lar.

fcm'ral fem-o-ral.

man 'fold man-i-fold.

prob'ble prob-a-ble.

II. SOUNDING A VOWEL INCORRECTLY.

Incorrect.	Correct.	Incorrect.	Correct.
ob-stun-it	ob-sti-nate.	fel-er-ny	fel-o-ny.
wv-ent	e-vent.	cir-ki-late	cir-c?Mate.
ter-ri«b-ble	ter-rz-ble.	reg-/-late	reg-M-late.
judg-mwnt	jurlg-ment.	treat- nmnt	treat-ment.
pil-ler	pil-low.	tem-per-wnce	tem-per-ance.
		15

16

ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

III. OMITTING A CONSONANT.

Incorrect

He an* his brother. The severes' storm. Singin', talkin', shoutin'. They cas' the mas' down.

Correct.

He and his brother. The severest storm. Singing, talking, shouting. They casrf the maste down.

IV. MISPRONOUNCING SYLLABLES. Incorrect. Correct.

mis'-rwr-ble mis'-er-a-ble.

nes x-sa-ry ne x-ces-sa-ry .

tol'-rer-ble tolx-er-a-ble.

co-tern '-p'r'y co-tern '-po-ra-ry.

V. BLENDING WORDS TOGETHER. Incorrect, Correct.

He wen ton. He wentf on.

For man ^illusion given. For man's illusion given.

With fortitu ^resigned. With fortitude resigned.

Bri fas the summer. Bright as the summer.

PRACTICE is the only thing necessary to insure a correct and distinct articulation, except in those very few cases in which there is a defect in the organs of speech. But this practice must be judicious, faithful, and perseveringly con- tinued.

DIRECTIONS FOR PRACTICE.

I. Let the learner practice upon the vowels by pro- nouncing the word, and then the vowel sound.

U

3

u

4

u

boy now

For very extensive exercises on these sounds, see McGuffey's New Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Eclectic Readers.

1	i	2	2	2	2	2
mate	a	met	e	not	0	rub
2	2	3	3	3	3	•
mat	a	her	e	nor	0	fur
4	3 a	fine	i i	wolf	4 0	pull
fall	4 a	4	?	5 move	5 0	oi
5	5	3	3	6	6
was	a	sir	• 1	dove	0	ou
i	i	i	1	i	1
me	e	note	0	rude	U	Y sa

ARTICULATION.

17

II. Let the learner practice upon the consonant sounds, single and combined, pronouncing first the word, and then the consonant element.

WORD. ELEMENTS.	WORD. ELEMENTS.	WORD. ELEMENTS.
bib b.	paddle dl.	mix ks.
did d.	paddles dlz.	mixt kst.
fife f.	paddlest dlst.	sect kt.
gig g-	paddled did.	sects kts.
he h.	drop dr.	queen kw.
jo j.	bids dz.	fold Id.
kick k.	bidst dst.	folds Idz.
lull 1.	muffle fl.	fold'st Idst.
mum m.	muffles flz.	gulf If.
nun n.	muffled fid.	gulfs Ifs.
pop p.	muffledst fldst.	tills Iz.
row r.	from fr.	tillst 1st,
sit s.	pufs fs.	hilt It.
tat t.	pufst fst.	hilts Its.
van v.	sift ft.	hem'd md.
web w.	sifts fts.	hem'dst mdst.
yet y.	siftst ftst.	nymph mf.
zag z.	joggle gl.	nymphs mfs.
zha zh.	joggles glz.	hems mz.
sha sh.	jogglest gist.	hemst mst.
chin ch.	joggled gld.	send nd.
the th.	joggledst gldst.	sends ndz.
thin th.	digs gz.	sendst ndst.
hang ng.	digst gst.	kindl' ndl.
brim br.	digg'd gd.	kindl's ndlz.
blab bl.	digg'dst gdst.	kindl'st ndlst.
babbles biz.	grim gr.	kindl'd ndld.
babblest blst.	wedg'd ~ jd.	kind'ldst ndldst.
babbled bid.	clip kl.	ranks nks.
babbledst bldst.	tackl's klz.	rankst nkst.
dubs bz.	tackl'st klst.	rank'd nkd.
dubst bst.	tackl'd kid.	rank'dst nkdst.
robd bd.	tackl'd'st kldst.	flinch nch.
robdst bdst.	crop kr.	flinch'd nchd.
NEW EC. S.— 2

18

ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

WORD. ELEMENTS.	WORD. ELEMENTS.	WORD. ELEMENTS.
change nj. chang'd njd. rings ngz. ring'd ngd. runs nz.	darts rts. dartst rtst. parch rch. parch'd rchd. scan sk.	bang'd ngd. bangdst ngdst. thinks nks. thinkst nkst. rank'd nkd.
runst nst.	asks sks.	rankdst nkdst.
rent nt.	ask'd skd.	width dth.
rents ntz.	askst skst.	widths dths.
plan pi. print pr. sept pt. septs pts. cord rd.	ask'dst skdst. lisp sp. lisps sps. lisp'd spd. fist st.	bulge Ij. bulg'd Ijd. bulb Ib. bulbs Ibz. milk Ik.
cords rdz.	fists sts.	milks Iks.
cordst rdst.	sweet sw.	milkst Ikst.
hark rk.	strut str.	milk'd Ikd.
harks rks.	bottl' tl.	milk'dst Ikdst.
harkst rkst.	bottles tlz.	helm 1m.
hark'd rkd.	bottlest tlst.	helms Imz.
hark'dst rkdst. hurl rl. hurls rlz. hurlst rlst. hurl'd rid. hurl'dst rldst.	bottl'd tld. bottl'dst tldst. hits ts. hitst tst. try tr. twelve tw.	help Ip. helps Ips. helpst Ipst. help'd Ipd. help'dst Ipdst. valve Iv.
urge rj. urg'd rjd. harm rm. harms rmz. harmst rmst. harm'd rmd. harm'dst rmdst.	prism zm. puzzl' zl. puzzles zlz. puzzlest zlzst. puzzl'd zld. pwzzl'dst zldst. shrink shr.	valves Ivz. health 1th. healths Iths. filch Ich. filch'd Ichd. turf rf. turfs rfs.
burn . rn.	sooth'd thd.	turfst rfst.
burns rnz.	soothes thz.	turf'd rfd.
burnst rnst.	sooth'st thzt.	turf'dst rfdst.
burn'd rnd. burn'dst rndst.	sings ngz. singst ngst.	throb thr. thwack thw.

ARTICULATION. 19

III. Let the learner practice upon words and sentences containing difficult sounds or combinations.

EXAMPLES.

Thrifty, hlotck'd, milk'd, prob'dst, begg'dst. PlucA,-' dst, hoast'st, vfrong'dst, prostrate, hush'dst. Thou spli^'s^ the umvedgeable and gnarled oak.

When Ajax strives some rocks \ast weight to throw. Up the 7tigh 7iill he heaves a 7*uge round stone. The battle lusts still. The hosts still stood.

He could pay no one. He could pain no one. His cry moved me. His crime moved me. Wastes and deserts. Waste sand deserts.

And gleaming, and streaming, and steaming, and beaming. And curling, and whirling, and purling, and twirling. Advanc- ing, and dancing, and prancing, and glancing.

Delaying, and straying, and playing, and spraying. Lucu- bration, lugubrious, incalculably, disinterestedly. Apocrypha, agricultural, astrological, chronological.

He gave him. good advice which he did not 7*eed. He came at last too late to be .of any service. The magistrates stood on an elevated platform.

A good deal of disturbance seemd aboutf to follow. No one dared do what ougM to have been done. Co-extensively, neces- sarily, ordinarily, apologetic.

Apocalyptic, congratulatory, expostulatory, ecclesiastical. Spirituality, compatibility, dietetically, authoritatively. Anni- hilation, colloquially, collaterally, appropriate.

A thousand shrieks for hopeless inercy call. The act more than all other acts laid the ax at the root. Then crac&Zing, crashing thunder down.

Thou hast not as7ced riches, or wea?/7i, or honor. Thou hast not as&ed long life, but hast asked wisdom. The magistrates ought to prove the charge.

The magistrates sought to prove the charge. On both sides an ocean exists. On both sides a ?iotion exists.

He proposed an amicable adjustment. The ceremoniousness of his incommunicability is inexplicable. Most hypocritical was the counter-revolutionary movement.

20 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

His extraordinary untractableness shows no disinterestedness. I never saw such a saw as this saw to saw with. I say that, that that that man said is not that that I said.

When a twister atwisting would twist him a twist. For twisting a twist three twists he entwists. If one of the twists untwists from the twist The twist untwisting untwists the twist.

Robert Roily rolled a round roll round. A round roll Robert Roily rolled round, round. Where rolled the round roll Roily rolled round ?

QUESTIONS. — To -what subjects does the art of speaking well require attention? What is articulation? What fault must be avoided 1st? 2d? 3d? 4th? 5th? (Give examples under each.) What is ne- cessary to insure a good articulation ? What method of practice is recommended 1st? 2d? 3d? (Give examples under each.)

II. INFLECTION.

INFLECTION is an upward or downward slide of the voice.

The rising inflection is an upward slide, and is denoted by the acute accent, thus, (") : as, Has he gone"? Will you come"?

The falling inflection is a downward slide, and is de- noted by the grave accent, thus. (^); as, Where will you gov ? What has happened^ ?

The circumflex is the union of the two slides on the same syllable, and is marked thus, ("-), where the voice commences with the falling and ends with the rising in- flection ; or thus, (— ), where the order is reversed; as,

They require us to be frugal,

While they revel in luxury.

A MONOTONE is the utterance of successive syllables in one unvaried key, and is denoted thus, (-); as, Be ready, Gods, with all your thunder-bolts.

INFLECTION. 21

MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES.

Shall we stay', or gov ? * Do you say yes', or nov ?

Is he an enemy ', or a friendv ? lie is a friend^, not an enemy '.

Will you go to-day', or to-morrowv? I will go to-day v, not to-morrow '.

I am no orator, as Brutus is.

He must be a fool to do that.

0 the grave ! the grave ! it buries every error !

It covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment,

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth.

True case in writing, comes from artv, not chance', As those move easiest ', who have learned to dancev. Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust'? Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death'? Is the king dead'? the empire unpossessed'?

Who can hold fire in his hand,

By thinking on the lofty Caueasusv ?

What must we do nowv ? Must we submit'? Did you say at', or hatv ? I said atv, not hat'. Does Caesar most deserve fame', or blamev?

RULES FOR INFLECTION.

RULE I. — Sentences and clauses which make com- plete sense, require the falling inflection.

EXAMPLES.

It is truev, my liege: you are the most powerful of kingsv. We are all your slavesv : we kiss the dust of your feetv. He that receiveth you, receiveth mev : and he that receiveth me, receiveth him that sentv me.

Exceptions. — Emphasis, See Eule III.

Negation, . .J'i.- >:-. • ":i* . See Rule V.

Antithesis, See Rule IX.

Harmony, See Rule VI.

22 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

ItuLE II. — Emphasis generally requires the falling inflection.

EXAMPLES.

Awakev, ye sons of Spain: a\vakev, advanced Chargev, Chester, chargev ! Onv, Stanley, onv. I insistv upon this point: I urgev it: I pressv it. All that I havev, all that I hopev, I stake upon it

Exception. — See Emphasis, page 27.

RULE III. — Interrogative sentences and clauses, which can not be answered by yes or no, generally require the falling inflection.

EXAMPLES.

Who discovered Americav ? Who are thesev ? What must I dov ? Where are the wisev ?

Exception. — When questions like the preceding are re- peated, they take the rising inflection ; as,

Who" discovered America? Who" are these?

REMARK. — Although emphasis generally requires the falling inflection, it is sometimes denoted or aided by a change of the natural inflection, in which case the rising is used for the falling, as in the preceding example.

RULE IV. — Where the sense is suspended or incom- plete, the rising inflection is generally used.

EXAMPLES.

The sunset hues', so bright ', so beautiful', have vanished. Friends', Romans', countrymen', lend me your ears. As the morning dew vanishes', so life passes away. The wind having lulled', they made sail for the shore.

Exceptions. — 1. Relative emphasis; see page 27.

2. Intense emphasis ; as, Hubertv, Hubertv, save me.

3. Formal terms of address ; as, My lords and gentlemenv, I ask yonr attention.

INFLECTIONS. 23

RULE V. — Negative sentences and clauses usually require the rising inflection.

EXAMPLES.

This is not an isolated case". We are not left alone to meet temptation". They are not fighting ": do not disturb " them.

Exceptions. — 1. Emphasis; as, Do you say they are fighting? They are not^ fighting.

2. General propositions ; as, Thou shalt not killv.

RULE VI. — When a sentence closes with the falling inflection, the rising often precedes it, for the sake of harmony.

EXAMPLES.

Death comes to the king', and to the beggarv. Every sorrow is hushed", every pang is extinguishedv.

Exception. — Emphasis ; as, Every manv, every womanv, every childv was slain.

RULE VII. — Interrogative sentences and clauses which can be answered by yes or no, generally require the rising inflection.

EXAMPLES.

Will you deny" it?

Can you resist such" motives?

Exception. — Emphasis ; as,

Will^ you deny it?

Can> you resist such motives?

RULE VIII. — Interrogative exclamations, and words repeated as a kind of echo to the thought, require the rising inflection.

EXAMPLES.

Who believes" it? Who does notv believe it? And this man is called a poetv. A poet"! Why, he is a mere writer of doggerel.

Ha"! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?

24 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

RULE IX. — Words and clauses used antithetically, or in contrast, require opposite inflections.

EXAMPLES.

The young' and the oldv, the rich' and the poorv, alike go the way of all the earth.

Are animals governed by instinct', or by reasonv ? Homer was the greater genius', Virgil the better artistv. A soldier should obeyv, not direct' his general. It is virtuev, not wealth' that is respected.

SERIES.

A SERIES is a number of words or clauses, following one another in the same construction.

A Simple series consists of words ; as,

Beauty, wealth, honor, power, are ephemeral.

A Compound series consists of claiises ; as, The sky was cloudless ; the breeze moved lightly ; the grass looked fresh; and the merry crickets chirped in all directions.

A Commencing series commences a sentence or clause; as, Beauty, wealth, honor, and power, are ephemeral.

A Concluding series concludes a sentence or clause; as, Nothing is more ephemeral, than beauty, wealth, honor, or power.

RULE X. — The members of a commencing series re- quire the falling inflection, except the last, which receives the rising inflection.

The members of a concluding series require the fall- ing inflection, except the last but one, which has the rising inflection.

COMMENCING SERIES.

Beauty^, wealthv, honorv, power', are ephemeral. To succor the oppressedv, to relieve the needy v, to advise the ignorantv, to comfort the afflicted', is the duty of all.

INFLECTION. 25

CONCLUDING SERIES.

Nothing can be more ephemeral than beauty^, wealthv, honor', or power's

It is the duty of all, to succor the oppressed^, to relieve the needy v, to advise the ignorant', and to comfort the afflictedv.

Exception 1. — When the members of a series are not at all emphatic, they receive inflection according to previous rules ; as,

James', William', and Henry', are at school.

He is a man of principle', intelligence', and influenced

Exception 2. — When the members of a series are strongly emphatic, they may all receive the falling inflection ; as, Not one manv, not one womanv, not one childv was saved.

Exception 3. — When a series forms a climax, the last member may receive the falling inflection ; as, Days', months', years,' and agesv, shall circle away.

REMARK. — It is becoming very common with good speakers, to give the rising inflection to all the members of a commencing series, and to all the members of a con- cluding series, except the last.

Others use the rising inflection in a commencing series, and the falling inflection in a concluding series.

PARENTHESIS.

A CLAUSE in a parenthesis, should close with the same inflection that next precedes it, unless it is complicated or emphatic, when it must be governed by general rules. A slight pause should be made before and after it, and it should be read in a monotone or in a low voice.

RULE XI. — The circumflex is used in ironical, con- ditional, and sometimes in contrasted language. EXAMPLES.

A little thing! a very little thing! I only shoot at my child.

What have I done of which you can complain? If you say yes, then I say no. *'•

NEW EC. S. — 3

26 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

RULE XII. — The monotone is used in grave and solemn subjects.

EXAMPLES.

Thus saith the High and Lofty One That inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy, I dwell in the high and holy place. Yet a few days, and thee the all-beholding sun Shall see no more, in all his course.

POETIC INFLECTIONS.

In Poetry the inflections are determined by the same rules as those in prose, with this exception, that there is a greater tendency to the use of the rising inflection in the former, than in the latter.

QUESTIONS. — What is inflection? What is the rising inflection? The falling? The circumflex? The monotone? (Give examples under each.) Repeat Rule 1, with example. Rule 2. Rule 3. What exception? Rule 4. Exceptions? Rule 5. What exceptions? Rule 6. What exception? Rule 7. What exception? Rule 8. Rule 9. What is a series? A simple series? A compound series? A commencing series ? A concluding series ? Repeat Rule 10. Ex- ception 1. 2. 3. What is the remark? What is said of parenthe- sis? Repeat Rule 11. Rule 12. What of poetic inflections?

III. EMPHASIS.

EMPHASIS consists in a certain manner of uttering a word or phrase, designed to impress the idea forcibly upon the hearer.

Emphasis may be denoted by italics, or by small, or large capitals.

The object of emphasis may be accomplished,

1. By increased stress; as,

Strike, till the last armed foe expires, t STRIKE, for your altars and your fires.

2. By low tones; as,

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips; the/oe/ they come! they come!

EMPHASIS. 27

3. By change of inflection ; as,

If we regard not youthv, we should respect age'. The sweetest melody falls powerless upon the deaf' ear. See Remark, page 22.

4. By a pause; as,

Strike— for the green graves of your sires, GOD — and your native land.

Banished — from Rome ? tried — and — convicted — TRAITOR ? If ROME — MUST — PALL— WE — are innocent.

REMARK.— This, ( — ) is called the Rhetorical Pause, and,' when used with judgment, gives great force and beauty to emphasis.

5. By change of accent; as,

G^'-ing and /br'-giving are different things. I said per '-verted, not cow '-verted.

ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS.

ABSOLUTE emphasis is that which is independent of any comparison with other words or ideas.

EXAMPLES.

Temperance promotes health.

The power of faith was the preacher 'B subject.

We have petitioned ; we have REMONSTRATED ; we have SUPPLI- CATED; we have PROSTRATED ourselves at the foot of the throne.

AWAKE ! ARISE ! or be forever fallen.

'T is horrible! 't is hideous! 't is hateful!

0 Hubert ! save me ! SAVE me ! from these bloody men.

Charge, Chester, charge; on, Stanley, on.

RELATIVE EMPHASIS.

Relative emphasis is that which denotes or implies antithesis, or comparison with some thing else.

ONE SET OP ANTITHETIC WORDS.

It is more blessed to give, than to receive.

28 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

They only «i///ir injuries meekly, \\h» never inflict thorn. He that knows himself, knows oMer«. Study not to shmr kiiowli-d.uy. l»ut to acquire it. ', It is easier to »nen<£ our faults, than to A We thorn. Those who can not bear a jost, should never make ono.

TWO SETS OP ANTITHETIC WORDS. The one was distinguished for his goodness; the other, for hia vileness, The 0»mpfc inherit folly ; the prudent are crowned with

To err is human; in forgive, divine. Fame's flight is glory's fall.

Why beholdest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, and con- siderest not the beam in thine otr» eye.

THREE SETS OP ANTITHETIC WORDS.

The former reasons justly from false data ; the latter, falsely from just data.

Pedantry is wrong by nites; common sense is rt<7/^ without them.

ANTITHESIS IMPLIED.

0 death! the #oo<J man's friend!

Implied. (The &ad man's enemy.)

In their prosperity, my friends shall neper hear of me.

Implied. (In their adversity, always.)

Shall we die tamely f die atowe ?

Implied, (and not bravely f soiling our lives dearly?)

A. friendly eye would never see such faults.

Implied. (An unfriendly eye alone would see them.)

RHETORICAL AND POETIC PAUSES.

A pause ia often made, when not required by the gram- matical construction, to give emphasis to the thought. This is called tho rhetorical pause. For an explanation and examples of this, see page 27.

1 M poetry, also, pauses are required for the purpose of uiviiiu beauty and expression to the language. These occur,

EMPHASIS. 29

1. At the end of each line; as,

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. About the middle of each line, when it is called the cesura, and marked thus ( || ) ; as,

They laid her where || the sun and moon Look on her tomb || with loving eye,

And I have heard || the breeze of June Sweep o'er it, || like a sigh,

And the wild river's || wailing song

Grow dirge-like, || as it stole along.

3. Toward the beginning and close of each line, when it is called the demi-cesura, and marked thus ( | ) ; as,

You must wake | and call me early || call me early | mother

dear; To-morrow '11 be | the happiest time || of all the glad | new

year.

Ah ! there | it stands || the same | old house !

And there || that ancient tree, Where I | first trod || in boyish | pride

And laughed || in ancient glee.

REMARK. — These poetic pauses should not be so long or so placed, as materially to affect the sense. That at the end of the line should be the longest, the cesura next, and the demi-cesura should be a very slight pause, and some times may be omitted altogether.

QUESTIONS.— What is emphasis ? How is it denoted 1st? 2d? 3d? 4th? What remark under this head? What is the 5th manner of denoting it? What is absolute emphasis? Give examples. Rela- tive? Give examples of one set. Two sets. Three sets. Implied? Where do poetic pauses occur 1st? 2d? 3d? What is the remark upon poetic pauses?

0* T

30 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

IV. OF THE VOICE.

ITS MANAGEMENT AND CULTURE.

With reference to the voice, three things are to be chiefly considered; viz. PITCH, QUANTITY, and QUALITY.

or PITCH. PITCH of voice is its degree of elevation.

The Pitch in speaking, as in music, may vary from the lowest to the highest tones. These tones may be consid- ered as MEDIUM, Low, or HIGH.

The MEDIUM PITCH is that generally used in common conversation.

This differs in individuals. The voice ranges above or be- low this, according to the sentiment, but returns to it, and usually commences and closes a sentence upon this key-note.

It is appropriate to the narrative, descriptive, didactic, and argumentative styles.

The Low PITCH includes all tones below the medium pitch. This prevails chiefly in the expression of reve- rence, awe, sublimity, caution, scorn, contempt, etc.

EXERCISES IN LOW PITCH.

Let the learner practice the following examples repeat- edly, going through them all, first in a tone a little below the medium pitch, then again a little lower, and so on, until he has reached the lowest capacity of his voice. Let not suppression of force be mistaken for low pitch.

a ale burn woe time low

e eel there was doom bow

i isle aim has morn call

o old aid man arm all

Hail, glorious light!

The song began from Jove.

Come to the bridal chamber, death.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth.

OF THE VOICE. 31

Bless the Lord, 0 my soul and all that is within me, bless his holy name !

Unto thee I lift up mine eyes, 0 thou that dwellest in the heavens.

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my head stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof. An image was before mine eyes ; there was silence, and I heard a voice saying, "Shall mortal man be more just than God?"

Thou glorious mirror! where the Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, Calm or convulsed, in freeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of Eternity, the throne

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

(In the following extract, King John is persuading Hubert to mur- der his nephew Arthur, who is rightful heir to the throne. Hubert's part may be read or spoken by the teacher or some one else, and King John's in low tones, by the one who is practicing.)

King John. I had a thing to say, — but let it go ; The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds, To give me audience.

If this same were a church-yard where we stand, And thou possess-ed with a thousand wrongs :

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Low. .

Had baked my blood and made it heavy, thick ; Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ; Then, in despite of brooded, watchful day, I would into this bosom pour my thought. But, ah, I will not. Yet I love thee well ; (.And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.

32 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

Hubert. So well, that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, I 'd do it.

K. John. Do I not know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy. I '11 tell thee what, my friend,

Low.

He is a very serpent in my way ;

I And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth trace,

He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? [ Thou art his keeper.

Hub. And I will keep him so That he shall not offend your majesty.

Low. | K. John. Death.

Hub. My lord. „ .

Low. | K. John. A grave.

Hub. He shall not live.

f K. John. Enough. I could be merry now. Hubert. I love thee.

LOW. •{ -nr 11 T MI i_ ,. T • i. j t? j.i-

Well, I 11 not say what 1 intend for thee : 1 Remember

NOTE. — Additional examples should be selected by the teacher.

REMARK. Exercises on Low Pitch should be numerous and thoroughly practiced. Strength and flexibility of voice will be thus increased, and by a judicious and skillful use of these tones, the speaker will greatly increase his power over an audience.

The HIGH PITCH includes all tones above the medium pitch.

It is used in the expression of astonishment, surprise, anger, and great excitement generally.

EXERCISES ON HIGH PITCH.

Let the following examples be practiced repeatedly and thoroughly, first, in a tone a little higher than the medium pitch, then again, a little higher still, and so on, until the highest pitch is reached. Let not loudness be mistaken for high pitch.

OF THE VOICE. 33

8	aid	doom	bear	thee	star
e	ease	bale	war	dome	all
i 0	mine low	arm home	call thou	save hail	pure brow

The combat deepens, on ye brave ! Who rush to glory or the grave.

I tell thee, thou art defied.

To arms ! the Greek ! they come ! they come !

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up 'with our English dead. When the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger ; Stiffen the sinews ; summon up the blood ;

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.

On, on you noble English,

Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war proof!

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,

Have, in these parts, from morn till even, fought,

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument,

I see you stand, like greyhounds, in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot :

Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge,

Cry— Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George.

The border slogan rent the sky, A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry ;

Loud were the clanging blows ; Advanced, forced back, now low, now high,

The pennon sunk and rose.

The war, that for a space, did fail, Now trebly thundering swept the gale, And Stanley ! was the cry.

A light on Marrnion's vision spread,

And fired his glazing eye : With dying hand, above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade,

And shouted—" Victory !"

"Charge! Chester, charge ! on! Stanley, on 1" Were the last words of Marmion.

NOTE. — Let the teacher add to these, other examples.

34 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

COMPASS of voice consists in the power of uttering tones from a low to a high pitch.

This varies in individuals, but may be very much in- creased by practice.

EXERCISE ON COMPASS.

Let the pupil pronounce the following words in tones successively from the lowest to the highest capacity of his voice, according to the scale of music. Let him go on as much higher or lower than the model, as he can. At every new effort, the compass of the voice will increase.

MODEL.

12 — sol o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

11 — fa o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

10 — me o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

9 — ra 0 — holy, holy, holy, holy.

8 — do o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

7 — se o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

6 — la o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

5 — sol o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

4 — fa o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

3 — me o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

2 — ra o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

1 — do o — holy, holy, holy, holy.

a	ale	aid	all	joy	world
e	eve	need	call	how	groan
i	mine	find	was	rain	high
0	old	home	run	roam	burn

High up the hill he hies.

Man marks the earth with ruin.

Round the old home he roams.

Roll on, thou dark blue ocean, roll.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee.

Thou image of eternity, the throne of the Invisible !

Thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

0 sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!

OF THE VOICE. 35

0 sailor boy, sailor boy, never again

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay !

NOTE. — The two exercises preceding this, have been also exercises on compass. But the teacher can easily supply any number of ad- ditional examples he may choose. Pages 147, 148, 173, 183, and many others of this book, furnish appropriate examples.

QUANTITY.

Quantity is the force of utterance, or stress of voice.

It has no reference to high or low tones, and must be carefully distinguished from them. On the same pitch, the utterance may vary in all degrees, between the softest and loudest tones. Practice will increase this power almost indefinitely.

EXERCISE ON QUANTITY.

Practice each word and sentence, as indicated in the model, commencing with the softest and passing on grad- ually to the loudest utterance, retaining the same pitch, and dwelling on the vowel sound.

MODEL.

o o o OOOOOOOO

aw aw aw aw aw aw aw aw aw aw aw aw

or eel ale ode boy bat

all eve aid own joy hat

fall ear aim old oil rat

ball east ache oat join mat

All men are mortal.

The foe ! they come ! they come !

And this, 0 world, is thy boon.

Now who be ye would cross, to-night, This dark and stormy water ?

Boatman ! do not tarry ! And I ;11 give thee a silver pound

To row us o'er the ferry.

NOTE. — The teacher will readily find additional exercises in almost any part of this book. It is recommended also that the examples given in the exercises on pitch be practiced under this head.

36 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

REMARK. — Fear, caution, awe, reverence, and tender and solemn emotions, generally require soft tones: the narra- tive, argumentative, didactic styles, medium loudness ; and passion, and great excitement, loud tones. It must be taken for granted, however, that, with a moderate degree of judgment and practice, the pupil will naturally adapt his voice to the subject. A few examples are given as specimens.

EXERCISE ON SOFT TONES.

Tread softly ! bow the head !

In reverent silence bow! No passing bell doth toll, Yet an immortal soul

Is passing now.

For the remainder, see McGuffey's New High School Reader, page 457.

I have seen angels by the sick one's pillow ;

Theirs was the soft tone and the soundless tread, When smitten hearts were drooping like the willow,

They stood between the living and the dead. For the rest of this, see McGuffey's New High School Reader, page 480.

EXERCISE ON LOUD TONES.

Ye sons of France, awake to glory !

Hark ! Hark ! what myriads bid you rise ! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary ;

Behold their tears and hear their cries ! Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding,

With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and desolate the land,

While liberty and peace lie bleeding? To arms ! to arms ! yo brave !

The avenging sword unsheathe ! March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved

On victory or death !

For the rest of this, see McGuffey's New High School Reader, page 125.

Additional exercises may be found on the following pages of this book.

Soft tones, pages 120, 150, 186, 222, 223, 226, 227.

Loud tones, pages 50, 109, 110, 150, 176, 189, 190, 448.

OF THE VOICE. 37

REMARK. — The element of Time, or Movement, is some times included under Quantity. This refers to the rap- idity of utterance, which depends upon the time given to the vowel sounds and upon the length of the pauses. The preceding exercises may be used for practice in Movement, by repeating them in all variations of time, from the slow- est to the most rapid.

QUALITY.

QUALITY denotes the kind of sound.

By this, chiefly, we distinguish different voices, and not by pitch or quantity. A number of singers may utter suc- cessively a few notes of music on the same key and with the same loudness, and yet their voices will be easily dis- tinguished by their different quality.

Certain qualities should be cultivated, others, avoided. Those which should be chiefly cultivated are the Pure, the Orotund, the Aspirated, and the Whispering Tones.

PURE TONE.

A PURE TONE is one that is deep, round, sweet, and clear.

This should form a great portion of most discourse. In cultivating it, let the following faults be carefully cor- rected.

1. A nasal tone, of all tones the most disgusting.

2. A guttural tone, or a kind of obstructed utterance from the throat. This may be occasionally admissible, but is incompatible with purity.

3. An aspirated, or half whispering tone. This has its place in the expression of certain emotions, but when in any degree habitual, destroys purity of tone.

NOTE. — As a great portion of most kinds of style should be spoken in this tone, particular exercises are considered unneces- sary. For special exercises, if such are desired, see pages 54, 81, 147, 148, 159, 239, 240, of this book.

38 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

OROTUND TONE.

The OROTUND TONE combines great volume and strength with purity.

It takes its name from the manner in which it is uttered, viz., ore rotundo, or with a round, widely opened mouth. It is used in impassioned style, and forms the perfection of voice.

Great care should be taken to cultivate this. In prac- ticing, the voice should come from the throat, the mouth should be opened wide, the tongue kept down, the aperture left round and free for the voice, and the vowel sound dwelt upon, as when one shouts "a — ye," or "ship a— hoy," or "f— i— re."

EXERCISE ON THE OROTUND.

It is vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace ! peace ! but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it Al- mighty God. I know not what course others may take ; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.

Sir, before God I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure ; and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready to stake upon it ; and I leave off, as I began, that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment; and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment; — independence now, and independence for- ever.

NOTE. — All the speeches in this book of an emotional character, are exercises in this tone.

ASPIRATED TONE.

The ASPIRATED TONE is a kind of half whisper, or rough breathing.

OF THE VOICE. 39

It is appropriate to the expression of strong aversion, horror, anger, and similar sentiments. It should, therefore, be in the power of the speaker to use it in its place, but its habitual use, in any degree, should be carefully avoided.

EXERCISES ON THE ASPIRATED TONE. Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.

Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence !

Me miserable ! which way shall I fly, Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell! myself am Hell! And in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven!

Hence! from my sight! I hate and I despise thee! Thou standst, at length, before me undisguised, Of all earth's groveling crew the most accursed. Thou worm ! thou viper ! to thy native earth Return ! away ! Thou art too base for man To tread upon. Thou scum ! thou reptile !

For additional exercises, see in this book, pages 144, 145, 297.

THE WHISPERING TONE.

The WHISPER is appropriate to the expression of deep awe, paralyzing fear, or violent emotion of any kind, restrained.

This should be at the command of every speaker for occasional use. Its chief value, however, consists in its forming admirable practice for perfecting the power of articulation, and giving control over the organs of speech and the action of the lungs.

REMARK. — This by most authors is erroneously classi- fied with pitch or quantity. But its sibilant character

40 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

clearly indicates its nature as a quality of voice, and Dr. Rush, in his celebrated work on the "Human Voice," thus classifies it.

EXERCISES IN THE WHISPERING TONE.

In order to derive the full advantage of this kind of exercise, the pupil should practice the whisper with all degrees of force, making his utterance as distinct as pos- sible. He will soon find it easy to whisper so as to be heard at a great distance.

The foe ! they come ! they come !

" Not to myself alone," The streamlet whispers in its pebbly way,

" Not to myself alone I sparkling glide ;

I scatter life and health on every side, And strew the field with herb and floweret gay.

Oft in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chains have bound me, Fond memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit ! come away !

For other suitable examples to practice upon, see this book, pages 144, 145.

REMARKS ON VOICE.

REMARK 1. — The speaker should carefully avoid com- mencing in a high or loud tone. He should adopt one rather under than above a medium pitch and quantity, but should very soon rise into his natural key.

He will find it much easier to elevate than to depress his voice, and he will thus reserve his power for its appropri- ate place.

REMARK 2. — When it is found that the voice has uncon- sciously become too high or too loud, let the speaker imagine himself addressing those near him, until the proper tone is regained. This object will be aided by the use also of the monotone^ if the subject admits it.

GESTURE. 41

REMARK 3. — The importance of practice for the attain- ment of power in the management of the voice can not be overrated. While without it, the highest gifts of nature will accomplish little, with it, very moderate powers may attain almost unlimited excellence.

REMARK 4. — It is very important to efficiency and ease in speaking, that the breath be properly managed. The chest must be thrown out, the head erect, and the lungs well filled. The speaker must have a good supply of breath. He need not wait for the close of a sentence to renew it, but, if necessary, may do this at the pauses.

QUESTIONS. — What things are to be considered with reference to the voice? What is pitch? What are the three divisions of pitch? What is the medium pitch? To what is it appropriate? What does low pitch include ? When is it appropriate ? What does high pitch include? When is it used? In what does compass of voice consist? How may the voice be improved in compass? What is quantity? From what must it be carefully distinguished? To what does time or movement refer? What is quality? What qualities are men- tioned? What is pure tone? What must be avoided in cultivating it? What is the orotund tone? From what does it take its name? In practicing, from whence should the voice come and how should the organs be managed ? What is the aspirated tone ? To what is it appropriate ? To what is the whisper appropriate ? In what does its chief value, as an exercise, consist ? What is the 1st remark on voice? The2d? The 3d? The 4th?

V. GESTURE.

GESTURE includes attitude and action.

ATTITUDE refers to the position of the body and its members : ACTION, to the movement of the same.

Gesture, more than any thing else, is the natural expression of thought and emotion. That which arises spontaneously from genuine feeling, even though ungraceful, is preferable to that which is merely studied and affected, however graceful it may be.

Certain faults, however, should be carefully avoided, and cer- tain graces cultivated. NEW EC. S.— 4

42 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

REMARKS.

REMARK 1. — The pupil must be in earnest, and must fully understand, and really fed what he utters.

There can be no forcible or appropriate gesture without this.

REMARK 2. — The position of the body and feet should be natural and easy.

No audience can feel at ease, unless the speaker is obviously so also. The body should rest upon one foot, the other being thrown back or forward, to be ready for an appropriate change. The position should be changed from one foot to the other, and by moving backward or forward, often enough to give relief to the muscles, and the appearance, as well as reality of ease. This change, however, should never be made for the sake of change.

REMARK 3. — Avoid a continued bobbing and shaking of the head.

This is a very common fault of many otherwise good speakers. It is only necessary to stop the ears and look a moment at the orator, to see how ridiculous an appearance it gives him. Natu- ral and appropriate gesture always speaks for itself, though not a word should be heard.

REMARK 4. — The eyes should be fixed upon the audience.

Half-closed or averted eyes will neutralize every effort to gain attention. The eyes and countenance express more, perhaps, than either gesture or words, and he, who does not use them effectively, will never excite emotion. "j_ .

REMARK 5. — The arms should be moved in curves, and from the shoulder as a center.

This direction forbids a motion of the arms from the elbows merely; sawing them in straight lines, and permitting them to hang by the side, as if paralyzed.

REMARK 6.— The right hand should be most frequently used.

Avoid an exclusive use of either the right or left hand, and also a regular see-sawing from one to the other.

REMARK 7. — The hand should generally be open, with the fingers slightly curved.

Those cases are excepted, in which the sentiment requires a peculiar expression, such as the clinched hand, etc.

GESTURE. 43

REMARK 8. — There should be no gesture without a reason. Extravagant motion weakens emphasis. The tendency is gen- erally to too much gesture.

REMARK 9. — The gesture should be with the utterance of the emphatic word, or if the speaker is much excited, slightly before it.

Gesture, in all cases, should be the pantomimic symbol of the emotion, and should be spontaneously connected with it.

REMARK 10. — Gesture should be forcible, full, and free, so that there can be no mistake as to its meaning.

Feeble attempts at gesture are worse than none at all. The force of what is said is weakened, and the audience is disgusted.

REMARK 11. — No one should be permitted to attempt to commit a piece to memory, until it is certain that he un- derstands it, and can appreciate its sentiment and thought.

The pupil should be permitted to judge of this, to a consider- able extent, for himself. He will speak best what he under- stands and likes.

REMARK 12. — No attempt to speak a piece should be permitted, till it is thoroughly committed.

Unless the mind of the speaker is at ease in this respect, he can do nothing. This rule should be insisted upon.

REMARK 13. — When a speaker is before an audience, he should entirely forget himself.

He should think nothing and know nothing about his position, or gestures, or voice, or emphasis. If he has been well drilled, he will be right in these things.

REMARK 14. — Above all things, let it be remembered, that practice, continued, persevering practice is indispensa- ble to excellence, and that, even under the most unfavor- able circumstances, it will secure astonishing results.

REMARK 15. — The teacher and pupil should avoid all dependence on plates for instruction in gesture.

There can be no greater humbug, (if the word may be allowed,) than plates, illustrating gesture. A distinguished author very correctly remarks, that "they only serve as a subject of ridicule

44 ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

to boys." The teacher, as the living model, and the spontaneous feeling of the speaker, with such hints as have been given and as the teacher may add, may be considered the best guides.

GENERAL REMARK.

The following suggestions are found, in substance, in a work by James Sheridan Knowles, an English author of distinction :

THE HEAD. — Assent is indicated by nodding ; dissent, by toss- ing back ; dislike and horror, by averting ; attention, by leaning forward ; diffidence, by inclining ; pride and courage, by holding it up ; grief and shame, by hanging down.

THE EYES. — Anger is denoted by flashing; prayer, by raising; anxiety, by rolling; thought, by looking on vacancy.

THE ARMS. — Disappointment is denoted by a sudden dropping ; imploring, by stretching forward ; admiration, by extending them spread ; authority, by projecting one forward

THE HANDS. — Prayer and affliction are denoted by clasping; friendship, by holding one forward ; appeal to conscience and desire, by placing on the breast; distress, on the head; shame, on the eyes ; silence, the finger on the lips.

THE BODY. — Courage and firmness are denoted by an erect or advancing body; pride, by throwing it back; aversion and fear, by retiring ; reverence and compassion, by bending forward ; terror, by starting.

QUESTIONS. — What does gesture include? What is attitude? Ac- tion ? What is said of being in earnest ? Of position and its change ? Of shaking the head? Of the eyes? Of the arms? Of the hand? What is the 8th remark? The 9th? The 10th? What is said of selecting a piece? (Rem. 11.) Of committing? Of the speaker's ^elf? Of practice? Of plates? What is the substance of the con- iluding remark?

McGUFFEY'S

NEW

ECLECTIC SPEAKER,

EXERCISE I.— ADVANCE.

GOD bade the Sun with golden step sublime,

Advance ! He whispered in the listening ear of Time,

Advance !

He bade the guiding Spirit of the Stars, With lightning speed, in silver-shining cars, Along the bright floor of his azure hall

Advance! Sun, Stars, and Time obey the voice, and all

Advance !

The river at its bubbling fountain cries,

The clouds proclaim, like heralds, through the skies,

Advance !

Throughout the world, the mighty Master's laws Allow not one brief moment's idle pause. The earth is full of life, the swelling seeds And summer hours, like flowery -harnessed steeds,

Advance !

Unto the soul of man the same voice spoke, From out the chaos thunder-like it broke,

Advance !

Go, track the comet in its wheeling race, * And drag the lightning from its hiding-place; From out the night of ignorance and tears, For love and hope, borne by the coming years,

Advance !

(45)

46 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

All heard, and some obeyed the great command, Ft passed along from listening land to land,

Advance !

I'he strong grew stronger, and the weak grew strong, As passed the war-cry of the world along; Awake, ye nations, know your powers and rights, Through Hope and Work, to Freedom's new delights

Advance !

Knowledge came down, and waved her steady torch, Sages proclaimed, 'neath many a marble porch,

Advance !

As rapid lightning leaps from peak to peak, The Gaul, the Goth, the Roman, and the Greek, The painted Briton, caught the wing-ed word,

Advance ! And earth grew young, and caroled as a bird,

Advance !

II.— ELOQUENCE.— No. I.

Thig extract, and the following one, may be spoken as one piece, or as two.

THE labors requisite to form the public speaker, are, by no means, duly appreciated. An absurd idea prevails among our scholars, that the finest productions of the mind, are the fruits of hasty impulse, the flashings of intuition, or the gleamings of fancy. Genius is often compared to lightning from the cloud, or the sudden bursting out of a secret fountain. And eloquence is regarded as a kind of inspiration. When a man has made a happy effort, he is next possessed with an absurd ambition, to have it thought that it cost him nothing.

Now it is not enough to maintain that nothing could be more injurious to our youth, than this way of thinking. The truth is, that nothing can be more false. The mis- take lies, in confounding with the mere arrangement of thoughts, or the manual labor of putting them on paper, the long previous preparation of mind. It has taken but a few hours, perhaps, to compose an admirable piece of

l

ECLECTIC SERIES. 47

poetry, or a fine speech. But the reflections of years, may have been tending to that result.

To give the noblest thoughts the noblest expression : to stand up in the pure light of reason : to put on all the glories of imagination, as a garment : to penetrate the soul, and to make men conscious of new powers and a new be- ing : to exercise, in the loftiest measure, the only glorious and godlike sway, that over willing minds : to fill the ear, the eye, the inmost soul, with sounds, and images, and holy visions of beauty and grandeur : to make truth and justice lovely and majestic : to charm, to fascinate, to win, to arouse, to calm, to terrify, to overwhelm: this is the work of eloquence; and it is a glorious work.

The great object of all the liberal arts is to exhibit the mind; to exhibit character, thought, feeling, in their vari- ous aspects. In this consist all their power and sublim- ity. For this, the painter spreads upon the dull canvas the breathing forms of life. For this, the sculptor causes the marble to speak. For this, the architect models the fair and majestic structure, with sublimity, beauty, and glory written upon it. For this, the poet builds his lofty rhyme; and the eloquent in music, orders his movement and com- bination of sweet sounds. Eloquence is the combination of all these arts, and it excels them all in their separate powers. Nor is it confined to the mere taste.

The great and ultimate object of social existence, is for man to act on man. And eloquence is the grandest me- dium of this action. It is not only the highest perfec- tion of a human being, (for "the orator must be a good maw,") but it is that perfection in act. It is sublimity, beauty, genius, power, in their most glorious exercise.

III.— ELOQUENCE.— No. II.

IMAGINE to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations de- pended. How awful such a meeting ! how vast the sub- ject ! Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great

48 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

occasion? Adequate! Yes, superior. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator. The importance of the subject, for a while, is superseded by the admiration of his talents.

With what strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions of heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man; and at once captivate his reason, his imagination, and his passions ! To effect this, must be the utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature. Not a faculty that he possesses, is here unemployed. Not a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work. All his external testify their energies. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions, are all busy. Without, every muscle, every nerve is exerted. Not a feature, not a limb, but speaks.

The organs of the body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred organs of the hearers, instanta- neously vibrate those energies from soul to soul. Not- withstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude, "by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one mass. The whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way, becomes, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice. The universal cry is : LET us MARCH AGAINST PHILIP ; LET us FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES ; LET us CON- QUER, OR DIE !

IV.— DENUNCIATION OF CATILINE.

CATILINE, a Roman Senator, had conspired with others to subvert the Republic, and to assassinate Cicero the Consul and other distin- guished men. By the exertions and eloquence of Cicero, the plot was defeated and Catiline banished.

How far, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience? How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? To what extreme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch? Nothing, by the city guards? Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens?

ECLECTIC SERIES. 49

Nothing, by the assembling of the Senate in this fortified place ? Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou not that all thy plots are exposed ? that thy wretched conspiracy is laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the Senate? that we are well aware of thy pro- ceedings of last night ; of the night before ; the place of meeting, the company convoked, the measures concerted?

Alas, the times ! Alas, the public morals ! The Senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the traitor lives! Lives? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in coun- cil ; takes part in our deliberations ; and, with his meas- uring eye, marks out each man of us for slaughter ! And we, all this while, think we have amply discharged our duty to the State, if we but shun this madman's sword and fury !

Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to have ordered thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head the ruin thou hast been meditating against others ! There was that virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held more execrable, than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Catiline, for thee. Think not that we are power- less, because forbearing. "We have a decree, — though it rests among our archives like a sword in its scabbard, — a decree, by which thy life would be made to pay the forfeit of thy crimes.

And should I order thee to be instantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt whether all good men would not think it done rather too late, than any man too cruelly. But, for good reasons, I will yet defer the blow long since deserved. Then will I doom thee, when no man is found, so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess that it was justly dealt. While there is one man that dares defend thee, live ! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded, so scrutinized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic, without my knowledge. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightest movement, and ears to catch thy wariest whisper, of which thou shalt not dream. The darkness of night shall not cover thy treason ; the walls NEW Eo. S.— 5

50 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Proceed, plot, conspire as thou wilt. There is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose, nothing you can attempt, which I shall not know, hear, and promptly understand.

FROM CICERO.

V.— CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. PLE-BE-IAN, (ple-be'-yan,) refers to Cicero, the Consul.

CONSCRIPT FATHERS!

I do not rise to waste the night in words; Let that Plebeian talk , 't is not my trade ; But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs, — For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there ! Cling to your masters, judges, Romans, slaves! His charge is false. I dare him to his proofs. You have my answer. Let my actions speak.

But this I will avow, that I have scorned, And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong ! Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts The gates of honor on me ; turning out The Roman from his birthright; and, for what?

To fling your offices to every slave ! Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb, And, having wound their loathsome track to the top, Of this huge, moldering monument of Rome, Hang hissing at the nobler man below ! Come, consecrated Lictors, from your thrones; Fling down your scepters; take the rod and ax, And make the murder as you make the law!

Banished from Rome ! What 's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe ? "Tried and convicted traitor!" Who says this? Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? Banished! I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain! I held some slack allegiance till this hour; But now my sword 's my own.

ECLECTIC SERIES. 51

Smile on, my lords!

I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, V /^ To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you ! here, I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face ! Your Consul 's merciful. For this all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline !

"Traitor!" I go; but, I return. This— trial! Here I devote your Senate ! Look to your hearths, my lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ! all shames and crimes ! Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and ax, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.

I go ; but not to leap the gulf alone. I go ; but, when I come, 't will be the burst Of ocean in the earthquake ; rolling back In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well ! You build my funeral-pile ; but your best blood Shall quench its flame! FROM CROLY.

VI.— EXPULSION OF CATILINE.

AT length, Romans, we are rid of Catiline! We have driven him forth, drunk with fury, breathing mischief, threatening to revisit us with fire and sword. He is gone. He is fled. He has escaped. He has broken away. No longer, within the very walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We have forced him from secret plots into open rebellion. The bad citizen is now the avowed traitor. His flight is the confession of his treason. Would that his attendants had not been so few.

Be speedy, ye companions of his dissolute pleasures. Be speedy, and you may overtake him before night, on the Aurelian road. Let him not languish, deprived of

52 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

your society. Haste to join the congenial crew that com- pose his army ; 7m army, I say, for who doubts that the army under Manlius expect Catiline for their leader? And such an army ! Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from debt; gamblers and felons; miscreants, whose dreams are of rapine, murder, and conflagration !

Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare, O Romans, your garrisons and armies. And first, to that maimed and battered gladiator, oppose your Consuls and Generals. Next, against that miserable, outcast horde, lead forth the strength and flower of all Italy ! On the one side chastity contends; on the other, wantonness: here purity, there pollution : here integrity, there treach- ery : here piety, there profaneness : here constancy, there rage : here honesty, there baseness : in short, equity, tem- perance, fortitude, prudence, struggle with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness : every virtue with every vice : and, lastly, the contest lies between well-grounded hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict, were even human aid to fail, would not the immortal gods empower such con- spicuous virtue to triumph over such complicated vice?

FROM CICERO.

VII.— POWER OF A FREE PEOPLE.

IN the efforts of the people; of the people struggling for their rights; moving, not in organized, disciplined masses, but in their spontaneous action, man for man, and heart for heart; there is something glorious. They can then move forward without orders, act together without combination, and brave the flaming lines of battle without intrenchments to cover or walls to shield them. No dissolute camp has Worn off from the feelings of the youthful soldier the fresh- ness of that home, where his mother and his sisters sit waiting, with tearful eyes and aching hearts, to hear good news from the wars. No long service in the ranks of a conqueror has turned the veteran's heart into marble. Their valor springs not from recklessness, from habit, from indifference to the preservation of a life, knit by no

ECLECTIC SERIES. 53

pledges to the life of others. In the strength and spirit of the CAUSE alone, they act, they contend, they bleed. In this they conquer.

The people always conquer. They always must conquer. Armies may be defeated, kings may be overthrown, and new dynasties imposed, by foreign arms, on an ignorant and slavish race, that care not in what language the cov- enant of their subjection runs, nor in whose name the deed of their barter and sale is made out. But the people never invade. "When they rise against the invader, they are never subdued. If they are driven from the plains, they fly to the mountains. Steep rocks and everlasting hills are their castles; the tangled, pathless thicket, their palisado; and nature, God, is their ally!

Now, He overwhelms the hosts of their enemies beneath his drifting mountains of sand. Now, He buries them be- neath a falling atmosphere of polar snows. He lets loose His tempests on their fleets. He puts a folly into their counsels, a madness into the hearts of their leaders. He never gave, and never will give, a final triumph over a virtuous and gallant people, resolved to be free.

" For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won."

FROM EVERETT.

VIII.— TRUE HONOR OF A NATION.

THE great distinction of a Nation, the only one worth possessing', and which brings after it all other blessings, is the prevalence of pure principle among the citizens. I wish to belong to a state in the character and institutions of which I may find a spring of improvement, of which I can speak with an honest pride ; in whose records I may meet great and honored names, and which is fast making the world its debtor by its discoveries of truth, and by an example of virtuous freedom.

O, save me from a country which worships wealth, and cares not for true glory : in which intrigue bears rule : in

54 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

which patriotism borrows its zeal from the prospect of office : in which hungry sycophants throng with supplica- tion all the departments of state: in which public men bear the brand of private vice, and the seat of government is a noisome sink of private licentiousness and public cor- ruption.

Tell me not of the honor of belonging to a free country. I ask, does our liberty bear generous fruits? Does it exalt us in manly spirit, in public virtue, above countries trod- den under foot by despotism? Tell me not of the extent of our country. I care not how large it is, if it multiply degenerate men. Speak not of o'ur prosperity. Better be one of a poor people, plain in manners, reverencing God, and respecting themselves, than belong to a rich country, which knows no higher good than riches.

Earnestly do I desire for this country, that, instead of copying Europe with an undiscerning servility, it may have a character of its own, corresponding to the freedom and equality of our institutions. One Europe is enough. One Paris is enough. How much to be desired is it, that, separated, as we are, from the Eastern continent, by an ocean, we should be still more widely separated by sim- plicity of manners, by domestic purity, by inward piety, by reverence for human nature, by moral independence, by withstanding the subjection to fashion, and that debili- tating sensuality, which characterize the most civilized portions of the Old World! Of this country, I may say, with peculiar emphasis, that its happiness is bound up in its virtue!

IX.— VISION OF LIBERTY.

A VISION passed upon my soul. As I was gazing up to heaven, As in the early hours of even; I still beheld the planets roll, And all the countless sons of light Flame from the broad blue arch, and guide the moonless night.

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When, lo, upon the plain, Just where it skirts the swelling main, A massive castle, far and high, In towering grandeur broke upon my eye. Proud in its strength and years, the ponderous pile

Flung up its time-defying towers; Its lofty gates seemed scornfully to smile At vain assault of human powers,

And threats and arms deride. Its gorgeous carvings of heraldic pride In giant masses graced the walls above,

And dungeons yawned below. Yet ivy there and moss their garlands wove, Grave, silent chroniclers of Time's protracted flow.

Bursting on my steadfast gaze,

See, within, a sudden blaze! So small at first, the zephyr's slightest swell,

That scarcely stirs the pine-tree top,

Nor makes the withered leaf to drop, The feeble fluttering of that flame would quell

But soon it spread; Waving, rushing, fierce, and red, From wall to wall, from tower to tower. Raging with resistless power; Till every fervent pillar glowed,

And every stone seemed burning coal, Instinct with living heat, that flowed

Like streaming radiance from the kindled pole.

Beautiful, fearful, grand, Silent as death, I saw the fabric stand. At length a crackling sound began; From side to side, throughout the pile it ran;

And louder yet, and louder grew, Till now in rattling thunder-peals it flew; Huge shivered fragments from the pillars broke, Like fiery sparkles from the anvil's stroke: The shattered walls were rent and riven,

And piecemeal driven,

Like blazing comets through the troubled sky. 'T is done; what centuries had reared, In quick explosion disappeared, Nor even its ruins met my wondering eye.

56 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

But in their place, Bright with more than human grace,

Robed in more than mortal seeming, Radiant glory in her face,

And eyes with heaven's own brightness beaming, Rose a fair majestic form, As the mild rainbow from the storm.

J marked her smile, 1 knew her eye;

And when, with gesture of command,

She waved aloft the cap-crowned wand, My slumbers fled 'mid shouts of "LIBERTY!"

Read ye the dream ? and know ye not How truly it unlocked the word of fate?

Went not the flame from this illustrious spot, And spreads it not, and burns in every state? And when their old and cumbrous walls, Filled with this spirit, glow intense, Vainly they rear their impotent defense ;

The fabric falls!

That fervent energy must spread, Till despotism's towers be overthrown; And in their stead, LIBERTY stands alone.

X.— THE GREEK WARRIOR.

OUR free flag is dancing

In the free mountain air, And burnished arms are glancing,

And warriors gathering there; And fearless is the little train

Whose gallant bosoms shield it; The blood that warms their hearts shall stain

That banner, ere they yield it. Each dark eye is fixed on earth,

And brief each solemn greeting; There is no look nor sound of mirth,

Where those stern men are meeting.

They go to the slaughter,

To strike the sudden blow, And pour on earth, like water,

The best blood of the foe;

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To rush on them from rock and hight,

And clear the narrow valley, Or fire their camp at dead of night,

And fly before they rally. Chains are round our country pressed,

And cowards have betrayed her; And we must make her bleeding breast

The grave of the invader.

Not till from her fetters

We raise up Greece again, And write, in bloody letters,

That tyranny is slain; Oh! not till then the smile shall steal

Across those darkened faces, Nor one of all those warriors feel

His children's dear embraces. Reap we not the ripened wheat,

Till yonder hosts are flying, And all their bravest, at our feet,

Like autumn sheaves are lying. FROM BRYANT.

XL— MUSIC OF INDUSTRY.

THE banging of the hammer,

The whirling of the plane, The crashing of the busy saw,

The creaking of the crane, The ringing of the anvil.

The grating of the drill, The clattering of the turning-latho,

The whirling of the mill, The buzzing of the spindle,

The rattling of the loom, The puffing of the engine,

The fan's continual boom, The clipping of the tailor's shears,

The driving of the awl; The sounds of honest Industry,

I love, I love them all.

The clicking of the magic type, The earnest talk of men,

53 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

The toiling of the giant press,

The scratching of the pen, The tapping of the yard-stick,

The tinkling of the scales, The whistling of the needle,

(When no bright cheek it pales,) The humming of the cooking-stove,

The surging of the broom, The pattering feet of childhood,

The housewife's busy hum, The buzzing of the scholars,

The teacher's kindly call: These sounds of active Industry,

I love, I love them all.

I love the plowman's whistle,

The reaper's cheerful song, The drover's oft-repeated shout,

Spurring his stock along; The bustle of the market man

As he hies him to the town; The halloo from the tree-top

As the ripened fruit comes down; The busy sound of thrashers

As they clean the ripened grain; The husker's joke and catch of glee

'Neath the moonlight on the plain; The kind voice of the drayman,

The shepherd's gentle call: These sounds of pleasant Industry,

I love, I love them all.

Oh, there 's a good in labor,

If we labor but aright, That gives vigor to the daytime,

A sweeter sleep at night; A good that bringeth pleasure,

Even to the toiling hours; For duty cheers the spirit,

As dew revives the flowers.

Then say not that Jehovah Gave labor as a doom;

No! 't is the richest mercy From the cradle to the tomb.

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Then let us still be doing

What e'er we find to do, With a cheerful, hopeful spirit,

And free hand, strong and true.

XII.— AAEON BURR.

IF Blennerhassett had been the only person ruined by Burr, charity would suggest a burial of our remembrance of the exile's desolation. But the victims of Burr are to be numbered by hundreds. He cherished no friendship. He returned unhonored the drafts of gratitude.

He courted the statesman, to profit by his influence, the millionaire, to obtain his money, and the world, to gratify his desires. He was the more dangerous from the posses- sion of an intellect, massive, piercing, and brilliant, united to a form, at once handsome and vigorous. His mind was but the keen weapon with which he hewed a path to con- quest. That weapon was Protean. If the victim fully came under the gaze of an eye whose sharp light resembled light- ning, imprisoned and forever playing in a cloud black as death, he was forever lost.

Burr's conversation was irresistibly fascinating, for his hands swept every chord of the human heart. He strewed the rosy paths of the happy with flowers of a still brighter hue. He arched the troubled sky of the desponding with the rainbow of hope. He conjured up before the rapt vision of the avaricious, golden Golcondas; and to the aspiring, he pointed out the illuminated vistas of glory.

Thus he stood: gifted and unprincipled; ruthless and terrible. The want of great fortune, alone, prevented his presenting, in one vast Alpine mass, that EVIL which he accomplished, but too successfully, in many details. Chance confined to valleys, comparatively humble, the stupendous glaciers which only needed the rays of the sun of fortune to devastate continents.

It may be asked: "Is not his valor on the battlefields of his country to be remembered?" Yes! That was a redeeming thing. No matter from what motive his mill-

GO MCQUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

tary talents were exercised, our land reaped some benefit. But \ve are forced to doubt the patriotism of one who was so ready to forswear his allegiance; who trampled on so much that men hold sacred, and who regarded his exploits against royal tyranny, less glorious than the moral destruc- tion of a human being.

Age is expected to subdue. But with Burr, the winter of time brought no snow to cool the lava of passion. At fourscore-and-six, the crater wore a glow as ardent as at twenty. His faculties mocked at a century. Age should bring the soothing calm of religion, to prepare the tem- pest-tost bark for its entrance into another and final sea. Burr died as he had lived, a practical Atheist. Age should bring respect. Burr expired as he had existed, without the regard of the good. His hoary hairs went down to the grave, floating on the breeze of infamy.

In cunning, an lago; in patience, a Catiline ; in pleasure, a Sybarite; in gratitude, a Malay; and in ambition, a Na- poleon, he affords the world an awful example of powerful intellect, destitute of virtue. His virtue would fitly appear in a circle of Dante's Inferno. Let no one accuse the speaker of stepping with sandaled feet through the solemn sepulcher. Aaron Burr belongs to History. SUCH WAS

THE LOT HE CHOSE.

XIII.— DEATH OF HAMILTON— No. I.

HAMILTON, a distinguished American statesman, -was killed in 1804, in a duel, into which he was forced by Aaron Burr, his polit- ical enemy.

HAMILTON was born to be great. Whoever was second, he must be first. To his stupendous and versatile mind no investigation was difficult. There was no subject, which he did not illuminate. Superiority in some particular, belongs to thousands. Pre-eminence, in whatever he chose to un- dertake, was the prerogative of Hamilton. No fixed crite- rion could be applied to his talents. Often has their dis- play been supposed to have reached the limit of human

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effort; and the judgment stood firm till set aside by him- self.

When a cause of new magnitude required new exertions, he rose, he towered, he soared ; surpassing himself as he surpassed others. Then was nature tributary to his elo- quence ! Then was felt his despotism over the heart ! Touching, at his pleasure, every string of pity or terror, of indignation or grief, he melted, he soothed, he roused, he agitated ; alternately gentle as the dews, and awful as the thunder. Yet, great as he was in the eyes of the world, he was greater in the eyes of those with whom he was most conversant.

The greatness of most men, like objects seen through a mist, diminishes with the distance. But Hamilton, like a tower seen afar off under a clear sky, rose in grandeur and sublimity with every step of approach. Familiarity with him was the parent of veneration. Over these matchless talents, probity threw her brightest luster. Frankness, suavity, tenderness, benevolence, breathed through their exercise. But he is gone. That noble heart beats no more : that eye of fire is dimmed ; and sealed are those ora- cular lips. Americans, the serenest beam of your glory is extinguished in the tomb !

The death of Hamilton is no common affliction. The loss of distinguished men is, at all times, a calamity. But the loss of such a man, at such a time, and in the very meridian of his usefulness, is singularly portentous. When Washington was taken, Hamilton was left. But Hamilton is taken, and we have no Washington. We have no such other man to die ! Washington and Hamilton in five years! Bereaved America ! FROM MASON.

XIV.— DEATH OF HAMILTON.— No. H.

THE grave of Hamilton speaks. It charges me to remind you that he fell a victim, not to disease or accident, not to the fortune of a glorious warfare ; but— how shall I utter it? — to a custom which has no origin but superstition, no

62 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

aliment but depravity, no reason but in madness. Alas ! that he should thus expose his precious life. This was his error! A thousand bursting hearts reiterate this. This was his error! Shall I apologize? I am forbidden by his living protestations, by his dying regrets, by his wasted blood. Shall a solitary act, into which he was betrayed and dragged, have the authority of a precedent? The plea is precluded by the long decisions of his understanding, by the principles of his conscience, and by the reluctance of his death.

Ah! when will our morals be purified, and our imagi- nary honor cease to cover the most pestilent of human pas- sions ? Is it honor to enjoy the esteem of the wise and the good? The wise and the good turn with disgust from the man who lawlessly aims at his neighbor's life. Is it hon- orable to serve your country? The man cruelly injures her, who, from private pique, calls his fellow citizen into the dubious field. Are generosity, humanity, sympathy, honorable? That man is superlatively base, who mingles the tears of the widow and orphan with the blood of a husband and a father.

Do refinement, and courtesy, and benignity, entwine with the laurels of the brave ? The blot is yet to be wiped from his name, who can not treat his brother with the decorum of a gentleman, unless the pistol or the dagger be every moment at his heart. Let the votaries of honor now look at their deeds. Let them compare their doctrine with this horrible comment. Ah! what avails it to a distracted nation, that Hamilton was murdered for a punctilio of honor ?

My flesh shivers ! Is this, indeed, our state of society? Are transcendent worth and talent to be a capital indict- ment before the tribunal of ambition? Is the angel of death to record, for sanguinary retribution, every word which the collision of political opinion may extort from a political man ? Are integrity and candor to be at the mercy of the assassin, and systematic crime to trample under foot, or smite into the grave, all that is yet venerable in our humble land?

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My countrymen, the land is defiled with blood unright- eously shed ! Its cry, disregarded on earth, has gone up to the throne of God, and this day does our punishment reveal our sin ! 'T is time for us to awake ! The voice of moral virtue, the voice of domestic alarm, the voice of the fatherless and widow, the voice of a nation's wrong, the voice of Hamilton's blood, the voice of impending judg- ment, call for a remedy. FROM MASON.

XV.— THE GAMBLER'S WIFE.

DARK is the night. How dark ! No light ! No fire ! Cold on the hearth the last faint sparks expire! Shivering, she watches by the cradle side, For him who pledged her love ; last year a bride !

''Hark! 'T is his footstep ! No! 'T is past! 'T is gone !" Tick ! Tick ! " How wearily the time crawls on ! Why should he leave me thus? He once was kind! And I believed 't would last ! How mad ! How blind !

" Rest thee, my babe ! Rest on ! 'T is hunger's cry ! Sleep ! For there is no food ! The fount is dry ! Famine and cold their wearying work have done; My heart must break! And thou!" The clock strikes one.

"Hush! 't is the dice-box! Yes, he 's there! he 's there! For this, for this, he leaves me to despair! Leaves love, leaves truth, his wife, his child, for what? The wanton's smile, the villain, and the sot!

" Yet I '11 not curse him. No ! 'T is all in vain I

'T is long to wait, but sure he '11 come again!

And I could starve, and bless him, but for you,

My child ! My child ! Oh fiend !" The clock strikes two.

"Hark! How the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by. Moan ! moan ! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky ! Ha ! 'T is his knock ! He comes, he comes once more !" 'T is but the lattice flaps! Thy hope is o'er!

" Can he desert us thus ? He knows I stay, Night after night, in loneliness, to pray For his return ; and yet he sees no tear ! No ! No ! It can not be ! He will be here !

64 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

"Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart!

Thou 'rt cold! Thou 'rt freezing! But we will not part!

Husband ! I die ! Father ! It is not he !

Oh, God! protect my child!" The clock strikes three.

They're gone, they're gone! The glimmering spark hath fledl The wife and child are numbered with the dead. The gambler came at last; but all was o'er; Dread silence reigned around. The clock struck four.

FROM COAXES.

XVI.— LOOK ALOFT.

IN the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 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.

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe^1 Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed; "Look aloft," to the friendship which never shall fade.

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.

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart; Thy relations and friends, in sorrow depart; " Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where affection is ever in bloom.

And O, when Death comes in terrors, to cast

His fears on the future, his pall on the past;

In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,

And a smile in thine eye, " look aloft," and depart

XVII.— THE DUEL.— SCENE I.

(Enter Sir Lucius O Trigger and Acres.) Sir Lucius. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to see you. Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. Sir L. Pray, ray friend, what has brought you so sud- denly to Bath?

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Acres. Faith, I have followed Cupid's jack-o'-lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last! In short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. I do n't choose to mention names, but look on me as a very ill-used gentleman.

Sir L. Pray, what is the cause? I ask no names.

Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius. I fall as deep as need be, in love with a young lady ; her friends take my part ; I follow her to Bath ; send word of my arrival ; and receive answer, that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of. This, Sir Lucius, I call being ill-used.

Sir L. Very ill, upon my conscience ! Pray, can you divine the cause of it?

Acres. Why, there 's the matter. She has another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath. He must be at the bottom of it.

Sir L. A rival in the case, is there ? And you think he has supplanted you unfairly?

Acres. Unfairly ! To be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly.

Sir L. Then sure you know what is to be done ?

Acres. Not I, upon my soul !

Sir L. We wear no swords here, but you understand me?

Acres. What ! fight ,him ?

Sir L. Ay, to be sure. What can I mean else ?

Acres. But he has given me no provocation.

Sir L. Now, I think he has given you the greatest pro- vocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offense against another, than to fall in love with the same woman ? Upon my word, it is the most unpardonable breach of friendship.

Acres. Breach of friendship ! Ay, ay. But I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in all my life.

Sir L. That 's no argument at all ; he has the less right, then, to take such a liberty.

Acres. That 's true. I grow full of anger, Sir Lucius ! I fire apace. Hilts and blades ! I find a man may have a deal of valor in him, and not know it! But. could n't I contrive to have a little right on my side? NEW EC. S.— 6

66 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

- Sir L. What signifies right, when your honor is con- cerned ? Do you think Achilles, or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay ? No, by my word, they drew their broadswords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it.

Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart ! I believe courage must be catching ! I certainly do feel a kind of valor arising, as it were ; a kind of courage, as I may say. Flints, pans, and triggers ! I '11 challenge him directly.

Sir L. Ah, my friend ! if we had Blunderbuss Hall here, I could show you a range of ancestry, in the O'Trig- ger line, that would furnish the New Room. For, though the Mansion House and dirty acres have slipped tbrough my fingers, I thank heaven, our honor and the family pic- tures are as fresh as ever.

Acres, Oh, Sir Lucius, I have had ancestors, too ! Every man of them colonel or captain in the militia ! Balls and barrels ! say no more. I 'm braced for it. The thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kind- ness in my breast! Zounds! as the man in the play says, "I could do such deeds" —

Sir L. Come, come, there must be no passion at all in the case. These things should always be done civilly.

Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius. I must be in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me. Come, here 's pen and paper. (Sits.) I would the ink were red ! Indite, I say, indite ! How shall I begin ? Odds bullets and blades ! I '11 write a good bold hand, however.

Sir L. Pray, compose yourself. (Sits down.)

Acres. Come, now, shall I begin with an oath? Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with an oath !

Sir L. Pho ! pho ! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now — "Sir,"—

Acres. That 's too civil, by half.

Sir L. "To prevent the confusion that might arise" —

Acres. Well.

Sir L. " From our both addressing the same lady " —

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Acres. Ay — "both addressing the same lady" — there 's the reason — " same lady." Well.

Sir L. "I shall expect the honor of your company" —

Acres. Why, I 'm not asking him to dinner !

Sir L. Pray, be easy.

Acres. Well, then, " honor of your company." Does company begin with a C or a K?

Sir L. "To settle our pretensions" —

Acres. Well.

Sir L. Let me see — ay, King's Mead-fields will do — "in King's Mead-fields." .

Acres. So, that 's done. Well, I '11 fold it up at once. My own crest, a hand and dagger, shall be the seal.

Sir L. You see, now, this little explanation will put a stop, at once, to all cpufusion or misunderstanding that might arise between you.

Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderstanding.

Sir L. Now, I '11 leave you to fix your own time. Take my advice, and you '11 decide it this evening, if you can. Then, let the worst come of it, 't will be off your mind "to- morrow.

Acres. Very true.

Sir L. So I shall see nothing more of you, unless it be by letter, till the evening. I would do myself the honor to carry your message ; but, to tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such an other affair on my own hands. There is a gay captain here who put a jest on me lately at the expense of my country, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman, to call him out.

Acres. By my valor, I should like to see you fight first ! Odds life, I should like to see you kill him, if it was only to get a little lesson !

Sir L. I shall be very proud of instructing you. Re- member now, when you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and agreeable manner. Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time as polished as your sword. (Exeunt.} FIJOM SHERIDAN.

68 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

XVIII.— THE DUEL.— SCENE II.

(Enter Acres and his servant David.)

David. Then, indeed, sir, I would do no such thing ! ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom should make me fight, when I was n't so minded. What will the old lady say, when she hears on 't?

Acres. But my honor, David, my honor! I must be very careful of my honor.

Dav. Ay, and I would be very careful of it, and I think in return, my honor could n't do less than to be veryjjiare- ful of me.

Acres. David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honor!

Dav. I say, then, it would be but civil in honor never to risk the loss of a gentleman. Look ye, master, this honor seems to me to be a marvelous false friend ; ay, truly, a very courtier-like servant. Put the case. I was a gentleman, (which, thank heaven, no one can say of me ;) well, my honor makes me quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance. So, we fight. (Pleasant enough that.) Boh ! I kill him — (the more 's my luck.) Now, pray, who gets the profit of it? Why, my honor. But put the case, that he kills me ! I go to the worms, and my honor whips over to my enemy.

Acres. No, David, in that case, your honor follows you to the grave !

Dav. Now, that's just the place where I could make a shift to do without it.

Acres. David, you are a coward ! It does n't become my valor to listen to you. What, shall I disgrace my an- cestors? Think of that, David; think what it would be to disgrace my ancestors !

Dav. Under favor, the surest way of not disgracing them, is to keep as long as you can out of their company. Look ye, now, master; to go to them in such haste, with an ounce of lead in your brains, I should think it might as well be let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of

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folks ; but they are the last people I should choose to have a visiting acquaintance with.

Acres. But, David, now, you do n't think there is such very — very — great danger, hey ? People often fight without any mischief done !

Dav. I think 't is ten to one against you ! To meet some lion^headed fellow, I warrant, with his villainous double-barreled swords and cut-and-thrust pistols ! It makes me tremble to think on 't ; those be such desperate, bloody-minded weapons ! Well, I never could abide them. From a child I never could fancy them. I suppose there aint been so merciless a beast in the world, as your loaded pistol.

Acres. Hush! I won't be afraid! You shan't make me afraid. Here is the challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend, Jack Absolute, to carry it for me.

Dav. Ay, in the name of mischief, let him be the mes- senger. For my part, I would n't lend a hand to it, for the best horse in your stable. It do n't look like another let- ter ! It is, as I may say, a designing and malicious-look- ing letter! and I warrant smells of gunpowder, like a sol- dier's pouch ! I would n't swear it mayn't go off!

Acres. Out, you poltroon ! You have n't the valor of a grasshopper.

Dav. AVell, I say no more. 'T will be sad news, to be sure, at Clod Hall! but I ha' done. How Phyllis will howl when she hears of it ! Ay, poor thing, she little thinks what shooting her master 's going after! And I warrant old Crop, who has carried your honor, field and road, these ten years, will curse the hour he was born ! ( Whimpering.}

Acres. It won't do, David; I am determined to fight, so get along, you coward, while I 'm in the mind. (Exeunt?)

FEOM SHERIDAN.

-'

-,

70 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

XIX.— THE DUEL.— SCENE III.

(Enter Sir Lucius and Acres, with pistols.)

Acres. By my valor, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. I say it is good distance.

Sir L. It is, for muskets, or small fieldpieces. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave these things to me. Stay, now, I '11 show you. (^Measures paces along the stage.) There, now, that is a very pretty distance ; a pretty gentleman's distance. J

Acres. Why, we might as well fight in a sentry-box ! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir L. Faith, then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all, if he were out of sight !

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty, or eight-and-thirty yards —

Sir L. Pho ! pho ! nonsense ! three or four feet be- tween the mouths of your pistols, is as good as a mile.

Acres. Bullets, no ! by my valor, there is no merit in killing him so near ! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot ; a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me !

Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. But tell me, now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius, but I do n't understand —

Sir L. Why, you may think there 's no being shot at without a little risk; and, if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it, I say it will be no time then to be both- ering you about family matters.

Acres. A quietus !

Sir L. For instance, now, if that should be the case, would you choose to be pickled and sent home ? Or would it be the same thing to you, to lie here in the Abbey? I 'm told there 's very snug lying in the Abbey.

Acres. Pickled? snug lying in the Abbey? Odds trem- ors! Sir Lucius, do n't talk so !

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Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir L. Ah, that 's a pity. There 's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres. I 've practiced that ; there, Sir Lucius, there. (Puts himself into an attitude.} A side-front, hey ? I '11 make myself small enough. I '11 stand edgeways.

tSir L, Now, you 're quite out ; for, if you stand so when I take my aim — (Leveling at him.}

Acres. Stop, Sir Lucius! are you sure it is not cocked?

Sir L. Never fear.

Acres. But, but, you do n't know, it may go off of its own head !

Sir L. Pho ! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance; for if it misses a vital part on your right side, 't will be very hard if it do n't succeed on the left.

Acres. A vital part !

Sir L. But there, fix yourself so ; (placing him) — let him see the broadside of your full front ; there ! now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all.

Acres. Clean through me ! a ball or two clean through me !

Sir L. Ay, may they : and it is much the genteelest attitude, into the bargain.

Acres. Look ye, Sir Lucius, I 'd just as lief be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one ; so, by my valor ! I will stand edgeways.

Sir L. (Looking at his watch.) Sure, they do n't mean to disappoint us: ha! no, faith, I think I see them coming.

Acres. Hey! what! coming?

Sir L. Ay, who are those yonder, getting over the stile?

Acres. There are two of them, indeed! Well, let them some, hey, Sir Lucius ! We — we — we — we — wont run !

Sir L. Run !

Acres. No, I say; we wont run, by my valor!

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Sir L. Why, what the plague 's the matter with you?

Acres. Nothing — nothing — my dear friend — my dear Sir Lucius — but — I — I — I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as 1 did.

Sir L. 0, fie ! consider your honor.

Acres. Ay, true ; my honor ! do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two, every now and then, about my honor. /

Sir L. Well, here they 're coming. (Looking.*)

Acres. Sir Lucius, if I was n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid — if my valor should leave me ! — valor will come and go.

Sir L. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it.

Acres. Sir Lucius, I think it is going : yes, my valor is certainly going ! it is sneaking off: I feel it oozing out, as it were, at the palms of my hands !

Sir L. Your honor — your honor. Here they are. We must go and meet them.

Acres. Oh ! that I was safe at home ! (Exeunt.')

FROM SHERIDAN.

XX.— HAYNE ON WEBSTER.

THE honorable gentleman from Massachusetts, after deliberating a whole night upon his course, comes into this chamber to vindicate New England. Instead, how- ever, of making up his issue with the gentleman from Missouri, on the charges which he had preferred, he chooses to consider me as the author of those charges. Losing sight entirely of that gentleman, he selects me as his ad- versary, and pours out all the vials of his mighty wrath upon my devoted head. Nor is he willing to stop there. He goes on to assail the institutions and policy of the South. He calls in question the principles and conduct of the State, which I have the honor to represent.

When I find a gentleman of mature age and experience, of acknowledged talents, and profound sagacity, pursuing a course like this, declining the contest offered from th6 West, and making war upon the unoffending South, I must

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believe, I am bound to believe, he has some object in view, which he has not ventured to disclose. Mr. President, why is this? Has the gentleman discovered, in former controversies with the gentleman from Missouri, that he is overmatched by that senator? And does he hope for an easy victory over a more feeble adversary?

Has the gentleman's distempered fancy been disturbed by gloomy forebodings of "new alliances to be formed," at which he hinted? Has the ghost of the murdered Coalition come back, like the ghost of Banquo, to "sear the eye-balls of the gentleman," and will it not "down at his bidding?" Are dark visions of broken hopes, and honors lost forever, still floating before his heated imagination? If it be his object to thrust me between the gentleman from Missouri and himself, in order to rescue the East from the contest it has provoked with the West, he shall not be gratified.

I will not be dragged into the defense of my friend from Missouri. The South shall not be forced into a conflict not its own. The gentleman from Missouri is able to fight his own battles. The gallant West needs no aid from the South, to repel any attack which may be made on them from any quarter. Let the gentleman from Massachusetts con- trovert the facts and arguments of the gentleman from Missouri, if he can. If he win the victory, let him wear the honors. I shall not deprive him of his laurels.

XXI.— WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYNK— No. 1.

Tins and the four following pieces form a consecutive extract from Webster's celebrated reply to Senator Hayne, of S. Carolina. Each may be spoken independently, or any number, or all of them, may be spoken together.

THE gentleman told the senate, with the emphasis of his hand upon his heart, that there was something rankling here, which he wished to relieve. In this respect, I have a great advantage over the honorable gentleman. There is nothing Vtcre, sir, which gives me the slightest uneasiness. NEW EC. S.— 7

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There is neither fear, nor anger, nor that which is some- times more troublesome than either, the consciousness of having been in the wrong. There is nothing, either origi- nating here, or now received here by the gentleman's shot. I had not the slightest feeling of disrespect or unkindness toward the honorable member.

Some passages, it is true, had occurred since our acquaint- ance in this body, which I could have wished might have been otherwise. But I had used philosophy and forgotten them. When the honorable member rose in his first speech, I paid him the respect of attentive listening. When he sat down, though surprised, and I must say even astonished, at some of his opinions, nothing was farther from my intention than to commence any personal warfare.

Through the whole of the few remarks I made in answer, I avoided, studiously and carefully, every thing which I thought possible to be construed into disrespect. And, while there is thus nothing originating here which I wished at any time, or now wish, to discharge, I must repeat, also, that nothing has been received here which rankles, or in any way gives me annoyance. I will not accuse the hono- rable member of violating the rules of civilized war. I will not say that he poisoned his arrows. But whether his shafts were, or were not, dipped in that which would have caused rankling if they had reached, there was not, as it happened, quite strength enough in the bow to bring them to their mark. If he wishes now to gather up those shafts, he must look for them elsewhere. They will not be found fixed and quivering in the object at which they were aimed.

XXII.— WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYNE.— No. II

THE honorable member complained that I had slept on his speech. I must have slept on it, or not slept at all. The moment the honorable member sat down, his friend from Missouri rose, and, with much honeyed commendation of the speech, suggested that the impressions which it had produced were too charming and delightful to be disturbed

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by other sentiments or other sounds, and proposed that the senate should adjourn.

Would it have been quite amiable in me, to interrupt this excellent good feeling? Must I not have been abso- lutely malicious, if I could have thrust myself forward, to destroy sensations thus pleasing? Was it not much better and kinder, both to sleep upon them myself, and to allow others also the pleasure of sleeping upon them? But if it be meant, by sleeping upon his speech, that I took time to prepare a reply to it, it is quite a mistake. Owing to other engagements, I could not employ even the interval between the adjournment of the senate and its meeting the next morning, in attention to the subject of this debate.

Nevertheless, the mere matter of fact is undoubtedly true. I did sleep on the gentleman's speech, and slept soundly. And I slept equally well on his speech of yesterday. It is quite possible that in this respect, ^Iso, I possess some advantage over the honorable member, attributable, doubt- less, to a cooler temperament on my part; for, in truth, I slept upon his speeches remarkably well.

XXIII.— WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYNE.— No. III.

THE gentleman inquires why he was made the object of such a reply. Why was he singled out? If an attack has been made on the East, he, he assures us, did not begin it. It was made by the gentleman from Missouri. I answered the gentleman's speech because I happened to hear it. I chose, also, to give an answer to that speech, which, if unanswered, I thought most likely to produce in- jurious impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the original drawer of the bill. I found a responsible endorser before me, and it was my purpose to hold him liable, and to bring him to his just responsibility, without delay.

But, this interrogatory of the honorable member was only introductory to another. He proceeded to ask me whether I had turned upon him, in this debate, from the consciousness that I should find an overmatch, if I ventured on a contest with his friend from Missouri. If the honorable

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member, in his modesty, had chosen thus to defer to his friend, and pay him a compliment, without intentional dis- paragement to others, it would have been quite according to the friendly courtesies of debate, and not at all ungrat$* ful to my own feelings.

I am not one of those, who esteem any tribute of regard, whether light and occasional, or more serious and deliberate, which may be bestowed on others, as so much unjustly withholden from themselves. But the tone and manner of the gentleman's question forbid me thus to interpret it. I am not at liberty to consider it as nothing more than a civility to his friend. It had an air of taunt and dispar- agement, something of the loftiness of asserted superiority, which does not allow me to pass it over without notice.

It was put as a question for me to answer, and so put as if it were difficult for me to answer, whether I deemed the member from Missouri an overmatch far myself, in debate here. It seems to me, that this is extraordinary language, and an extraordinary tone, for the discussions of this body.

XXIV.— WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYNE.— No. IV.

MATCHES and overmatches! Those terms are more applicable elsewhere than here, and fitter for other assem- blies than this. The gentleman seems to forget where and what we are. This is a senate, a senate of equals, of men of individual honor and personal character, and of absolute independence. We know no masters, we acknowledge no dictators. This is a hall for mutual consultation and dis- cussion; not an arena for the exhibition of champions.

I offer myself, as a match for no man. I throw the chal- lenge of debate at no man's feet. But then, since the honorable member has put the question in a manner that calls for an answer, I will give him an answer. I tell him, that, holding myself to be the humblest of the members here, I yet know nothing in the arm of his friend from Missouri, either alone or when aided by the arm of his friend from South Carolina, that need deter even me from espousing whatever opinions I may choose to espouse, from

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debating whenever I may choose to debate, or from speak- ing whatever I may see fit to say, on the floor of the senate.

When uttered as matter of commendation or compliment, I should dissent from nothing which the honorable member might say of his friend. Still less do I put forth any pre- tensions of my own. But when put to me as a matter of taunt, I throw it back, and say to the gentleman, that he could possibly say nothing less likely than such a com- parison to wound my pride of personal character. The anger of its tone rescued the remark from intentional irony, which otherwise, probably, would have been its general acceptation.

But, if it be imagined that by this mutual quotation and commendation ; if it be supposed that, by casting the char- acters of the drama, assigning to each his part, to one the attack, to another the cry of onset; or if it be thought that, by a loud and empty vaunt of anticipated victory, any laurels are to be won here; if it be imagined, especially, that any, or all of these things will shake any purpose of mine, I can tell the honorable member, once for all, that he is greatly mistaken, and that he is dealing with one of whose temper and character he has yet much to learn.

I shall not allow myself, on this occasion, I hope on no occasion, to be betrayed into any loss of temper. If pro- voked, however, as I trust I never shall be, into crimination and recrimination, the honorable member may perhaps find, that, in that contest, there will be blows to take as well as blows to give. He may find, that others can state compari- sons as significant, at least, as his own, and that his impu- nity may possibly demand of him whatever powers of taunt and sarcasm he may possess. I commend him to a prudent husbandry of his resources.

XXV.— WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYNE.— No. V.

THE honorable member was not, for many reasons, en- tirely happy in his allusion to the story of Banquo's murder and Banquo's ghost. It was not, I think, the friends, but

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the enemies of the murdered Banquo, at whose bidding his spirit would not down. The honorable gentleman is fresh in his reading of the English classics, and can put me right if I am wrong. But, according to my poor recollection, it was at those who had begun with caresses and ended with foul and treacherous murder, that the gory locks were shaken.

The ghost of Banquo, like that of Hamlet, was an honest ghost. It disturbed no innocent man. It knew where its appearance would strike terror, and who would cry out, A ghost! It made itself visible in the right quarter, and com- pelled the guilty and the conscience-smitten, and none others, to start, with,

"Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! If I stand here, I saw him ! "

Their eyeballs were seared (was it not so?) who had thought to shield themselves by concealing their own hand, and laying the imputation of the crime on a low and hire- ling agency in wickedness; who had vainly attempted to stifle the workings of their own coward consciences by ejaculating through white lips and chattering teeth, ':Thou canst not say I did it!"

I have misread the great poet if those who had no way partaken in the deed of the death, either found that they were, or feared that they should be, pushed from their stools by the ghost of the slain, or exclaimed to a specter, created by their own fears and their own remorse, "Avaunt! and quit our sight!"

There is another particular, in which the honorable member's quick perception of resemblances might, I should think, have seen something in the story of Banquo, making it not altogether a subject of the most pleasant contempla- tion. Those who murdered Banquo, what did they win by it? Substantial good? Permanent power? Or disappoint- ment, rather, and sore mortification; dust and ashes, the common fate of vaulting ambition overleaping itself?

Did not even-handed justice ere long commend the poisoned chalice to their own lips? Did they not soon find that for another they had "filed their mind?" that

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their ambition, though apparently for the moment success- ful, had but put a barren scepter in their grasp? Ay, sir,

" a barren scepter in their gripe, Thence to be wrenched by an unlineal hand, No son of theirs succeeding."

XXVI.— NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD.

" THE bones of her sons, falling in the great struggle for inde- pendence, now lie mingled, with the soil of every State, from New England to Georgia; and there they will remain forever." — Webster.

NEW ENGLAND'S dead! New England's dead!

On every hill they lie; On every field of strife, made red

By bloody victory. Each valley, where the battle poured

Its red and awful tide, Beheld the brave New England sword

With slaughter deeply dyed. Their bones are on the northern hill,

And on the southern plain, By brook and river, lake and rill,

And by the roaring main.

The land is holy where they fought,

And holy where they fell; For by their blood that land was bought,

The land they loved so well. Then glory to that valiant band, The honored saviors of the land !

They left the plowshare in the mold, Their flocks and herds without a fold, The sickle in the unshorn grain, The corn, half-garnered, on the plain, And mustered in their simple dress, For wrongs to seek a stern redress ; To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, To perish, or o'ercome their foe.

Oh, few and weak their numbers were, A handful of brave men;

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But to their God they gave their prayer,

And rushed to battle then. The God of battles heard their cry, And sent to them the victory.

XXVII— NEW ENGLAND.

GLORIOUS New England! thou art still true to thy an- cient fame, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. We have assembled in this far distant land to celebrate thy birth- day. A thousand fond associations throng upon us, roused by the spirit of the hour. On thy pleasant valleys rest, like sweet dews of morning, the gentle recollections of our early life. Around thy hills and mountains cling, like gathering mists, the mighty memories of the Revolution. And, far away in the horizon of thy past, gleam, like thy own bright northern lights, the awful virtues of our pil- grim sires !

But while we devote this day to the remembrance of our native land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast. We exult in the reflection, that though we count by thousands the miles which separate us from our birthplace, still our country is the same. We are no exiles meeting upon the banks of a foreign river, to swell its waters with our homesick tears. Here floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish heads, except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering stars increased in number.

The sons of New England are found in every State of the broad republic ! In the East, the South, and the un- bounded West, their blood mingles freely with every kin- dred current. We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion. In all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our brothers. To us the Union has but one domestic hearth. Its household gods are all the same. Upon us, then, peculiarly devolves the duty of feed- ing the fires upon that kindly hearth; of guarding with pious care those sacred household gods.

We can not do with less than the whole Union. To us it admits of no division. In the veins of our children

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flow Northern and Southern blood. How shall it be sep- arated? Who shall put asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts of our nature? We love the land of our adoption ; so do we that of our birth. Let us ever be true to both; and always exert ourselves in main- taining the unity of our country, the integrity of the re- public.

Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden cord of union ! Thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shall propose its severance! But no! the Union can not be dissolved. Its fortunes are too brilliant to be marred ; its destinies, too powerful to be resisted. And when, a century hence, this city shall have filled her golden horns; when within her broad-armed port shall be gathered the products of the industry of freemen ; when galleries of art and halls of learning shall have made classic this mart of trade; then may the sons of the Pilgrims, still wandering from the bleak hills of the north, stand upon the banks of the Great River, and exclaim, with mingled pride and wonder ; Lo ! this is our country. When did the world ever behold so great and glorious a republic?

FROM S. S. PRENTISS.

XXVIII.— THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

THE stately Homes of England,

How beautiful they stand ! Amid their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound,

Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound

Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry Homes of England !

Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love

Meet in the ruddy light ! There, woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childhood's tale is told,

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Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old.

The bless-ed Homes of England !

How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from sabbath hours ! Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bells' chime

Floats through their woods at morn ; All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.

The cottage Homes of England !

By thousands o'er her plains, They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,

And round the hamlet fanes. Through glowing orchards forth they peep>

Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair Homes of England!

Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared

To guard each hallowed Avail! And green forever be the groves,

And bright the fairy sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its country and its God!

FROM MRS. HEMANS.

j

XXIX.— THE HERMIT HUNTER

How gladly would I wander through some strange and savage

land,

The lasso at my saddle-bow, the rifle in my hand, A leash of gallant mastiffs bounding by my side, And for a friend to love, the noble horse on which I ride !

Alone, alone; yet not alone, for God is with me there, The tender hand of Providence shall guide me everywhere, While happy thoughts and holy hopes, as spirits calm and mild, Shall fan with their sweet wings the hermit hunter of the wild !

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Without a guide, yet guided well, young, buoyant, fresh, and

free,

Without a road, yet all the land a highway unto me; Without a care, without a fear, without a grief or pain, Exultingly I thread the woods, or gallop o'er the plain !

Or, brushing through the copse, from his leafy home I start

The stately elk or tusky boar, the bison or the hart;

And then, with eager spur, to scour away, away!

Nor stop until my dogs have brought the glorious brute to bay.

Or, if the gang of hungry wolves come yelling on my track, I make my ready rifle speak, and scare the cowards back; Or, if the lurking leopard's eyes among the branches shine, A touch upon the trigger, and his spotted skin is mine !

And then the hunter's savory fare, at tranquil eventide, The dappled deer I shot to-day, upon the green hillside; My feasted hounds are slumbering round, beside the watercourse, And plenty of sweet prairie-grass for thee, my noble horse.

FROM TUPPEK.

XXX.— THE DOCTOR.— SCENE I.

CHARACTERS. — Gregory and his wife Dorcas. (Enter Dorcas and Gregory.)

Gregory. I TELL you no, I wont comply, and it is my business to talk and to command.

Dorcas. And I tell you, you shall conform to my will. I was not married to you to suffer your ill-humors.

Greg. 0 the intolerable fatigue of matrimony ! Aris- totle never said a better thing in his life, than when he told us, "that a wife is worse than a plague."

Dor. Hear the learned gentleman, with his Aristotles.

Greg. And a learned man I am, too. Find me out a maker of fagots, that 's able, like myself, to reason upon things, or that can boast such an education as mine.

Dor. An education !

Greg. Ay, woman, a regular education ; first at the char- ity-school, where I learnt to read ; then I waited on a gen- tleman at Oxford, where I learnt — very near as much as my master ; from whence I attended a traveling physician

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six years, under the facetious denomination of a Merry Andrew, where I learnt physic.

Dor. 0 that thou hadst followed him still! Ah! ill- fated hour, wherein I answered the parson, I will.

Greg. And ill-fated be the parson that asked me the question !

Dor. You have reason to complain of him, indeed, who ought to be on your knees every moment, returning thanks to heaven, for that great blessing it sent you, when it sent you myself. I hope you have not the assurance to think you deserve such a wife as I.

Greg. No, really, I do n't think I do. Come, come, madam, it was a lucky day for you, when you found me out.

Dor. Lucky, indeed ! a fellow who eats every thing I have. .

Greg. That happens to be a mistake, for I drink some part on 't.

Dor. That has not even left me a bed to lie on.

Greg. You'll rise the earlier.

Dor. And who, from morning till night, is constantly in an alehouse.

Grey. 'T is genteel. The squire does the same.

Dor. And do you imagine, sot —

Greg. Hark ye, my dear; you know my temper is not over and above passive, and that my arm is extremely ac- tive.

Dor. I laugh at your threats, poor, beggarly, insolent fellow.

Greg. Soft object of my wishing eyes, I shall play witli your pretty ears.

Dor. Touch me if you dare, you insolent, impudent, dirty, lazy —

Greg. Oh, ho, ho ! you will have it then, I find. (Beats her.)

Dor. 0 murder ! murder !

(Enter Squire Robert.)

Robert. What 's the matter here ? Fie upon you, neigh- bor, to beat your wife in this scandalous manner.

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Dor. Well, sir, and I have a mind to be beat, and what then?

Rob. 0 dear, madam ! I give my consent, with all my heart and soul.

Dor. What 's that, you saucebox ? Is it any business of yours ?

Rob. No, certainly, madam.

Dor. Here 's an impertinent fellow for you ; wont suf- fer a husband to beat his own wife !

Rob. Neighbor, I ask your pardon, heartily; here, take and thrash your wife ; beat her as you ought to do.

Greg. No, sir, I wont beat her.

Rob. 0 ! sir, that 's another thing.

Greg. I '11 beat her when I please, and will not beat her when I do not please. She is my wife, and not yours.

Rob. Certainly.

Dor. Give me the stick, dear husband.

Rob. Well, if I ever attempt to part husband and wife again, may I be beaten myself. (Exit.*)

Greg. Come, my dear, let us be friends.

Dor. What, after beating me so?

Greg. 'T was but in jest.

Dor. I desire you will crack your jests on your own bones next time, not on mine.

Greg. Psha ! you know, you and I are one, and I beat one half of myself, when I beat you.

Dor. Yes, but for the future, I desire you will beat the other half of yourself.

Greg. Come, my pretty dear, I ask pardon. I 'm sorry for 't.

Dor. For once, I pardon you ; but you shall pay for it.

Greg. Psha ! psha ! child, these are only little affairs, necessary in friendship. Four or five good blows with a cudgel, between your very fond couples, only tend to highten the affections. I '11 now to the wood, and I prom- ise thee to make a hundred fagots before I come home again. (Exit.)

Dor. If I am not revenged on those blows of yours ! Oh, that I could but think of some method to be revenged

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on him ! Oh, that I could find out some invention to get him well drubbed! FKOM FIELDING.

XXXI— THE DOCTOR— SCENE II.

CHARACTERS.— Harry, and James, and Dorcas. (Enter Harry and James. Dorcas in the background.}

Harry. WERE ever two fools sent on such a message as we are, in quest of a dumb doctor ?

James. Blame your own paltry memory, that made you forget his name. For my part, I'll travel through the world, rather than return without him. That were as much as a limb or two were worth.

Ear. Was ever such a sad misfortune ? to lose the let- ter ! I should not even know his name, if I were to hear it.

Dor. (Aside.) Can I find no invention to be revenged? Heyday! who are these?

Jam. Hark ye, mistress. Do you know where— where —where doctor what-d'ye-call him, lives?

Dor. Doctor who?

Jam. Doctor— doctor— what's his name?

Dor. Hey ! what! has the fellow a mind to banter me?

Har. Is there no physician hereabout, famous for curing dumbness?

Dor. I fancy you have no need of such a physician Mr. Impertinence.

Har. Don't mistake us, good woman. We don't mean » banter you. We are sent by our master, whose daugh- ter has lost her speech, for a certain physician, who lives hereabout. We have lost our direction, and 'tis as much as our lives are worth, to return without him.

Dor. There is one Doctor Lazy lives just by, but he has left off practicing. You would not get him a mile, to save the lives of a thousand patients.

Jam. Direct us but to him. We'll bring him with us, one way or other, I warrant you.

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Har. Ay, ay, we'll have him with us, though we carry him on our backs.

Dor. (Aside.~) Ha ! revenge inspires me with one of the most admirable thoughts to punish my husband, for treating me so badly. He's reckoned one of the best physicians in the world, especially for dumbness.

Har. Pray tell us where he lives ?

Dor. You '11 never be able to get him out of his own house. But, if you watch hereabout, you '11 certainly meet with him, for he very often amuses himself here with cutting wood.

Har. A physician cut wood !

Jam. I suppose he amuses himself in searching after herbs, you mean.

Dor. No, he's one of the most extraordinary men in the world. He goes dressed like a common clown ; for there is nothing he so much dreads, as to be known for a physician.

Jam. All your great men have strange oddities about 'em.

Dor. Why, he will suffer himself to be beat, before he will own himself to be a physician. I '11 give you my word, you'll never make him own himself one, unless you both of you, take a good cudgel and thrash him into it. 'T is what we are all forced to do, when we have any need of him.

Jam. What a ridiculous whim is here !

Dor. Very true ; and in so great a man.

Jam. And is he so very skillful a man ?

Dor. Skillful ! why, he does miracles. About half a year ago, a woman was given over by all her physicians, nay, it is said, she had been dead, some time. When this great man came to her, as soon as he saw her, he poured '< a little drop of something down her throat. He had no sooner done it, than she walked about the room as if there had been nothing the matter with her.

Both. Oh, prodigious !

Dor. 'T is not above three weeks ago, that a child of, twelve years old, fell from the top of a house to the bot-

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torn, and broke its skull, its arms, and legs. Our physician was no sooner drubbed into making him a visit, than hav- ing rubbed the child all over with a certain ointment, it got upon its legs, and ran away to play.

Both. Oh, most wonderful !

Har. Hey ! James, we '11 drub him otft of a pot of this ointment.

Jam. But can he cure dumbness ?

Dor. Dumbness ! why, the curate of our parish's wife, was born dumb, and the doctor, they say, with a sort of wash, washed her tongue till he set it a-going, so that in less than a month's time, she out-talked her husband.

Har. This must be the very man we were sent after.

Dor. Yes, no doubt; and see, yonder he is.

Jam. What, that he, yonder?

Dor. The very same. He has seen us, and is taking up his ax.

Jam. Come, Harry, don't let us lose one moment. Mistress, your servant. We give you ten thousand thanks for this favor.

Dor. Be sure and make good use of your sticks.

Jam. He shan't want for that. (Exeunt?)

FROM FIELDING.

XXXII.— THE DOCTOR.— SCENE III.

CHARACTERS. — Harry, and James, and Gregory. (Gregory with his ax. Enter James and Harry.}

Greg. FEUGH ! 't is most confounded hot weather. Hey! who have we here ?

Jam. Sir, your most obedient, humble servant.

Greg. Sir, your servant. (Bowing.}

Jam. We are mighty happy in finding you here.

Greg. Ay, like enough.

Jam. 'T is in your power, sir, to do us a very great favor. We come, sir, to implore your assistance in a cer- tain affair.

Greg. If it be in my power to give you any assistance, masters, I am very ready to do it.

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Jam. Sir, you arc extremely obliging. But, dear sir, let me beg you'd be covered, the sun will hurt your com- plexion.

liar. Oh, do, good sir, be covered.

Greg. (Aside.) These should be footmen, by their dress j but courtiers, by their ceremony.

Jam. You must not think it strange, sir, that we come thus to seek after you. Men of your capacity will be sought after by the whole world.

Greg. Truly, gentlemen, though I say it, that should not say it, I have a pretty good hand at a fagot.

Jam. 0 dear, sir !

Greg. You may, perhaps, buy fagots cheaper elsewhere. But, if you find such in all this country, you shall have mine for nothing. To make but one word, then, with you, you shall have mine for ten shillings a hundred.

Jam. Don't talk in that manner, I desire you.

Greg. I could riot sell 'em a penny cheaper, if 'twas to my father.

Jam. Dear sir, we know you very well ; don't jest with us in this manner.

Greg. Faith, master, I am so much in earnest, that I can't bate one farthing.

Jam. 0 pray, sir, leave this idle discourse. Can a per- son like you, amuse himself in this manner? Can a learned and famous physician, like you, try to disguise himself to the world, and bury such fine talents in the woods?

Greg. The fellow's a ninny.

Jam. Let me entreat you, sir, not to dissemble with us.

Har. It is in vain, sir, we know what you are.

Greg. Know what you are ! what do you know of me ?

Jam. Why, we know you, sir, to be a very great phy- sician.

Greg. Physician in your teeth ! I a physician !

Jam. The fit is on him. Sir, let me beseech you to conceal yourself no longer, and oblige us to — you know what.

Greg. Know what! No, sir; I don't know what. But I know this, that I'm no physician. NEW EC. S. — 8

90 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

Jam. We must proceed to the usual remedy, I find. And so you are no physician ?

Greg. No.

Jam. You are no physician ?

Greg. No, I tell you.

Jam. Well, if we must, we must. (Seats him.")

Greg. Oh ! oh ! Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! what are you doing? I am — I'm whatever you'd please to have me!

Jam. Why will you oblige us, sir, to this violence ?

Har. Why will you force us to this troublesome rem- edy?

Jam. I assure you, sir, it gives me a great deal of pain.

Greg. I assure you, sir, and so it does me. But pray, gentlemen, what is the reason that you have a mind to make a physician of me ?

Jam. What ! do you deny your being a physician again ?

Greg. To be sure I do. I am no physician.

Har. You are no physician ?

Greg. May I be hanged, if I am. (They beat him.') Oh ! oh ! Dear gentlemen ! Oh ! for mercy's sake ! I am a physician, and an apothecary too, if you'll have me. I had rather be any thing, than be knocked o' the head.

Jam. Dear sir, I am rejoiced to see you come to your senses. I ask pardon (ten thousand times) for what you have forced us to.

Greg. Perhaps I am deceived myself, and am a physi- cian without knowing it. But, dear gentlemen, are you certain I 'ni a physician ?

Jam. Yes, the greatest physician in the world.

Greg. Indeed !

Har. A physician that has cured all sorts of distempers.

Greg. The dickens I have !

Jam. That has made a woman walk about the room after she was dead six hours.

Har. That set a child upon its legs, immediately after it had broken 'em.

Jam. That made the curate's wife, who was dumb, talk faster than her husband.

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Har. Look ye, sir. You shall be satisfied. My master will give you whatever you will demand.

Greg. I shall have whatever I will demand?

Jam. You may depend upon it.

Greg. . I am a physician without doubt. I had forgot it, but I begin to recollect myself. Well, and what is the distemper 1 am to cure?

Jam. My young mistress, sir, has lost her tongue.

Greg. Well, what if she has ; do you think I 've found it? But, come, gentlemen, if I must go with you, I must. (Exeunt.) FROM FIELDING.

XXXIIL— THE DOCTOR— SCENE IV.

CHARACTERS. — Sir Jasper, James, and Gregory. (Enter Sir Jasper and James.)

Sir Jasper. WHERE is he? Where is he?

Jam. Only recruiting himself after his journey. You need not be impatient, sir, for were my young lady dead, he'd bring her to life again. He makes no more of bringing a patient to life, than other physicians do of kill- ing him.

Sir J. 'T is strange so great a man should have those unaccountable odd humors you mentioned.

Jam. 'T is but a good blow or two, and he comes im- mediately to himself. Here he is.

(Enter Gregory.)

Sir, this is the doctor.

Sir J. Dear sir, you are the welcomest man in the world.

Greg. Hippocrates says, we should both be covered.

Sir J. Ha ! does Hippocrates say so ? In what chapter, pray?

Greg. In his chapter of hats.

Sir J. Since Hippocrates says so, I shall obey him.

Greg. Doctor, after having exceedingly traveled in the highway of letters —

Sir J. Doctor ! pray whom do you speak to ?

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Greg. To you, doctor.

Sir J. Ha! ha! I am a knight, thank the king's grace for it; but no doctor.

Greg. What! you're no doctor?

Sir J. No, upon my word.

Greg. You're no doctor?

Sir J. Doctor! no.

Greg. There; 't is done. (Beats him.'}

Sir J. Done! in the name of mischief, what's done?

Greg. Why, now you are made a doctor of physic.

(Aside.) I am sure 'tis all the degrees I ever took.

Sir J. What bedlamite of a fellow have you brought

i c\ •* O

here ?

Jam. I told you, sir, the doctor had strange whims with him.

Sir J. Whims ! Truly ! I shall bind his physician- Bhip over to his good behavior, if he have any more of these whims.

Greg. Sir, I ask pardon for the liberty I have taken.

Sir J. Oh ! 't is very well ; 't is very well, for once.

Greg. I am sorry for these blows.

Sir J. Nothing at all, nothing at all, sir.

Greg. Which I was obliged to have the honor of lay- ing so thick on you.

Sir J. Let's talk no more of 'em, sir. My daughter, doctor, is fallen into a very strange distemper.

Greg. Sir, I am overjoyed to hear it. I wish, with all my heart, you and your whole family, had the same occa- sion for me as your daughter, to show the great desire I have to serve you.

Sir J. Sir, I am obliged to you.

Greg. I assure you, sir, I speak from the very bottom of my soul.

Sir J. I do believe you, sir, from the very bottom of mine.

Greg. What is your daughter's name?

Sir J. My daughter's name is Charlotte.

Greg. Are you sure she was christened Charlotte ?

Sir J. No, sir ; she was christened Charlotta.

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G-reg. Hum! I bad rather she should have been chris- tened Charlotte. Charlotte is a very good name for a patient ; and, let me tell you, the name is often of as much service to the patient, as the physician is. Pray, what's the matter with your daughter? What's her distemper?

Sir J. Why, her distemper, doctor, is, that she has be- come dumb, and no one can assign the cause; and this distemper, sir, has kept back her marriage.

Greg. Kept back her marriage ? why so ?

SirJ. Because her lover refuses to have her till she 's cured.

Greg. 0! was ever such a fool, that would not have his wife dumb? Would to heaven my wife was dumb. I'd be far from desiring to cure her. Does this distemper op- press her very much?

Sir J. Yes, sir.

Greg. So much the better. Has she any great pains?

Sir J. Very great.

Greg. That's just as I would have it. We great phy- sicians know a distemper immediately. I know some of the college would call your daughter's distemper the Boree, or the Coupee, or the Sinkee, or twenty other distempers. But I give you my word, sir, your daughter is nothing more than dumb. So I 'd have you be very easy, for there is nothing else the matter with her ; if sjie were not dumb, she would be as well as I am.

Sir J. But I should be glad to know, doctor, from whence her dumbness proceeds.

Greg. Nothing so easily accounted for. Her dumbness proceeds from her having lost her speech.

Sir J. But whence, if you please, proceeds her having lost her speech ?

Greg. All our best authors will tell you, it is the im- pediment of the action of the tongue.

Sir J. But, if you please, dear sir, your sentiment upon that impediment.

Greg. Aristotle has, upon that subject, said very fine things ; very fine things.

Sir J. I believe it, doctor.

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Greg. Ah ! he was a great man. He was indeed a very great man, who, upon that subject, was a man that — but, to return to our reasoning. I hold that this impediment of the action of the tongue is caused by certain humors, which our great physician calls — humors — humors — ah! you understand Latin —

Sir J. Not in the least.

Greg. What ! not understand Latin ?

Sir J. No, indeed, doctor.

Greg. Cabricius arci Thurum Cathalimus, Singulariter non. Haec musa, hie, haec, hoc, Genitivo hujus, hunc,' hanc, Musse, Bonus, bona, bonum.

Sir J. Ah ! why did I neglect my studies ?

Jam. What a prodigious man is this!

Greg. Besides, sir, certain spirits, passing from the left side, which is the seat of the liver, to the right, which is the seat of the heart, we find the lungs, which we call in Latin, Whiskerus, having communication with the brain, which we name in Greek, Jackbootos, by means of a hol- low vein, which we call in Hebrew, Periwiggus, meet in the road with the said spirits, which fill the venticles of the Omotaplasmus, and because the said humors have a certain malignity — listen seriously, I beg you —

Sir J. I do.

Greg. Have a certain malignity, that is caused — be at- tentive, if you please —

Sir J. I am.

Greg. That is caused, I say, by the acrimony of the humors, engendered in the concavity of the diaphragm ; thence it arises, that these vapors, Propriaque maribus tribuunter, mascula dicas, Ut sunt divorum. This, sir, is the cause of your daughter's being dumb.

Jam. O that I had but his tongue !

Sir J. It is impossible to reason better, no doubt. But, dear sir, there is one thing. I always thought till now, that the heart was on the left side, and the liver on the right

Greg. Ay, sir, so they were formerly, but we have changed all that. The college, at present, sir, proceeds upon an entire new method.

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Sir J. I ask your pardon, sir.

Greg. Oh, sir, there's no harm. You're not obliged to know so much as we do.

Sir J. Very true ; but, doctor, what would you have done with my daughter ?

Greg. What would I have done with her? Why, my advice is, that you immediately put her into a bed, warmed with a brass warming-pan. Cause her to drink one quart of spring water, mixed with one pint of brandy, six Seville oranges, and three ounces of the best double refined sugar.

Sir J. Why, this is punch, doctor.

Greg. Punch, sir ! Ay, sir ; and what 's better than punch, to make people talk ? Never tell me of your juleps, your gruels — your — your — this, and that, and t'other, which are only arts to keep a patient in hand a long time. I love to do a business all at once.

Sir J. Doctor, I ask pardon, you shall be obeyed. (Gives money.)

Greg. But hold ! Sir Jasper, let me tell you, it were not amiss if you yourself took a little lenitive physic. I shall prepare something for you.

Sir J. Ha ! ha ! ha ! No, no, doctor. I have escaped both doctors and distempers hitherto, and I am resolved the distemper shall pay me the first visit.

Greg. Say you so, sir? Why, then, if I can get no more patients here, I must even seek 'em elsewhere; and so humbly beggo te Domine Doinitii veniam goundi foras. (Exit.)

Sir J. Well, this is a physician of vast capacity, but of exceeding odd humors. He, no doubt, understands himself, however, and I have great faith in his prescrip- tion. (Exeunt.) FEOM FIELDING.

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XXXIV.— REMOVAL OF TROOPS FROM BOSTON.

THE EARL of CHATHAM, (Win. Pitt, the elder,) was a warm and in- fluential friend of America, during the Revolutionary war. His speeches are among the richest specimens of eloquence in any language. For some of these, see McGuffey's New Sixth Eclectic Reader.

If it should be desired to make the following somewhat shorter, it may appropriately end with the sixth paragraph.

I RISE with astonishment, to see these papers brought to your table, at so late a period of this business. Papers, to tell us what? Why, what all the world knew before. That the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and stripped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of their common liberties.

Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, things would not have come to this. But the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it was said, did not know whether it was aggrieved or not. But full well I knew, at that time, that this child, if not redressed, would soon as- sume the courage and voice of a man. Full well I knew, that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free con- stitution, and once breathing the same liberal air as Eng- lishmen, would resist upon the same principles, and on the same occasions.

What has government done ? They have sent an armed force, consisting of seventeen thousand men, to dragoon the Bostonians into what is called their duty. So far from once turning their eyes to the policy and destructive con- sequence of this scheme, they are constantly sending out more troops. And we are told in the language of menace, that, if seventeen thousand men wont do, fifty thousand shall.

It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage the country. They may waste and destroy as they march. But, in the progress of fifteen hundred miles, can they

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occupy the places they have passed? Will not a country, which can produce three millions of people, wronged arid insulted as they are, start up like hydras in every corner, and gather fresh strength from fresh opposition ? Nay, what dependence can you have upon the soldiery, the un- happy engines of your wrath? They are Englishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. Do you think that these men can turn their arms against their brethren ? Surely not. A victory must be to them a defeat ; and car- nage, a sacrifice.

But it is not merely. the three millions of America, we have to contend with in this unnatural struggle; many more are on their side, dispersed over the face of this wide empire. Every whig in this country and in Ireland is with them. Who, then, let me demand, has given, and contin- ues to give, this strange and unconstitutional advice?

I do not mean to level at any one man, or any particu- lar set of men ; but thus much I will venture to declare, that, if his majesty continues to hear such counselors, he will not only be badly advised, but undone. He may con- tinue indeed to wear his crown : but it will not be worth his wearing. Robbed of so principal a jewel as America, it will lose its luster, and no longer beam that effulgence which should irradiate the brow of majesty.

In this alarming crisis, I come, with this paper in my hand, to offer you the best of my experience and advice. That is, that an humble petition be presented to his majesty, beseeching him, that in order to open the way toward a happy settlement of the dangerous troubles in America, it may graciously please him, that immediate orders be given to General Gage to remove his majesty's forces from the town of Boston.

And this, my lords, upon the most mature and delibe- rate grounds, is the best advice I can give you, at this juncture. Such conduct will convince America that you mean to try her cause in the spirit of freedom and inquiry, and not in letters of blood. There is no time to be lost. Every hour is big with danger. Perhaps, while I am now speaking, the decisive blow is struck, which may involve NEW EC. S.— 9

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millions in the consequence. And, believe me, the very first drop of blood which is shed, will cause a wound which may never be healed. FROM CHATHAM.

XXXV,— THE STAMP ACT.

A CHARGE is brought against gentlemen sitting in this House of giving birth to sedition in America. Several have spoken their sentiments with freedom against this unhappy act, and that freedom has become their crime. Sorry I am to hear the liberty of speech in this House im- puted as a crime. But the imputation shall not discour- age me. The gentleman tells us, America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. I rejoice that Amer- ica has resisted. Three millions of people, so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to let themselves be made slaves, would have been fit instruments to make slaves of all the rest. I would not debate a particular point of law with the gentleman. I know his abilities. But, for the defense of liberty, upon a general principle, upon a constitutional principle, it is a ground on which I stand firm, on which I dare meet any man.

"The gentleman boasts of his bounties to America. Are not those bounties intended finally for the benefit of this kingdom? If they are not, he has misapplied the national treasures. He asks, When were the Colonies emancipated? I desire to know when they were made slaves ! But 1 dwell not upon words. I will be bold to affirm, that the profits of Great Britain from the trade of the Colonies, through all its branches, are two millions a year. This is the fund that carried you triumphantly through the last war. This is the price America pays for her protection. And shall a miserable financier come, with a boast that he can fetch a pepper-corn into the exchequer, by the loss of millions to the nation?

great deal has been said, without doors, of the power, of the strength, of America. It is a topic that ought to be cautiously meddled with. In a good cause, the force of this country can crush America to atoms. I know the

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valor of your troops. I know the skill of your officers. But on this ground, I am one who will lift up my hands against it. In such a cause, even your success would be hazardous. America, if she fell, would fall like the strong man. She would embrace the pillars of the State, and pull down the Constitution along with her. Is this your boasted peace? To sheathe the sword, not in its scabbard, but in the bowels of your countrymen ?

The Americans have been wronged. They have been driven to madness by injustice. Will you punish them for the madness you have occasioned? Rather let prudence and temper come first from this side! I will undertake for America that she will follow the example.

" Be to her faults a little blind ; Be to her virtues very kind."

Let the Stamp Act be repealed; and let the reason for the repeal — because the Act was founded on an erroneous princi- ple— be assigned. Let it be repealed absolutely, totally, and immediately ! FROM CHATHAM.

XXXVI.— RECONCILIATION WITH AMERICA.

AMERICA, my lords, can not be reconciled to this coun- try, she ought not to be reconciled, till the troops of Britain are withdrawn. How can America trust you, with the bay- onet at her breast? How can she suppose that you mean less than bondage or death? The way must be immedi- ately opened for reconciliation. It will soon be too late. An hour, now lost in allaying ferments in America, may produce years of calamity. Never will I desert, for a mo- ment, the conduct of this weighty business. Unless nailed to my bed by the extremity of sickness, I will pursue it to the end. I will knock at the door of this sleeping and confounded ministry, and will, if it be possible, rouse them to a sense of their danger.

I contend not for indulgence, but for justice, to America. What is our right to persist in such cruel and vindictive, acts against a loyal, respectable people? They say 'you

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have no right to tax them without their consent. They say truly. Representation and taxation must go together. They are inseparable. I therefore urge and conjure your lordships immediately to adopt this conciliating measure. If illegal violences have been, as is said, committed in Amer- ica, prepare the way, open the door of possibility, for acknowledgment and satisfaction. But proceed not to such coercion, such proscription. Cease your indiscriminate in- flictions. Amerce not thirty thousand. Oppress not three millions ; irritate them not to unappeasable rancor, for the fault of forty or fifty.

Such severity of injustice must forever render incurable the wounds you have inflicted. What though you march from town to town, from province to province ! What though you enforce a temporary and local submission ! How shall you secure the obedience of the country you leave behind you in your progress? How grasp the dominion of eighteen hundred miles of continent, populous in num- bers, strong in valor, liberty, and the means of resistance?

The spirit which" now resists your taxation, in America, is the same which formerly opposed loans, benevolence, and ship-money, in England ; the same spirit which aroused all England, and, by the Bill of Rights, vindicated the English Constitution ; the same spirit which established the great, fundamental, essential maxim of your liberties, that no subject of England shall l>e taxed but by his own con- sent. This glorious spirit animates three millions in Amer- ica, who prefer poverty, with liberty, to gilded chains and sordid affluence; and who will die in defense of their rights as men, as freemen.

What shall oppose this spirit, aided by the congenial flame glowing in the breast ef every Whig in England? " 'T is liberty to liberty engaged," that they will defend themselves, their families, and their country. In this great cause they are immovably allied. It is the alliance of God and nature ; immutable, eternal ; fixed as the firmament of Heaven. FROM CHATHAM.

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XXXVII.— ON AN ADDRESS TO THE KING.— No. I.

THIS and the following extract, may be spoken separately or to- gether.

I MOST cheerfully agree with the first portion of the address moved by the noble lord. I would even go and prostrate myself at the foot of the throne, were it necessary, to testify my joy at any event, which may promise to add to the domestic felicity of my sovereign ; at any thing, which may seem to give a further security to the permanent enjoyment of the religious and civil rights of my fellow- subjects. But while I do this, I must, also, express my strongest disapprobation of the address, and the fatal measures which it approves.

It has been customary, for the king, on similar occasions, not to lead parliament, but to be guided ly it. It has been usual, I say, to ask the advice of this house, the hereditary great council of the nation, not to dictate to it. What does this speech say? It tells you of measures already agreed upon, and very cavalierly desires your concurrence. It, indeed, talks of wisdom and support. It counts on the certainty of events )^et in the womb of time; but in point of plan and design, it is peremptory and dictatorial. Is this a proper language, fit to be endured? Is this high pretension to overrule the dispositions of Providence itself, and the will and judgment of parliament, justified by any former conduct or precedent ?

No, it is the language of an ill-founded confidence : a confidence, I will be bold to say, supported hitherto only by a succession of disappointments, disgraces, and defeats. I am astonished how any minister dare advise his majesty to hold such a language to your lordships. I would be glad to see the minister that dare avow it in his place.

What is the import of this extraordinary application? What, but an unlimited confidence in those who have hitherto misguided, deceived, and misled you? It is, I maintain, unlimited. It desires you to grant not what you may be satisfied is necessary, but what his majesty's

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ministers may choose to think so; troops, fleets, treaties, and subsidies, not yet revealed. Should your lordships agree to the present address, you will stand pledged to all this. You can not retreat. It binds you to the consequences, be they what they may. Whoever gave this pernicious coun- sel to the king, ought to be made answerable to this house, and to the nation at large, for the consequences. The precedent is dangerous and unconstitutional.

Who, I say, has had the temerity to tell the king that his affairs are in a prosperous condition? And who, of course, is the author of those assurances which are this day given you, in order to mislead you? What is the present state of this nation? It is big with difficulty and danger. It is full of the most destructive circumstances. I say, my lords, it is truly perilous. What are these little islands, Great Britain and Ireland? What is your defense? Nothing.

What is the condition of your formidable and inveterate enemies, the two leading branches of the house of Bourbon? They have a formidable navy. I say their intentions are hostile. I know it. Their coasts are lined with troops, from the furthermost part of the coast of Spain up to Dun- kirk. What have you to oppose them? Not five thousand men in this island; nor more in Ireland; nor above twenty ships of the line manned and fit for service. Without peace, without an immediate restoration of tranquillity, thig nation is ruined. FROM CHATHAM.

XXXVni.— ON AN ADDRESS TO THE KING.— No. II.

NOTE. — Where a speech, like this, closes with a question winch requires the rising inflection, the falling inflection should be substi- tuted for the rising.

WHAT has been the conduct of our ministers? How have they endeavored to conciliate the affection and obedi- ence of their American brethren ? They have gone to Germany. They have sought the alliance and assistance of every pitiful, beggarly, insignificant, paltry German

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prince, to cut the throats of their loyal, brave, and injured brethren in America. They have entered into mercenary treaties with those human butchers, for the purchase and sale of human blood.

But, this is not all. They have entered into other treaties. They have let the savages of America loose upon their innocent, unoffending brethren ; upon the weak, the aged, and defenseless ; on old men, women, and children ; upon the very babes upon the breast, to be cut, mangled, sacrificed, broiled, roasted, nay, to be literally eaten alive.

These are the allies Great Britain now has : carnage, desolation, and destruction, wherever her arms are carried, is her newly adopted mode of making war. Our ministers have made alliances at the German shambles, and with the barbarians of America; with the merciless torturers of their species. Where they will next apply, I can not tell : having already scoured all Germany and America, to seek the assistance of cannibals and butchers.

The arms of this country are disgraced, even in victory as well as defeat. Is this consistent, my lords, with any part of our former conduct ? Was it by means like these we arrived at that pinnacle of fame and grandeur, which, while it established our reputation in every quarter of the globe, gave the fullest testimony of our justice, mercy, and national integrity ? Was it by the tomahawk and scalping-knife, that British valor and humanity became proverbial, and the triumphs of war and the eclat of con- quest became but matters of secondary praise, when com- pared to those of national humanity, and national honor?

Was it by setting loose the savages of America, to im- brue their hands in the blood of our enemies, that the duties of the soldier, the citizen, and the man, came to be united? Is this honorable warfare? Does it correspond with the language of the poet, in

"The pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war, That makes ambition a virtue?"

FROM CHATHAM.

104 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

XXXIX.— APOSTROPHE TO LIBERTY.

WILLIAM TELL, the Washington of Switzerland, after having escaped from the dungeon of the tyrant who had invaded his country, utters the following.

ONCE more I breathe the mountain air; once more

I tread my own free hills! My lofty soul

Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight,

'T is like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing

Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon

With eye undazzled. O ! ye mighty race

That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard

My own proud land; why did ye not hurl down

The thundering avalanche, when at your feet

The base usurper stood ? A touch, a breath,

Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought

Destruction on the hunter's head; and yet

The tyrant passed in safety. God of Heaven!

Where slept thy thunderbolts ?

Oh ! with what pride I used To walk these hills, and look up to my God! This land was free,

From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free, Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, And plow our valleys;

Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, In very presence of the regal sun ! How happy was I in it then! I loved Its very storms ! Yes, I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master save his own!

O LIBERTY !

Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which Life is as nothing. Hast thou then forgot Thy native home? Must the feet of slaves Pollute this glorious scene ? It can not be. Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom In spots where man has never dared to tread; So thy sweet influence still is seen amid These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee,

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And bow alone to Heaven. Thy spirit lives, Ay, and shall live, when even the very name Of tyrant is forgot.

Lo ! while I gaze

Upon the mist that wreathes yon mountain's brow, The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes A crown of glory on his hoary head. O ! is not this a presage of the dawn Of freedom o'er the world? Hear me, then, bright And beaming Heaven! while kneeling thus, I vow To live for freedom, or with her to die !

FROM KNOWLES.

XL.— GERTRUDE.

THE husband of Gertrude was condemned by a tyrant to die upon the wheel, and was attended in his last moments, with heroic fidel- ity, by his wife. „

HER hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised,

The breeze threw back her hair; Up to the fearful wheel she gazed,

All that she loved was there. The night was round her clear and cold,

The holy heaven above; Its pale stars watching to behold

The might of earthly love.

"And bid me not depart," she cried,

"My Rudolph! say not so! This is no time to quit thy side,

Peace, peace ! I can not go. Hath the world aught for me to fear

When death is on thy brow ? The world! what means it? mine is here;

I will not leave thee now!

^

" I have been with thee in thine hour

Of glory and of bliss, Doubt not its memory's living power

To strengthen me through this! And thou, mine honored love and true,

Bear on, bear nobly on!

106 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

We have the bless-ed Heaven in view. Whose rest shall soon be won."

And were not these, high words to flow

From Woman's breaking heart? Through all that night of bitterest woe,

She bore her lofty part: But oh ! with such a freezing eve

With such a curdling cheek! Love, love ! of mortal agony,

Thou, only thou, shouldst speak!

The wind rose high, but with it rose

Her voice, that he might hear; Perchance that dark hour brought repose

To happy bosoms near; While she sat striving with despair

Beside his tortured form, And pouring her deep soul in prayer

Forth on the rushing storm.

She wiped the death-damps from his brow,

With her pale hands and soft, Whose touch, upon the lute chords low,

Had stilled his heart so oft She spread her mantle o'er his breast,

She bathed his lips with dew, And on his cheek such kisses pressed,

As Joy and Hope ne'er knew.

Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,

Enduring to the last! She had her meed; one smile in death;

And his worn spirit passed. While even as o'er a martyr's grave,

She knelt on that sad spot, And weeping, blessed the God who gave

Strength to forsake it not!

FKOM MBS. HEMANS.

ECLECTIC SERIES. 107

XLL— DESCRIPTION OF A FOP.

THIS is the apology of Hotspur for not delivering his prisoners to King Henry, and is followed, in Shakspeare, by the dialogue which forms the succeeding exercise. It may be spoken independently, or in connection with that.

MY liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed, Fresh as a bridegroom : and his chin, new reaped, Showed like a stubble-land at harvest home.

He was perfu'-med like a milliner. Betwixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon, He gave his nose, and took 't away again. And still he smiled, and talked ; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them, untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse, Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms, He questioned me ; among the rest demanded My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, To be so pestered with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answered, neglectingly, I know not what; He should, or should not.

For he made me mad,

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds: (Heaven save the mark!) And telling me, the sovereign' st thing on earth Was parmacity, for an inward bruise ; And 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 ; and, but for these vile guns, He would himself have been a soldier.

108 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly, as I said; And, I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation, Betwixt my love and your high majesty. FROM SHAKSPEARE.

XLII— HOTSPUR AND KING HENRY IV.

King Henry. You still deny your prisoners, But with proviso and exception, That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight Your brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ! No ; on the barren mountains let him starve ! For I shall never hold that man my friend, Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hotspur. Revolted Mortimer ! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war.

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him. Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. (Exit King Henry.)

Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them. I will after straight, And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head. (Enter Worcester.)

Worcester. What! drunk with choler? Stay and pause awhile.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer ? Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let iny soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him ! In his behalf, I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood, drop by drop, in the dust, But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high in the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke !

Wor. Who struck this heat up ?

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;

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And when I urged the ransom once again Of iny wife's brother, then his cheek looked pale; And on my face he turned an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

War. Peace, cousin, say no more. And now I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontent I '11 read you matter deep and dangerous ; As full of peril and adventurous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot. If he fall in, good-night ! or sink or swim, Send danger from the east unto the west, So honor cross it from the north to south, And let them grapple. O ! the blood more stirs To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.

Wor. (Aside.) Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. Methihks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drown-ed honor by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear, Without a rival, all her dignities. But out upon this half-faced fellowship !

Wor. (Aside.) He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend. (Aloud.) Good cousin, give me audience for a while.

Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Those same noble Scots, That are your prisoners —

Hot. I'll keep them all; He shall not have a Scot of them, not one; I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes. Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot. Nay, I will ; that's flat : | TJ-JT I V E R C

He said he would not ransom Mortimer; % ^ Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; ^T<f f *«,? But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I '11 hallo — Mortimer ! Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught t'o speak

110 MCGUFFEY'S NEW SPEAKER.

Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor. Hear you, cousin, a word.

Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke. And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales, But that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I'd have him poisoned with a pot of ale.

Wor. Farewell, kinsman ! I will talk to you When you are better tempered to attend.

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke !

In Richard's time What do you call the place?

A plague upon't! it is in Gloucestershire; 'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept, His uncle York; where I first bowed my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke, When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.

Wor. At Berkley Castle.

Hot. You say true. Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! Look, "when his infant fortune came to age," And, "gentle Harry Percy," and, "kind cousin!" O, out upon such cozeners ! Heaven forgive me ! Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to 't again ; I'll stay your leisure.

Hot. I have done, in faith.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas' son your only help. When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once (As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms.

Hot. Uncle, adieu. O let the hours be short, Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our sport !

FROM SHAKSPEARE.

ECLECTIC SERIES. HI

XLIII— HOTSPUR'S SOLILOQUY.

HOTSPUR, having joined the plot against the king, as hinted at in the preceding dialogue, corresponds with others upon the subject. In the following piece, he enters with a letter in his hand, upon the contents of which he comments as he reads them. It may be spoken alone, or in connection with the preceding.

" BUT for my own part, my lord, I could be well con- tented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house." He could be contented to be there ! Why is he 'not then? In respect of the love he bears our house! He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. " The purpose you undertake is dangerous."

Why, that's certain. 'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink. But I tell you, my lord Fool, out of thi3 nettle danger, we pluck the flower safety. " The purpose you undertake is dangerous ; the friends you have named, uncertain ; the time itself, unsorted ; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition."

Say you so, say you so ? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this ! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our friends, true and constant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation ; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty- spirited rogue is this! Why, my lord, of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action.

By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's