Part 12
1. Out of the way, in a corner Of our dear old attic room, Where bunches of herbs from the hillside Shake ever a faint perfume, An oaken chest is standing, With hasp and padlock and key, Strong as the hands that made it On the other side of the sea.
2. When the winter days are dreary, And we're out of heart with life, Of its crowding cares aweary, And sick of its restless strife, We take a lesson in patience From the attic corner dim, Where the chest still holds its treasures, A warder faithful and grim.
3. Robes of an antique fashion, Linen and lace and silk, That time has tinted with saffron, Though once they were white as milk; Wonderful baby garments, 'Boidered with loving care By fingers that felt the pleasure, As they wrought the ruffles fair;
4. A sword, with the red rust on it, That flashed in the battle tide, When from Lexington to Yorktown Sorely men's souls were tried; A plumed chapeau and a buckle, And many a relic fine, And, an by itself, the sampler, Framed in with berry and vine.
5. Faded the square of canvas, And dim is the silken thread, But I think of white hands dimpled, And a childish, sunny head; For here in cross and in tent stitch, In a wreath of berry and vine, She worked it a hundred years ago, "Elizabeth, Aged Nine."
6. In and out in the sunshine, The little needle flashed, And in and out on the rainy day, When the merry drops down plashed, As close she sat by her mother, The little Puritan maid, And did her piece in the sampler, While the other children played.
7. You are safe in the beautiful heaven, "Elizabeth, aged nine;" But before you went you had troubles Sharper than any of mine. Oh, the gold hair turned with sorrow White as the drifted snow. And your tears dropped here where I'm standing, On this very plumed chapeau.
8. When you put it away, its wearer Would need it nevermore, By a sword thrust learning the secrets God keeps on yonder shore; And you wore your grief like glory, You would not yield supine, Who wrought in your patient childhood, "Elizabeth, Aged Nine."
9. Out of the way, in a corner, With hasp and padlock and key, Stands the oaken chest of my fathers That came from over the sea; And the hillside herbs above it Shake odors fragrant and fine, And here on its lid is a garland To "Elizabeth, aged nine."
10. For love is of the immortal, And patience is sublime, And trouble a thing of every day, And touching every time; And childhood sweet and sunny, And womanly truth and grace, Ever call light life's darkness And bless earth's lowliest place. --Mrs. M. E. Sangster.
DEFINITIONS.--2. Ward'er, a keeper, a guard. 3. An-tique', old, ancient. Saf'fron, a deep yellow. 4. Cha-peau', a hat. 8. Su-pine', listless. 10. Im-mort'al, undying.
NOTES.--6. Puritan. The Puritans were a religious sect who fled from persecution in England, and afterwards settled the most of New England.
A sampler is a needlework pattern; a species of fancywork formerly much in vogue.
LI. THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
1. Bless the Lord, O my soul! O Lord, my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honor and majesty: who coverest thyself with light as with a garment; who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain; who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters; who maketh the clouds his chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind; who maketh his angels spirits, his ministers a flaming fire; who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed forever.
2. Thou coveredst it with the deep as with a garment: the waters stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away. They go up by the mountains; they go down by the valleys unto the place which thou hast founded for them. Thou hast set a bound which they may not pass over; that they turn not again to cover the earth.
3. He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches. He watereth the hills from his chambers; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works.
4. He caused the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man, that he may bring forth food out of the earth; and wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's heart.
5. The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted, where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are her house. The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, and the rocks for the conies.
6. He appointed the moon for seasons; the sun knoweth his going down. Thou makest darkness, and it is night, wherein all the beasts of the forest do creep forth. The young lions roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God. The sun ariseth, they gather themselves together, and lay them down in their dens. Man goeth forth unto his work, and to his labor until the evening.
7. O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches. So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. There go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein. These wait all upon thee, that thou mayest give them their meat in due season.
8. That thou givest them they gather; thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good. Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled; thou takest away their breath, they die, and return to their dust. Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are created; and thou renewest the face of the earth.
9. The glory of the Lord shall endure forever: the Lord shall rejoice in his works. He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: he toucheth the hills, and they smoke.
10. O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men! And let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works with rejoicing.
11. O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name; make known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him: talk ye of all his wondrous' works. Glory ye in his holy name: let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Seek the Lord, and his strength; seek his face evermore.
12. Remember his marvelous works that he hath done; his wonders, and the judgments of his mouth. He is the Lord our God; his judgments are in all the earth. I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being. --Extracts from the Bible.
DEFINITIONS.--2. Found'ed, built, established. 3. Hab-i-ta' tion, place of abode. 5. Ref 'uge, shelter, protection. Co'ny, a kind of rabbit. 6. Ap-point'ed, ordained.
NOTES.--5. Cedars of Lebanon. A species of cedar, of great magnificence, formerly abundant in Mt. Lebanon and the Taurus Range in Asia Minor, but now almost entirely destroyed. The wood is durable and fragrant, and was used in the construction of costly buildings, such as the palace of David and Solomon's Temple.
7. Leviathan. This name is applied in the Old Testament to some huge water animal. In some cases it appears to mean the crocodile, but in others the whale or a large sea serpent.
LII. MY MOTHER.
1. Often into folly straying, O, my mother! how I've grieved her! Oft I've heard her for me praying, Till the gushing tears relieved her; And she gently rose and smiled, Whispering, "God will keep my child."
2. She was youthful then, and sprightly, Fondly on my father leaning, Sweet she spoke, her eyes shone brightly, And her words were full of meaning; Now, an autumn leaf decayed; I, perhaps, have made it fade.
3. But, whatever ills betide thee, Mother, in them all I share; In thy sickness watch beside thee, And beside thee kneel in prayer. Best of mothers! on my breast Lean thy head, and sink to rest.
LIII. THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans (b. 1794, d. 1835) was born in Liverpool, England. Her maiden name was Browne. Her childhood was spent in Wales. Her first volume of poems was published in 1808; her second in 1812. In 1812 she was married to Captain Hemans, but he left her about six years after their marriage, and they never again lived together. She went, with her five sons, to reside with her mother, then living near St. Asaph, in North Wales. Mrs. Hemans then resumed her literary pursuits, and wrote much and well. Her poetry is smooth and graceful, and she excels in description. Many of her poems are exceedingly beautiful.
1. Child, amid the flowers at play, While the red light fades away; Mother, with thine earnest eye, Ever following silently; Father, by the breeze at eve Called thy harvest work to leave; Pray! Ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
2. Traveler, in the stranger's land, Far from thine own household band; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath not leave to dwell; Sailor, on the darkening sea; Lift the heart and bend the knee.
3. Warrior, that from battle won, Breathest now at set of sun; Woman, o'er the lowly slain Weeping on his burial plain; Ye that triumph, ye that sigh, Kindred by one holy tie, Heaven's first star alike ye see; Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
LIV. THE WILL.
Characters.--SWIPES, a brewer; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK MILLINGTON; and SQUIRE DRAWL.
Swipes. A sober occasion, this, brother Currie. Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end?
Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes; and those who live the longest outlive the most.
Swipes. True, true; but, since we must die and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed?
Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her name better.
Swipes. Had you any hint from the Squire what disposition she made of her property?
Cur. Not a whisper; the Squire is as close as an underground tomb; but one of the witnesses hinted to me that she had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling.
Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife.
Cur. And I in my own right; and this is no doubt the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer barrels. But here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. [Enter FRANK MILLINGTON.] Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has left you at last.
Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington.
Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value.
Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread.
Swipes. Ay, ay, or the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's boy, if you were not too old.
Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein.
Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [Going: He meets SQUIRE DRAWL.]
Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your presence. Good morning, gentlemen; you are early on the ground.
Cur. I hope the Squire is well to-day.
Squire. Pretty comfortable, for an invalid.
Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs again.
Squire. No, I believe not. But, since the heirs at law are all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last will and testament of your deceased relative, according to law.
Swipes. [While the SQUIRE is breaking the seal,] It is a trying thing to leave all one's possessions, Squire; in this manner.
Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look around and see everything but the venerable owner of these goods. Well did the Preacher say, "All is vanity."
Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his spectacles and begins to read slowly.] "Imprirmis; whereas, my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks, bonds, moneys, and property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler." [The SQUIRE here takes off his spectacles, and begins to wipe them very leisurely.]
Swipes. Generous creature! kind soul! I always loved her!
Cur. She was good, she was kind;--and, brother Swipes, when we divide, I think I'll take the mansion house.
Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife has long had her eye upon that, and must have it.
Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes. And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did I not lend her a new chaise every time she wished to ride? And who knows what influence--
Swipes. Am I not named first in her will? and did I not furnish her with my best small beer for more than six months? And who knows--
Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Going.] Squire. [Putting on his spectacles very deliberately.] Pray, gentlemen, keep your seats, I have not done yet. Let me see; where was I? Ay, "All my property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer,"--
Swipes. Yes!
Squire. "And Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler,"
Cur. Yes!
Squire. "To have and to hold, IN TRUST, for the sole and exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he shall have attained the age of twenty-one years, by which time I hope he will have so far reformed his evil habits, as that he may safely be intrusted with the large fortune which I hereby bequeath to him."
Swipes. What is all this? You don't mean that we are humbugged? In trust! How does that appear? Where is it?
Squire. There; in two words of as good old English as I ever penned.
Cur. Pretty well, too, Mr. Squire, if we must be sent for to be made a laughingstock of. She shall pay for every ride she has had out of my chaise, I promise you.
Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times, if two sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here to be made the sport of a graceless profligate. But we will manage his property for him, Mr. Currie; we will make him feel that trustees are not to be trifled with.
Cur. That we will.
Squire. Not so fast, gentlemen; for the instrument is dated three years ago; and the young gentleman must be already of age, and able to take care of himself. Is it not so, Francis?
Frank. It is, your worship. Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the breaking of the seal, according to law, you are released from any further trouble about the business.
DEFINITIONS.--Dis-po-si'tion, disposal. Grace'less, depraved, corrupt. Rep'ro-bate, one morally lost. Lack'ey, an attending servant, a footman. De-ceased', dead. Con-vened', met together, assembled. Im-pri'mis (Latin), in the first place. Chaise (pro. shaz), a kind of two-wheeled carriage. Re-formed', returned to a good state. Prof'li-gate, a person openly and shamelessly vicious. In'stru-ment (a term in law), a writing expressive of some act, con-tract, etc.
NOTES.--Terms having the same, or nearly the same, meaning, as, "will and testament," "give and bequeath," "to have and to hold," "sole and exclusive," are commonly joined in this way in legal documents.
Personal property usually consists of things temporary and movable, while real property includes things fixed and immovable such as lands and tenements.
LV. THE NOSE AND THE EYES.
William Cowper (b. 1731, d. 1800) was the son of an English clergyman, and was born in Great Berkhamstead, Hertfordshire, England. He was sent to Westminster School when he was ten years of age, and he remained there, a diligent student, eight years. He then studied law, and was admitted to the bar, but he never practiced his profession. He was appointed to a clerkship in the House of Lords when he was about thirty years old, but he never entered upon the discharge of his duties. He became insane, and was sent to a private asylum. After his recovery, he found a home in the family of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. On the death of this gentleman, he resided with the widow till her death--most of the time at Olney. His first writing's were published in 1782. "The Task," some hymns, a number of minor poems, and his translations or Homer, composed his published works. His insanity returned at times, and darkened a pure and gentle life at its close.
1. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose; The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong; The point in dispute was, as all the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
2. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause, With a great deal of skill and a wig full of learning, While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.
3. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has the spectacles always to wear, Which amounts to possession, time out of mind."
4. Then, holding the spectacles up to the court, "Your lordship observes, they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
5. "Again, would your lordship a moment suppose ('T is a case that has happened, and may happen again) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, Pray, who would or who could wear spectacles then?
6. "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."
7. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how), He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes: But what were his arguments, few people know, For the court did not think them equally wise.
8. So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or but, That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By daylight or candlelight,--Eyes should be shut.
DEFINITIONS.--2. Ar'gued, discussed, treated by reasoning. Dis-cern'ing (pro. diz-zern'ing), marking as different, distinguishing, 3. Be-half', support, defense. 8. De-creed', determined judicially by authority, ordered,
LVI. AN ICEBERG.
Louis Legrand Noble (b. 1813, d. 1882) was horn in Otsetgo County, New York. When twelve years of age, he removed with his family to the wilds of Michigan, but after the death of his father he returned to New York to study for the ministry, which he entered in 1840. About this time he published his first productions, two Indian romances in the form of poems, entitled "Pewatem" and "Nimahmin." Mr. Noble lived for a time in North Carolina, and later at Catskill on the Hudson, where he became a warm friend of the artist Cole. After the latter's death he wrote a memorial of him. Other works of this author are "The Hours, and other Poems," and "After Icebergs with a Painter," from which this selection is taken.
1. We have just passed a fragment of some one of the surrounding icebergs that had amused us. It bore the resemblance of a huge polar bear, reposing upon the base of an inverted cone, with a twist of a seashell, and whirling slowly round and round. The ever-attending green water, with its aerial clearness, enabled us to see its spiral folds and horns as they hung suspended in the deep.
2. The bear, a ten-foot mass in tolerable proportion, seemed to be regularly beset by a pack of hungry little swells. First, one would take him on the haunch, then whip back into the sea over his tail and between his legs. Presently a bolder swell would rise and pitch into his back with a ferocity that threatened instant destruction. It only washed his satin fleece the whiter.
3. While Bruin was turning to look the daring assailant in the face, the rogue had pitched himself back into his cave. No sooner that, than a very bulldog of a billow would attack him in the face. The serenity with which the impertinent assault was borne was complete. It was but a puff of silvery dust, powdering his mane with fresher brightness. Nothing would be left of bull but a little froth of all the foam displayed in the fierce onset. He too would turn and scud into his hiding place.
4. Persistent little waves! After a dash, singly, all around, upon the common enemy, as if by some silent agreement underwater, they would all rush on at once, with their loudest roar and shaggiest foam, and overwhelm poor bear so completely that nothing less might be expected than to behold him broken in four quarters, and floating helplessly asunder. Mistaken spectators! Although, by his momentary rolling and plunging, he was evidently aroused, yet neither Bruin nor his burrow was at all the worse for all the wear and washing.
5. The deep fluting, the wrinkled folds, and cavities, over and through which the green and silvery water rushed back into the sea, rivaled the most exquisite sculpture. And nature not only gives her marbles, with the finest lines, the most perfect lights and shades, she colors them also. She is no monochromist, but polychroic, imparting such touches of dove tints, emerald, and azure as she bestows upon her gems and skies.
6. We are bearing up under the big berg as closely as we dare. To our delight, what we have been wishing and watching for is actually taking place: loud explosions, with heavy falls of ice, followed by the cataract-like roar, and the high, thin seas, wheeling away beautifully crested with sparkling foam. If it is possible, imagine the effect upon the beholder: this precipice of ice, with tremendous cracking, is falling toward us with a majestic and awful motion.