Beautiful fictions of our fathers, woven
In Superstition's web when Time was young,
And fondly loved and cherished; they are flown
Before the wand of Science! Hills and vales,
Mountains and moors of Devon, ye have lost
The enchantments, the delights, the visions all,
The elfin visions that so blessed the sight
In the old days romantic. Nought is heard
Now in the leafy world but earthly strains-
Voices, yet sweet, of breeze, and bird, and brook,
And waterfall; the day is silent else,

And night is strangely mute! the hymnings high-
The immortal music men of ancient times

Heard ravished oft, are flown!a O ye have lost,
Mountains, and moors, and meads, the radiant throngs
That dwelt in your green solitudes, and filled
The air, the fields, with beauty and with joy
Intense; with a rich mystery that awed
The mind, and flung around a thousand hearths
Divinest tales, that through the enchanted year
Found passionate listeners!

The very streams
Brightened with visitings of these so sweet

Ethereal creatures! They were seen to rise

From the charmed waters, which still brighter grew
As the pomp passed the land, until the eye
Scarce bore the unearthly glory. Where they trod,
Young flowers, but not of this world's growth, arose,
And fragrance, as of amaranthine bowers,
Floated upon the breeze.-N. T. Carrington.

The swallow, privileg'd above the rest

Of all the birds as man's familiar guest,
Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold,
But wisely shuns the persecuting cold;

Is well to chancels and to chimneys known,
Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone.
From hence she has been held of heavenly line,
Endued with particles of soul divine;

This merry chorister had long possessed
Her summer seat, and feathered well her nest,
Till frowning skies began to change their cheer,
And time turned up the wrong side of the year;
And shedding trees began the ground to strow,
With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow;

a See "Remark," p. 92.

Such auguries of winter thence she drew,
Which by instinct or prophecy she knew;
When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes,
And seek a better heaven and warmer climes.
Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height,
And call'd in common council, vote a flight.

The day was nam'd, the next that should be fair;

All to the general rendezvous repair;

They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air.
Who but the swallow now triumphs alone?

The canopy of heaven is all her own:

Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair,
And glide along in glades, and swim in air,

And dip for insects in the purling springs,

And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings.-Dryden.

[Rem. 9.] George performed the act without having been requested. By so doing he gained the good will of his former enemy. The bars did not prevent the prisoner from escaping. Thomas is employed in cutting wood.

One of the greatest arts of escaping superfluous uneasiness, is to free our minds from the habit of comparing our condition with that of others on whom the blessings of life are more bountifully bestowed, or with imaginary states of delight and security, perhaps unattainable by mortals.-Johnson.

Let us read with method, and propose to ourselves an end to which all our studies may point. Through neglect of this rule, gross ignorance often disgraces great readers; who, by skipping hastily and irregularly from one subject to another, render themselves incapable of combining their ideas. So many detached parcels of knowledge cannot form a whole. This inconstancy weakens the energies of the mind, creates in it a dislike to application, and even robs it of the advantages of natural good sense. Yet let us avoid the contrary extreme, and respect method without rendering ourselves its slaves. -Gibbon.

I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
And bear the marks upon a blushing face

Of needless shame and self-imposed disgrace.

Our sensibilities are so acute,

The fear of being silent makes us mute.-Cowper.

[Rem. 2.] John is about to speak. The country is about to be ruined. Lucinda is about to sleep. The house was about to be burned. The time was about to expire when William entered.

[Rem. 3.] He entered at once upon the performance of his duties. This state of uncertainty cannot last for ever. This blessing came from above. Life went a-maying a

With Nature, Hope, and Poesy

When I was young.

When I was young? Ah, woful when:

Ah for the change 'twixt now and then!-Coleridge.

a This is the present participle of to may; a is a corruption of the preposition on, but a-may-ing is now to be parsed simply as maying. Alive, asleep, etc., have the same origin.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting,
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar;

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.- Wordsworth.

This gentleman came from beyond the sea. The weasel ran from under the bridge. A voice came from within the tower.

[Rem. 4.] His decision will depend very much on who makes the application. A controversy has arisen about how it was done.

Horror and doubt distract

His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir

The hell within him; for within him hell

He brings, and round about him, and from hell

One step a no more than from himself can fly

By change of place. Now conscience wakes despair
That slumbered, wakes the bitter memory

Of what he was, what is, and what must be.-Milton.

[Rem. 5.] I will give this book to whoever wants it. He devotes himself entirely to whatever interests him. You furnished him with what he desired. John is fond of whatever you like. This paper belongs to whoever owns the book. I am much pleased with what he has done. William inferred this from what you said.

[Rem. 6.]

From peak to peak, the rattling clouds among,
Leaps the live thunder.-Byron.

No prophet-bards, the glittering courts among,
Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song.-Heber.

Come, walk with me the jungle through

If yonder hunter told us true,"

Far off, in desert dank and rude,

The tiger holds its solitude.-Heber.

[Rem. 7.] George

three months.

a Rule x., Rem. 7.

They sat in silent watchfulness,

The sacred cypress tree about,

And from the wrinkled brows of age

Their failing eyes looked out.- Whittier.

The cock with lively din

Scatters the rear of darkness thin,

And to the stack or the barn-door

Stoutly struts his dames before.-Milton.

went home three days ago, having remained here

Two days, as many nights he slept,

Alone, unnoticed, and unwept.

b Rule ii., Rem. 8.

Mean while a the Son of God, who yet some days
Lodged in Bethabara where John baptized,
Musing and much revolving b in his breast,
How best the mighty work he might begin
Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first
Publish his god-like office now mature,
One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leading,
And his deep thoughts the better to converse c
With solitude, till far from track of men,

Thought following thought, and step by stepd led on,
He entered now the bordering desert wild.-Milton.
Launch thy bark, Mariner!

Christian, God speed e thee!

Let loose the rudder bands,

Good angels lead e thee!

Set thy sail warily,

Tempests will come;

Steer thy course steadily,

Christian, steer home.-Mrs. Southey.

Nine times f the spaces that measures day and night

“To mortal men, he with his horrid crew

Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded though immortal.-Milton.

[Rem. 8.] Soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer.

This book is worth its weight in gold. The work is well worth the price
that is demanded for it.

The good man is now near the time of his departure.

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose.-Goldsmith.
Life, like a dome of many-colored glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity.-Shelley.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.-Longfellow.

A better prize

There is for man, a glory of this world
Well worth the labor of the blessed, won
By arduous deeds of righteousness, that bring
Solace or wisdom, or the deathless boon

Of holy freedom to his fellow men,
And praise to the Almighty.-Herbert.

a While is here a noun.
c Rule xii., Rem. 3.

b Rule ix., Rem. 1, and Rule xiii.

d When two nouns, connected by a preposition, serve to denote the manner of the
action or state distributively, the first is usually put in the objective without a prepo-
sition; as, "The hounds tore him limb from limb," "The money was distributed
among them man by man."

e See Remark 4, p. 77.

f Degree of difference.

& Time.

RULE XI.

The crafty person is the last man that finds himself to be found out.— Tillotson.

He did what he believed to be wrong. He took a course which the event showed to have been taken too hastily.

A wise man will make haste to forgive, because he knows the true value of time, and will not suffer it to pass away in unnecessary pain.-Johnson. Clarendon allows his demeanor through the whole proceeding to have been such, that even those who watched for an occasion against the defender of the people, were compelled to acknowledge themselves a unable to find any fault in him.-T. B. Macaulay.

That German intellect has been fairly appreciated among us, we believe to be mainly owing to Carlyle's persevering efforts. b

That he was the author of the work, we believe to have been the opinion of all his friends.

Zeal for what he regarded as truth, undaunted intrepidity to maintain his own system, abilities, both natural and acquired, to defend his principles, and unwearied industry in propagating them, are virtues which shine so conspicuously in every part of his behavior, that even his enemies must allow him to have possessed them in an eminent degree.-Robertson.

One word is too often profaned

For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdain'd
For me to disdain it.

One hope is too like despair

For prudence to smother,

And pity from thee is more dear

Than that d from another.-Shelley.

Retiree we to our chamber;

A little water clears us of this deed

How easy is it then? Your constancy

Hath left you unattended. Hark, more knocking! f

Get on your night gown, lest occasion call us,

And show us to be watchers.-Shakspeare.

RULE XII.

We are as prone to make a torment of our fears, as g to luxuriate in our hopes of good.-Hazlitt.

At every trifle scorn to take offence;

That always shows great pride or little sense.-Pope.

a Rule xii., Rem. 8.

b The clause, "That German intellect has been fairly appreciated among us," is the subject of the infinitive mood to be.

c The preposition for shows the relation between too often and me to profane it. d See note on that, p. 40.

e Seo Rem. 4, p. 77.

Rule xvi., Rem. 3.