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168

SPEECH OF LORD CHATHAM,

173

THE RED DEER OF SCOTLAND,

Scrope,

176

SUNRISE AND SUNSET IN THE WOODS,

Gilpin,

178

A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY,

Addison,

182

MARIA-PART I., .

Sterne,

186

MARIA-PART II.,.

Sterne,

188

CHARACTER OF GEORGE WASHINGTON,

Jefferson,

190

POPE TO BISHOP ATTERBURY IN THE TOWER, Pope,

192

PUNISHMENT OF A SPY,

Scott,

194

A HURRICANE IN AMERICA,

Audubon,

197

MARIE ANTOINETTE, QUEEN OF FRANCE,

Burke,

201

THE ORIGIN OF ROAST PIG,

Lamb,

202

THE CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, Channing,

207

EXECUTION OF ARCHBISHOP CRANMER,

Hume,

210

JAMES WATT AND THE STEAM-ENGINE,

Jeffrey,

212

VALUE OF ATTENTION,

Dickens,

214

THE RISING OF THE WATERS,

Galt,

216

SPEECH ON NEGRO SLAVERY,

Brougham,

220

THE BROKEN HEART,

Washington Irving, 221


PART I.

HUMAN LIFE.

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[SAMUEL ROGERS, born 1763, was a banker in London. His best

known work' is the “Pleasures of Memory,” published in 1792. Besides this poem, he is the author of “Poems, published in 1812, and “ Italy,” published in 1822. He

died 18th December, 1855.]
1. The lark has sung his carol in the sky;

The bees have hummed their noontide lullaby;
Still in the vale the village-bells ring round,
Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound;
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,
Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer,
And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire

The babe, the sleeping image of his sire. 2. A few short years—and then these sounds shall bail

The day again, and gladness fill the vale;
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.
Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin,
The ale, new brewed, in floods of amber shine.
And, basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,

“'Twas on these knees he sat so oft and smiled.” 3. And soon again shall music swell the breeze;

Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sur And violets scattered round; and old and young,

In every cottage porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene ;
While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
Moves in her virgin veil the gentle bride.

4. And once, alas ! nor in a distant hour,

Another voice shall come from yonder tower ;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weeping 's heard where only joy has been ;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,
He rests in holy earth with them that went before.

5. And such is Human Life ;--so gliding on,

It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone !
Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
As full methinks of wild and wondrous change,
As any that the wandering tribes require,
Stretched in the desert round their evening fire;
As any sung of old in hall or bower
To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour!

SAMUEL ROGERS.

Caudle-cup-i.l., A cup for holding caudle, which was a

liquor made with water, oatmeal, spices, and a small

dash of wine, used on the occasion of a birth in a family. Gossips.Gossip comes from the Anglo-Saxon god-sibbe,

meaning kin through God. “Our Christian ancestors, understanding a spiritual affinity to grow between the parents and such as undertook for the child at baptism, called each other by the name of god-sibthat is, kin through God; and the child, in like manner, called such his godfather and godmother.” The word is now used to describe any one who repeats the news or small

scandal of society: Holy earth.—Churchyards in England are consecrated by

special religious services. Wandering tribes.-Such as the Bedouin Arabs, or other

nomadic tribes, who delight in telling tales when encamped round the evening fire.

THE BELL OF THE ATLANTIC.

[MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY was an American lady, who wrote a

variety of works in prose and verse. She was born 1st September, 1791, and died 10th June, 1865. She resided for many years in Hartford, Connecticut.

The steamboat Atlantic, plying between Norwich, in
Connecticut, and New York, was wrecked on an island near
New London. Many of the passengers were on their way
to join in the celebration of the annual Thanksgiving in
New England. The bell of this boat, supported by a portion
of the wreck, continued for many days and nights to toll as
if in mournful requiem of the lost.]
1. Toll, toll, toll,

Thou bell by billows swung ;
And, night and day, thy warning words,

Repeat with mournful tongue !
Toll for the queenly boat,

Wrecked on yon rocky shore !
Sea-weed is in her palace halls ;

She rides the surge no more.

2. Toll for the master bold,

The high-souled and the brave,
Who ruled her like a thing of life

Amid the crested wave!
Toll for the hardy crew,

Sons of the storm and blast,
Who long the tyrant ocean dared ;

But it vanquished them at last.
3. Toll for the man of God,

Whose hallowed voice of prayer
Rose calm above the stifled groan

Of that intense despair !
How precious were those tones

On that sad verge of life,
Amid the fierce and freezing storm,

And the mountain billows' strife!

4. Toll for the lover lost

To the summoned bridal train !
Bright glows a picture on his breast,

Beneath th' unfathomed main.
One from her casement gazeth

Long o'er the misty sea :
He cometh not, pale maiden-

His heart is cold to thee. 5. Toll for the absent sire,

Who to his home drew near,
To bless a glad expecting group-

Fond wife and children dear!
They heap the blazing hearth;

The festal board is spread ;
But a fearful guest is at the gate :

Room for the pallid dead ! 6. Toll for the loved and fair,

The whelmed beneath the tide-
The broken harps around whose strings

The dull sea-monsters glide !
Mother and nursling sweet,

Reft from the household throng;
There's bitter weeping in the nest

Where breathed their soul of song. 7. Toll for the hearts that bleed

'Neath misery's furrowing trace!
Toll for the hapless orphan left,

The last of all his race !
Yea, with thy heaviest knell,

From surge to rocky shore,
Toll for the living --not the dead,

Whose mortal woes are o'er ! 8. Toll, toll, toll,

O’er breeze and billow free,
And with thy startling lore instruct

Each rover of the sea :

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