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“Rash youth, that wouldst yon channel pass
On twigs and staves so rudely fashion'd,
Thy heart with some sweet English lass

Must be impassion'd.”
“I have no sweetheart,” said the lad;
“ But, absent years from one another,
Great was the longing that I had

To see my mother.”

“ And so thou shalt,” Napoleon said;
“ You've both my favour justly won;
A noble mother must have bred

So brave a son.”

He gave the tar a piece of gold,
And, with a flag of truce, commanded
He should be shipp'd to England old,

And safely landed.

Our sailor oft could scantly shift
To find a dinner, plain and hearty,
But never changed the coin and gift

Of Buonaparte.

1. In what light did the poet love to contemplate Napoleon ?

2. What is meant by his homicidal glory?

3. What freedom was our captive tar allowed ?

4. How far to Boulogne from Dover ? 5. Why, think you, would he watch the birds flying to England ?

6. Explain midnight watch.

7. What saw he floating towards him one morning ?

8. What did he make from the large cask?

9. State what his wretched wherry was deficient in.

10. To whom was the story told ?

11. What was Napoleon's usual attitude?

12. What did the Emperor think must have caused the sailor to make such a rash attempt ?

13. Give the exact words of the sailor's reply.

14. Repeat Buonaparte's reply to the tar.

15. Tell me how the sailor's mother had won Napoleon's favour.

16. How was the sailor's filial affection rewarded ?

17. How greatly did the sailor value the coin?

THE SAILOR'S MOTHER.

WORDSWORTH. Prime, adj. (L. primus). Dig'ni-ty, n. (L. dignus). Ma'tron, n. (L. mater).

Pro-tect’, part. (L. tectum, see tego).
ONE morning (raw it was and wet,
A foggy day in winter time),
A woman on the road I met,
Not old, though something past her prime;

Majestic in her person, tall and straight;
And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.

The ancient spirit is not dead, -
Old times, thought I, are breathing there;
Proud was I that my country bred
Such strength, a dignity so fair.

She begg'd an alms, like one in poor estate ;
I look'd at her again, nor did my pride abate.

When from these lofty thoughts I woke,
“ What is it," said I, “ that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your cloak,
Protected from this cold damp air?”

She answer'd, soon as she the question heard,
“ A simple burthen, sir-a little singing-bird."

And, thus continuing, she said,
“I had a son, who many a day
Sail'd on the seas, but he is dead;
In Denmark he was cast away:

And I have travell'd weary miles to see
If aught which he had own'd might still remain for me.

“ The bird and cage they both were his :
'Twas my son's bird ; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages
This singing-bird had gone with him;

When last he sail'd, he left the bird behind;
From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind.

“ He to a fellow-lodger's care
Had left it to be watch'd and fed,
And pipe its song in safety ;-there
I found it when my son was dead;

And now, God help me for my little wit!
I bear it with me, sir ;-he took so much delight in it.”

1. On what kind of morning did the poet meet the old woman?

2. Describe her appearance.

3. What thoughts were suggested by her appearance and manner?

4. What lofty thoughts are meant in Verse 3rd ?

5. What did the old woman carry beneath her cloak ?

6. What was her son, and where was he lost?

7. What had been the object of his mother's present jonrney?

8. With whom had the lad left the bird ?

9. What, did the mother say, might make him leave it behind ?

10. Why did she prize the bird so much, and carry it with her ?

DANGERS OF THE DEÉP.

SOUTHEY. Per'il-ous, adj. (L. periculum). In-cum'bent, adj. (L. in, cubo). A-vail', v. (L. ad, valeo).

Mar'i-ner, n. (L. mare).
'Tis pleasant by the cheerful hearth to hear
Of tempests, and the dangers of the deep,

And pause at times, and feel that we are safe ;
Then listen to the perilous tale again,
And with an eager and suspended soul,
Woo terror to delight us. But to hear
The roaring of the raging elements,-
To know all human skill, all human strength,
Avail not,—to look around, and only see
The mountain-wave incumbent, with its weight
Of bursting waters, o'er the reeling bark,-
Ah, me! this is indeed a dreadful thing;
And he who hath endured the horror once
Of such an hour, doth never hear the storm
Howl round his home but he remembers it,
And thinks upon the suffering mariner.

THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS.

LONGFELLOW.

L'éternité est une pendule, dont de balancier dit et redit sans ces cesse deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux: "Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours !". Taques Bridaine.

66

SOMEWHAT back from the village street
Stands the old-fashion'd country-seat.
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw;
And from its station in the hall
An ancient timepiece says to all,-

Forever-never!

Never-forever!"
Halfway up the stair it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands,
From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas !
With sorrowful voice to all who pass,-

“Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,
And seems to say, at each chamber-door,

“Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,

Through every swift vicissitude
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,-

“Forever-never !

Never-forever!”

In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;
His great fires up the chimney roar'd;
The stranger feasted at his board :
But, like the skeletons at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased,

“Forever-never !

Never-forever!"

There groups of merry children play'd,
There youths and maidens dreaming stray'd;
O precious hours! O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!
Even as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient timepiece told, -

Forever-never!
Never-forever!"

From that chamber, clothed in white,
The bride came forth on her wedding night;
There, in that silent room below,
The dead lay in his shroud of snow!
And in the hush that follow'd the prayer,
Was heard the old clock on the stair,-

“Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

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THE BLIND MOTHER.

N. P. WILLIS.
GENTLY, dear mother, here ;
The bridge is broken near thee, and below
The waters with a rapid current flow

Gently, and do not fear;
Lean on me, mother-plant thy staff before thee,
For she who loves thee most is watching o'er thee.

The green leaves as we pass
Lay their light fingers on thee unaware,
And by thy side the hazel clusters fair,

And the low forest grass
Grows green and lovely, where the wood-paths wind;
Alas, for thee, dear mother, thou art blind !

And nature is all bright;
And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn,
Like folded curtains from the day are drawn ;

And evening's dewy light
Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky,
Alas, dear mother, for thy clouded eye!

And the kind looks of friends
Peruse the sad expression in thy face,
And the child stops amid his bounding race,

And the tall stripling bends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot-
Alas, dear mother, that thou seest them not!

But thou canst hear-and love
May richly on a human tongue be pour’d,
And the slight cadence of a whisper'd word

A daughter's love may prove; And while I speak thou knowest if I smile, Albeit thou dost not see my face the while.

Yes—thou canst hear—and He Who on thy sightless eye its darkness hung, To the attentive ear like harps hath strung

Heaven, and earth, and sea! And 'tis a lesson in our hearts to know,

With but one sense the soul may overflow! 1. Why does the daughter caution her 10. In what kind of tones are feelings mother to walk softly now?

of love and affection generally uttered ? 2. What is here said of the green leaves ? 11. What in the daughter's voice be3. What is said of the hazel?

trays her love for her mother? 4. What of the forest grass?

12. Wherefo does the daughter repeat 5. What of the morning light and of the these words, “thou canst hear"? evening light?

13. In what is God here shown to be 6. Wherefore does the daughter grieve good to the blind? amidst these beauties of nature ?

14. Name the five senses. 7. How do the blind mother's friends 15. How should those feel who possess show their sympathy?

all their external senses ? 8. How does the child that meets her act? 16. How should we ever act towards 9. How does the stripling act ?

the blind?

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