And louder and shriller it rose again, Like the fearful cry of the mad with pain; And trembled alike the timid and brave, For they knew that it came from the hunter's grave; 11. And, every year, when autumn flings Its beautiful robe on creäted things, That cry is heard from the grave-yard earth, WHITTIER. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, one of the truest and most worthy of American poets, was born near Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1808. Of a Quaker family, his youth was passed at home, assisting his father on the farm, and attending the district school and Haverhill Academy, In 1823 he went to Boston, and became editor of a newspaper entitled the " American Manufacturer," and in 1830 he succeeded George D. Prentice as editor of the "New England Weekly Review," at Hartford, and remained connected with it for two years. For several years he was corresponding editor of the Washington "National Era." He has been a prolific and popular writer both in prose and verse. A complete edition of his poems, in two volumes, appeared in 1863; "Snow-Bound, a Winter Idyl," in 1866; "The Tent on the Beach, and other Poems," in 1867; "Among the Hills, and other Poems," in 1868; and "Miriam, and other Poems," in 1870. In 1840 Mr. Whittier removed to Amesbury, Massachusetts, where all his later publications have been written, and where he still resides. LET SECTION IV. I. 11. THE BASHFUL MAN. ET him who has never suffered from the horrors of bashfulness pass by this article. He will find nothing here with which he can sympathize. But he who knows the ex'quisite" misery of a temperament whose věry nature almost shuts him out from human sympathy,' while it opens upon him the full 1 Pisċăt'aqua River is formed by the waters of Salmon Falls, the Cocheco, and several other streams in Strafford Co., N. H. It runs a S. S. E. course, and falls into the Atlantic Ocean near Portsmouth. 2 Exquisite (ěks' kwi zit), carefully selected or sought out; hence, very nice; very great; giving rare satisfaction. 3 Sym' pa thy, kindness of feeling toward sufferers; fellow-feeling. sluices of laughter and ridicule-he only should read, for he only can understand, this chapter of my sufferings. 2. I had taken a letter of introduction from a friend to a genteel family in Paris, and, having delivered it, was, after a few days, invited to dinner. After various awkward mishaps, arising from my bashfulness, we were finally seated at table, my place being next a young lady whom I was expected to entertain. The ordinary routine' of a French dinner now commenced; soup and fish, fowl and flesh; while a regular series of servants appeared each instant at our elbows, inviting us to partake of a thousand different dishes, and as many different kinds of wines, all under strings of unknown names. 3. Resolved to avoid all further opportunities for displaying my predominant trait, I sat in the most obstinate silence, saying "yes" to every thing that was offered me, and eating with most devoted application. But "let no one call himself happy before death," said Sōlon; and he said wisely. The "ides of March "* were not yet over. Before us was set a dish of cauliflower, nicely done in butter. This I naturally enough took for a custard-pudding, which it sufficiently resembled. 3 4. Unfortunately my vocabulary was not yet extensive enough to embrace all the technicalities of the table; and when my fair neighbor inquired if I was fond of cauliflower, I verily thought that she was asking my opinion of custard-pudding; and so high was my panegyrics on it that my plate was soon bountifully laden with it. Alas! one single mouthful was enough to dispel my illusion. Would to Heaven that the cauliflower had vanished likewise! But that remained bodily; and, as I gazed despond 1 Routine (ro tēn'), a round of business, amusements, or pleasure, daily or often followed; any regular course of action strictly kept by the mere force of habit. 2 Pre dom' i nant, prevalent over others; controlling; ruling. Sō' lon, the Athenian lawgiver, born about 638 B. C., died in Athens about 559. The extant fragments of his poems are usually contained in the Greek gnomic poets, and there is a separate edition by Bach [Leyden, 1825]. 4 Ides of March, an allusion to the death of Cæsar. Ides, the 15th day of March, May, July, and October, and the 13th day of the other months. ' Păn`e gyr' iċ, a speech or writing in praise of some distinguished person, or great or heroic deed; a discourse in praise of something; formal praise. ingly at the huge mass, that loomed up almost as large and as burning as Vesuvius, my heart died within me. 5. Ashamed to confess my mistake, though I could almost as readily have swallowed an equal quantity of soft soap, I struggled manfully on against the disgusting compound. I endeavored to sap the mountainous heap at its base; and, shutting my eyes and opening my mouth, I inhumed as large masses as I could, without stopping to taste it. But my stomach soon began, intelligibly enough, to intimate its intention to admit no more of this nauseous' stranger beneath its roof, if not even of expelling that which had already gained unwelcome admittance. 6. The seriousness of the task I had undertaken, and the resolution necessary to execute it, had given an earnestness and rapidity to my exertions, which appetite would not have inspired; when my plate, having somehow got over the edge of the table, upon my leaning forward, tilted up, and down slid the disgusting mass into my lap. My handkerchief, unable to bear so weighty a load, bent under in its turn; and a great proportion of it was thus safely deposited in my hat. 7. The plate instantly righted itself as I raised my person; and as I glanced my eye round the table, and saw that no one had noticed my disaster, I inwardly congratulated myself that the nauseous deception was so happily disposed of. Resolving not to be detected, I instantly rolled my handkerchief together, with all its remaining contents, and whipped it into my pocket. 8. The dinner-table was at length deserted for the drawingroom, where coffee and cordiäls were served round. Meantime I dared not carry my hat longer in my hand; I had therefore sought out what I considered a safe hiding-place for it, beneath a chair in the dining-room; having first thrown a morsel of paper into the crown, to hide the cauliflower from view, should any one chance, in looking for his own hat, to look into mine. 9. On my return to the drawing-room, I chanced to be again scated by the lady by whom I had sat at dinner. Our conversation was naturally resumed; and we were in the midst of an animated discussion, when a huge spider was seen running, like 1 Nauseous (nå' shus), disgusting; causing sickness of the stomach. Disaster (diz ăs' ter), an unfor tunate event, especially a sudden misfortune; calamity; as, he met with disasters on the road. a race-horse, up her arm. "Take it off, take it off!" she ejaculated in a terrified tone. I was always afraid of spiders; so, to avoid touching him with my hand, I caught my handkerchief from my pocket, and clapped it at once upon the miscreänt, who was already mounting over her temple with rapid strides. 10. Most unlucky act! I had forgotten the cauliflower; which was now plastered over her face, like an emollient' poultice, fairly killing the spider, and blinding an eye of the lady; while little streamlets of soft butter glided gently down her beautiful neck and bosom. "Oh! my head!-my face!" exclaimed the astonished fair. "What is it?" was echoed from ěvèry mouth. "Have you cut your head?" inquired one. "No! no! the spider! the spider! The gentleman has killed a spider!""What a quantity of bowels!" ejaculated an astonished Frenchman, unconsciously to himself. 11. Well might he be astonished. The spray of the execrable2 vegetable had spattered her dress from head to foot. For myself, the moment the accident occurred I had mechanically returned my handkerchief to my pocket; but its contents remained. "What a monster it must have been!" observed a young lady, as she helped to relieve my victim from her cruel situation. “I declare I should think he had been living on cauliflower!" the disaster I dress, and saw 12. At that moment I felt some one touch me; and, turning, I saw my companion who had come with me. "Look at your pantaloons," he whispered. Already half-dead at had caused, I cast my eyes upon my once white at a glance the horrible extent of my dilemma. I had been sitting upon the fated pocket, and had crushed out the liquid butter and the soft, paste-like vegetable, which had daubed and dripped down till it seemed as if I were actually dissolving in my clothes. 13. Darting from the spot, I sprang to the place where I had left my hat, but before I could reach it a sudden storm of wrath was heard at the door. A swelling volume of angry ejaculations rolling like a watchman's rattle, and mingled with epithets and 1 Emollient (e mŏl' yent), making of things in which evils or obstacles supple; softening. 2 Ex' e ċrā ble, very hateful; deserving a curse. present themselves on every side, and it is difficult to determine what course to pursue; a difficult or doubt 3 Dilemma (di lěm' må), a state ful choice. names that an angry Frenchman never spares, was heard rising like a fierce tempest without the door. Suddenly there was a pause a gurgling sound as of one swallowing involuntarily— and the storm of wrath again broke out with redoubled fury. 14. I seized a hat, and opened the door, and the whōle matter was at once explained. By mistake a gentleman had taken my hat, and there he was, the soft cauliflower gushing down his cheeks, blinding his eyes, filling his mouth, hair, mustaches,' ears, and whiskers. Never shall I forget that spectacle. There he stood astride like the Colossus, and stooping gently forward, his eyes forcibly closed, his arms held drooping out from his body, and dripping cauliflower and butter at every pōre! I stayed no longer; but, retaining his hat, I rushed from the house, jumped into a hack, and arrived safe at home; heartily resolving, that to my last hour I would never again deliver a letter of introduction. GRAY. THOMAS GRAY was born in London in 1716. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge. When his college education was completed, Horace Walpole induced him to accompany him in a tour through France and Italy; but a misunderstanding taking place, Gray returned to England in 1741. His father being dead, he went to Cambridge to take his degree in civil law, though he was possessed of sufficient means to enable him to dispense with the labor of his profession. He settled himself at Cambridge for the remainder of his days, only leaving home when he made tours to Wales, Scotland, and the lakes of Westmoreland, and when he passed three years in London for access to the library of the British Museum. His life thenceforth was that of a scholar. His "Ode to Eton College," published in 1747, attracted little notice; but the "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," which appeared in 1749, became at once, as it will always continue to be, one of the most popular of all poems. Most of his odes were written in the course of three years following 1753; and the publication of the collection in 1757 fully established his reputation. His poems, flowing from an intense, though not fertile imagination, inspired by the most delicate poetic feeling, and elaborated into exquisite terseness of diction, are among the most splendid ornaments of English literaturc. His "Letters," published after his death, are admirable specimens of English style, full of, quiet humor, astute though fastidious criticism, and containing some of the most picturesque pieces of descriptive composition in the language. He became professor of modern history at Cambridge, in 1758. He died by a severe attack of the gout in 1771. II. 12. THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA. Do you know the old that of the of the S O you know the Old Man of the Sea, of the Sea? If you haven't been caught, you will be, you will be; 1 Mustaches (mus tåsh' ez). especially that at Rhodes, which stood at the mouth of the harbor. |