Sivut kuvina

sed like the shadow of a cloud upon a Highland glenlike the ruffling of the wind upon a Highland lake. The castle, the loch, the river, the cliff-every field, every

hill, every spot, and almost every bush, had its note of 15 recollection, and its tribute of praise,

There is something exquisite in this — something which the inhabitants of thronged cities, cannot appreciate. But in the patriarchal land of the north, there is

or there was, ere avarice laid it waste, or the love of 20 money made it a desolation--a love of every thing that

was, as well as of every thing that is. The same ancient stone which sheltered the sire, shelters the son; against the tree which his father planted, no man will

lift up an axe; and the resting-place of the departed is 25 sacred as long as life warms a heart, which was present

when they were laid in the dust. In a great city, man, dependent on his own exertions, following the bent of his own passions or appetites, and reckless of every grat

ification but those of himself, is disjointed from man. 30 The tenants of the same roof, know not the names of

each other, and to be parted by one paltry brick, makes a separation as complete, as though they dwelt at the antipodes. Not only is man disjointed from man, but age

is disjointed from age. The people who inhabit a street 35 or a square, now know nothing and care nothing about

those who inhabited it immediately before; and their brief memorial will be as quickly blotted out by the persons whom chance may afterwards place in the same

situation. Thus, while the great city brings the bodies 40 of men together, it scatters their minds, breaks all the

ties and links of sympathetic society, and piles up its tens and hundreds of thousands, (to all intents and purposes of deep feeling and delightful intercourse,) like

the cold, hard, unadhering and unconnected particles of 45 a mountain of sand, which the wind of whim, or chance,

or commerce, may whisk about just as the sand particles by the Red Sea are whisked about on the wings of the deadly saniel. In the retirement of the country,

and especially in that country from which our humble 50 visiters have come, and to which our lovely heroine is

looking, it is not so. There man is united to man, and age is linked with age, in the closest ties of friendship, the most delightful bonds of sympathy, the most touching

reminiscences of sorrow, and the fondest anticipations 55 of hope. If a man would eat, drink, die, and be for

gotten, let his dwelling place be in the city: if he would live, love, and be remembered, let him speed him to the glens of the mountains.

Exercise 102.

Summary Punishment.-Walter Scott. It was under the burning influence of revenge that the wife of MacGregor commanded that the hostage exchanged for her husband's safety should be brought into her presence.

I believe her sons had kept this 5 unfortunate wretch out of her sight, for fear of the conse

quences; but if it was so, their humane precaution only postponed his fate. They dragged forward at her summons a wretch already half dead with terror, in whose

agonized features I recognised, to my horror and as10 tonishment, my old acquaintance Morris.

He fell prostrate before the female chief, with an effort to clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if his touch had been pollution, so that all he could do in

token of the extremity of his humiliation, was to kiss 15 the hem of her plaid. I never heard entreaties for life

poured forth with such agony of spirit. The ecstasy of fear was such, that, instead of paralyzing his tongue, as on ordinary occasions, it even rendered him eloquent;

and, with cheeks as pale as ashes, hands compressed in 20 agony, eyes that seemed to be taking their last look of

all mortal objects, he prayed but for life --- for life he would give all he had in the world;—it was but life he asked-life, if it were to be prolonged under tortures and

privations:-he asked only breath, though it should be 25 drawn in the depths of the lowest caverns of their hills.

It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, and contempt, with which the wife of MacGregor regarded this wretched petitioner for the poor boon of ex

istence. 30 She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants,

two of whom seized upon the prostrate suppliant, and hurried him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the flood. He set up the most piercing and dreadful cries,

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that fear ever uttered—I may well term them dreadful, 35 for they haunted my sleep for years afterwards.

I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that, although in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I did attempt to speak in his behalf, but, as might have

been expected, my interference was sternly disregard40 ed. The victim was held fast by some, while others,

binding a large heavy stone in a plaid, tied it round his neck, and others again, eagerly stripped him of some part of his dress. Half-naked, and thus manacled, they

hurried him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, 45 drowning his last death-shriek with a loud halloo of vin

dictive triumph, over which, however, the yell of mortal agony was distinctly heard. The heavy burden splashed in the dark blue waters of the lake, and the High

landers, with their pole-axes and swords, watched an in50 stant, to guard, lest, extricating himself from the load

to which he was attached, he might have struggled to regain the shore. But the knot had been securely bound; the victim sunk without effort; the waters

which his fall had disturbed, settled calmly over him, 55 and the unit of that life for which he had pleaded so

strongly, was forever withdrawn from the sum of human existence,

Exercise 103.

On the receipt of his Mother's Picture.-Cowper.

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, the jessamine,

I pricked them into paper with a pin, -
5 (And thou wast happier than myself the while,

Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile,)--
Could those few pleasant days again appear,
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?

I would not trust my heart—the dear delight 10 Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.

But, no—what here we call our life is such,
So little to be loved, and thou so much,
That I should ill requite thee to constrain

Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
15 Thou as a gallant bark from Albion's coast,

(The storms all weathered, and the ocean crossed,)
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,

There sits quiescent on the floods, that show 20 Her beauteous form reflected clear below,

While airs impregnated with incense play
Around her fanning light her streamers gay;
So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,

“Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar," 25 And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide

Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distressed-

Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, 30 Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,

And day by day some current's thwarting force,
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
Yet, О the thought, that thou art safe, and he!

That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 35 My boast is not, that I deduce my birth

From loins enthroned, and rulers of the Earth;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise-
The son of parents, passed into the skies.


Extract from " The Grave.”-MONTGOMERY.
1 There is a calm for those who weep;

A rest for weary pilgrims found:
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,

Low in the ground!

2 The storm that wrecks the winter sky,

No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summe

mer-evening's latest sigh,

That shuts the rose.

3 I long to lay this painful head,

And aching heart, beneath the soil;
To slumber in that dreamless bed,

From all my toil.

4 Art thou a wanderer?--hast thou seen

O'erwhelming tempests drown thy bark?
A shipwrecked sufferer hast thou been,

Misfortune's mark?

5 Though long of winds and waves the sport,

Condemned in wretchedness to roam,
Live! thou shalt reach a sheltering port,

A quiet home!
6 There is a calm for those who weep!

A rest for weary pilgrims found:
And while the mouldering ashes sleep

Low in the ground;-
7 The soul, of origin Divine,

God's glorious image, freed from clay,
In Heaven's eternal sphere shall shine

A star of day!
8 The sun, is but a spark of fire,

A transient meteor in the sky;
The soul, immortal as its Sire,

Shall never die!

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EXERCISE 105. Defence of Johnson.-CURRAN. Even if it should be my client's fate to be surrendered to his keepers—to be torn from his family—to have his obsequies performed by torch light--to be carried

to a foreign land, and to a strange tribunal, where no 5 witness can attest his innocence, where no voice that

he ever heard can be raised in his defence, where he must stand mute, not of his own malice, but the malice of his enemies-yes, even so, I see nothing for him to fear;

--that all-gracious Being, that shields the feeble from the 10 oppressor, will fill his heart with and confidence,

and courage; his sufferings will be his armour, and his weakness will be his strength. He will find himself in the hands of a brave, a just, and a generous nation—he

will find that the bright examples of her Russels and 15 her Sydneys have not been lost to her children. They

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