4. The conversation of the latter reminds one of "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war." It was, indeed,1 a perpetual contest for victory, or an arbitrary and despotic exaction of homage to his superior talents.

5. It was strong, acute, prompt, splendid and vociferous; as loud, stormy and sublime as those winds which he represents as shaking the Hebrides, and rocking the old castle that frowned upon the dark rolling sea beneath.

6. But one gets tired of storms, however sublime they may be, and longs for the more orderly current of nature. Of Franklin no one ever became tired. There was no ambition of eloquence, no effort to shine, in any thing which came from him. There was nothing which made any demand either upon your allegiance or your admiration.

7. His manner was as unaffected as infancy. It was nature's self. He talked like an old patriarch; and his plainness and simplicity put you at once at your ease, and gave you the full and free possession and use of all your faculties.

8. His thoughts were of a character to shine by their own light, without any adventitious aid. They required only a medium of vision, like his pure and simple style, to exhibit to the highest advantage, their native radianco and beauty. His cheerfulness was unintermitting.

9. It seemed to be as much the effect of the systematic and salutary exercise of the mind as of its superior organization.

His wit was of the first order; it did not show itself merely in occasional coruscations; but, without any effort or force on his part, it shed a constant stream of the purest light over the whole of his discourses.

1 Rule XXI, Rem. 13

10. Whether in company of the common people or nobles, he was always the same plain man; always most perfectly at his ease, his faculties in full play, and the full orbit of his genius forever clear and unclouded. And then the stores of his mind were inexhaustible.

11. He had commenced life with an attention so vigilant, that nothing had escaped his observation; and a judgment so solid, that every incident was turned to advantage. His youth had not been wasted in idleness, nor overcast by intemperance.

12. He had been, all his life,1 a close and deep reader, as well as thinker; and, by the force of his own powers, had wrought up the raw materials, which he had gathered from books, with such exquisite skill and felicity, that he had added a hundred fold to their original value, and justly made them his own.

CHAPTER VIII.

RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.—[MITFORD.]
I come not here to talk. Ye know too well
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave, not such as3, swept along

By the full tide of power,

*

the

5

conqueror led

To crimson glory and undying fame;

But base ignoble slaves*— slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots! lords*

Rich in some dozen paltry villages

Strong in some hundred spearmen-only great*

10

1 Rule X. 2 Rule XXIII Rem. 5. 3 Rule XXIII, Rem. 3. *What words are to be supplied to complete the sentence?

In that strange spell

- a name.

I that speak to ye,❤

I had a brother once -a gracious boy,

Full of gentleness, of calmest hope,

Of sweet and quiet joy; "there was the look
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
To the beloved disciple. How I loved
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother, at once, and son! "He left my side,
A summer bloom2 on his fair cheeks, a smile
Parting his innocent lips." In one short hour
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw
The corse, the mangled corse! and then I cried
For vengeance.

5

10

Rouse, ye Romans!3 Rouse, ye slaves

Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl 16
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call4 for justice,
Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome,
That sat on seven hills, and, from her throne

20

Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans!
Why,5 in that elder day, to be a Roman

Was greater than a king! And once again,

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread

Of either Brutus!

-

once again, I swear,

The eternal city shall be free, her sons

Shall walk with princes.

25

1 Rule I. 2 Rule XII. supply the participle being. 3 Rule XIII.

4 Rule XIX. 5 Rule XXI, Rem. 13. Rule IV. Rem. I.

*Ye is rarely used in the objective case.

HE MINSTREL.-BEATTIE.]

I.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar;
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime,
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war;
Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown
And l'overty's unconquerable bar,

In life's low vale remote has pired alone,

Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

II.

And yet, the languor of inglorious days

5

10

Not equally oppressive is to all:

Him, who ne'er listened to the voice of praise,

The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.

There are, who deaf to mad Ambition's call

14

Would shrink to hear the obstreperous trump of Fame;

Supremely blessed, if to their portion fall

Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher ain

Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaiın.

III.

'The rolls of fame I will not now explore;

Nor need I here describe in learned lay,
How forth the minstrel fared in days of yore,
Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
His waving locks and beard all hoary gray :
While, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
His harp, the sole companion of his way,
Which to the whistling wind responsive rung;
And ever, as he went, some merry lay he sung,

20

25

IV.

Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride,
That a poor villager insĮ ires my strain;
With thee let Pageantry and Power abide:
The gentle Muses haunt the sylvan reign;
Where through wild groves at eve the lonely swain
Enraptured roams, to gaze on Nature's charms:
They hate the sensual,1 and scorn the vain;1
The parasite their influence never warms,
Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms.

5

CHAPTER IX.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.-[MACAULAY.]

It should be constantly borne in mind, that one great object in analyzing and parsing, is to learn how good writers employ language.

1. That wonderful book, while it obtains admiration from the most fastidious critics, is loved by those who are too simple to admire it. Doctor Johnson, all whose studies were desultory, and who hated, as he said, to read books through, made an exception in favor of the "Pilgrim's Progress."

2. That work, he said, was one of the two or three works which he wished longer. It was by no commor. merit that the illiterate sectary extracted praise like this from the most pedantic of critics and the most bigoted of Tories..

3. In the wildest part of Scotland the "Pilgrim's Progress" is a greater favorite than "Jack the Giant Killer." Every reader knows the straight and narrow path, as wel