ried, stupefied, disheartened, thinking himself a mere blockhead. 7. Thus musing, I approached the roadman. I inquired how his wife and children were. I asked how he liked the new cottage he had lately moved into. Well, he said; but it was far from his work: he had walked eight miles and a half that morning to his work; he had to walk the same distance home again in the evening after laboring all day; and for this his wages were thirteen shillings a week, with a deduction for such days as he might be unable to work. 8. He did not mention all this by way of complaint; he was comfortably off, he said; he should be thankful he was so much better off than many. He had got a little pony lately very cheap, which would carry himself and his tools to and from his employment, and that would be very nice. In all likelihood, my friendly reader, the roadman would not have been so communicative to you; but as for me, it is my duty and my happiness to be the sympathizing friend of every man, woman, and child in this parish, and it pleases me much to believe that there is no one throughout its little population who does not think of me and speak to me as a friend. 9. I talked a little longer to the roadman about parish affairs. We mutually agreed in remarking the incongruous colors of a pair of ponies which passed in a little phaeton, of which one was cream-colored and the other dapple-gray. The phaeton came from a friend's house a little way off, and I wondered if it were going to the railway to bring some one who (I knew) was expected; for in such simple matters do we simple country folk find something to maintain the interest of life. 10. I need not go on to describe what other things I did; how I looked with pleasure at a field of oats and another of potatoes in which I am concerned, and held several short conversations with passers-by; but the result of the whole was a conviction that, after all, it was best to set to work at once, though well remembering how much, by indoor work in the country on such a day as this, one is missing. And the thought of the roadman's seventeen miles of walking, in addition to his day's work, was something of a reproof and a stimulus. XCVII.-THE WAY TO HEAVEN. J. G. HOLLAND. 1. Heaven is not gained at a single bound; 2. I count this thing to be grandly true, That a noble deed is a step towards God,- 3. We rise by things that are 'neath our feet; 4. We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, When the morning calls us to life and light, But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. 5. We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, And we think that we mount the air on wings While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 6. Wings for the angels, but feet for the men! We may borrow the wings to find the way— We may hope and resolve and aspire and pray, But our feet must rise, or we fall again. 7. Only in dreams is a ladder thrown From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. 8. Heaven is not reached at a single bound; QUESTIONS.-What lesson is this poem intended to teach? Show clearly what it is. First Stanza. What does "heaven" mean, in the first line? What "ladder" is meant, in the second line? What are the "vaulted skies"? Second Stanza. What is meant by being "grandly true"? What is the meaning of the second line? What is spoken of as "lifting the soul"? What is meant by this? Does the doing of a good deed help us to see the truth more clearly than before, and to see more of it? Explain the last line. What is the advantage of" pure air"? Third Stanza. Explain the first line. What is meant by " the pride deposed"? "the passion slain"? How may pride be deposed? How may passion be slain? Explain the last line. Fourth Stanza. Tell as carefully as you can in your own language the meaning of this stanza. Seventh Stanza. Find in the Bible the story alluded to in this stanza. What is the meaning of the stanza? Point out the beauty and aptness of the comparison. XCVIII.-" HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." ELIZABETH B. BROWNING. 1. Of all the thoughts of God that are Along the Psalmist's music deep, 2. What would we give to our beloved? The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, 3. What do we give to our beloved? 4. And bitter memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake.- Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say, Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when 5. O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 6. His dews drop mutely on the hill ; Though on its slope men sow and reap. 7. Ay, men may wonder while they scan Confirmed in such a rest to keep; 8. For me, my heart that erst did go That sees through tears the mummers leap, Who giveth His beloved, sleep. 9. And, friends, dear friends,—when it shall be Let One, most loving of you all, QUESTIONS.-What kind of poetry is this? Is it joyous, sad, pathetic, plaintive? How much force does it require? What degree of pitch? .of speed? What feelings ought to be expressed in the reading of it? First Stanza. What "thought of God" is mentioned in this stanza. What precedes in thought the word "of" at the beginning of the first line? Convert the stanza into prose so as to show this. What is the meaning of the word "afar," and what does it modify? Meaning of "for" in the fifth line? |