« PreviousContinue »
RUDYARD KIPLING was born at Bombay, India, 1863, of English parentage. He was educated in England. Returning thence to his native country, he became a contributor to the daily press. In 1889 he went to live in England again. He has written much prose and several volumes of verse. By his vigorous and graphic stories of life in India he first attracted the attention of many readers, and each successive book, whether in prose or verse, has been heartily welcomed in England and in America. His “ Jungle Books" are unique works of the imagination and are delightful to the young, for whom they were written.
God of our fathers, known of old
Lord of our far-flung battle lineBeneath Whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine – Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget - lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies —
The captains and the kings depart; Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget!
Far called our navies melt
away On dune and headland sinks the fire
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe Such boasting as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the law – Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts its trust
In reeking tube and iron shard
And guarding calls not thee to guard
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon,
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
A HURRICANE AT SEA.
EDGAR ALLAN POE was born in Boston, Massachusetts, Jan. 19, 1809. His parents having died in his childhood, his adoptive father took the boy to England, and there, during five years, he studied at Stoke-Newington. Returning to America, he continued his education a year at the University of Virginia. In 1827 he published a volume of poems, and, in 1829, an enlarged edition. In 1835 he became editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, and subsequently conducted Graham's Magazine. He is the author of many weird tales skillfully told, of many critical reviews, and of numerous poems charming in melody and unique in construction. By some discriminating readers he is regarded as the greatest of American poets. His works, in prose and verse, have been many times reprinted.
He died in Baltimore, Oct. 7, 1849.
After many years spent in foreign travel, I sailed from the port of Batavia, in the rich and populous island of Java, on a voyage to the Archipelago of the Sunda islands. I went as a passenger, having no other inducement than a kind of nervous restlessness which haunted me as a fiend.
Our vessel was a beautiful ship of about four hundred tons, copper-fastened, and built at Bombay of Malabar teak. We got under way with a mere breath of wind, and for many days stood along the eastern coast of Java, without any other incident to beguile the monotony of our course than the occasional meeting with some small grabs? of the Archipelago to which we were bound.
One evening, leaning over the taffrail, I observed a very singular isolated cloud to the northwest. It was remarkable, as well for its color, as from being the first we had seen since our departure from Batavia. I watched it attentively until sunset, when it spread all at once to the eastward and westward, girting in the horizon with a narrow strip of vapor, and looking like a long line of low beach.
My notice was soon after attracted by the duskyred appearance of the moon, and the peculiar character of the sea. The latter was undergoing a rapid change, and the water seemed more than usually transparent. Although I could distinctly see the bottom, yet, heaving the lead, I found the ship in fifteen fathoms.
The air now became intolerably hot, and was loaded with spiral exhalations similar to those arising from heated iron. As night came on, every breath of wind died away, and a more entire calm it is impossible to conceive. The flame of a candle burned upon the after-deck without the least perceptible motion, and a long hair, held between the finger and thumb, hung without the possibility of detecting a vibration. However, as the captain said he could perceive no indication of danger, and as we were drifting in bodily to shore, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the anchor let go.
1 grab; a kind of Arab ship.
No watch was set, and the crew, consisting principally of Malays, stretched themselves deliberately
I went below — not without a presentiment of evil. Indeed, every appearance warranted me in apprehending a simoom. I told the captain my fears, but he paid no attention to what I said, and left me without deigning to give a reply.
My uneasiness, however, prevented me from sleeping, and about midnight I went upon deck. As I placed my foot upon the upper step of the companionladder, I was startled by a loud humming noise, like that occasioned by the rapid revolutions of a mill wheel, and before I could ascertain its meaning, I found the ship quivering to its center. In the next instant a wilderness of foam hurled the ship upon its beam-ends, and, rushing over us fore and aft, swept the entire deck from stem to stern.
The extreme fury of the blast proved, in a great measure, the salvation of the ship. Although completely water-logged, yet, as her masts had gone by the board, she rose, after a minute, heavily from the sea, and, staggering awhile beneath the immense pressure of the tempest, finally righted.
By what miracle I escaped destruction, it is impossible to say. Stunned by the shock of the water, I found myself, upon recovery, jammed in between the stern-post and the rudder. With great
With great difficulty I gained my feet, and looking dizzily around, was at first struck with the idea that we were among