e. My pen shall THE TWO HOMES. 113 avenge me to your great disaster. 1. And mine shall let you know, sir, who is your master. e. I defy you in verse, prose, Latin, and Greek! 1. You shall hear from me, sir, in the course of the week. Imitated from MOLIERE. TH (the ea like a in far), n., TEN'DRIL, n., a spiral shoot of a climbce on which a fire is made. (yon), a., within view. ing plant. SOL'EMN (Sol'em), a., sacredly serious. not say hawnt for haunt (the au is like a in far). Give ou in fount and oi in 'ing their pure sounds. Do not say acrost for a-cross'. Do not slight the artic1 of ask'st. Practice it well. FIRST SPEAKER. ST thou my home? 't is where yon woods are waving, a their dark richness, to the summer air; ere yon blue stream, a thousand flower-banks laving, eads down the hill a vein of light, 't is there! d those green wilds how many a fount lies gleaming, ringed with the violet, colored with the skies! boyhood's haunt, through days of summer dreaming, nder young leaves that shook with melodies. home the spirit of its love is breathing 1 every wind that plays across my track; re am I loved, there prayed for; there my mother One are those tones, as from one heart ascendi There laughs my home, — sad stranger! whe Ask'st thou of mine? SECOND SPEAKER. In solemn peace 'tis ly Far o'er the deserts and the tombs away; 'Tis where I, too, am loved with love undying, And fond hearts wait my step: but where are Ask where the earth's departed have their dwell Ask of the clouds, the stars, the trackless air I know it not, yet trust the whisper, telling My lonely heart that love unchanged is there. And what is home and where, but with the lovin Happy thou art, that so canst gaze on thine! My spirit knoweth, in its weary roving, That with the dead, where'er they be, is mine. Go to thy home, rejoicing son and brother! Bear in fresh gladness to the household scene! For me, too, watch the sister and the mother, I will believe - but dark seas roll between. FELICIA HEMANS. (1795 XLII.-WARREN'S ADDRESS AT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL. PEAL, n., a succession of loud sounds, DES'POT, n., a tyrant. as of cannon, &c. QUAIL, v. i., to sink in spirit. MARTYRED, pp., put to dea truth or for patriotism. The e in the last syllable of leaden and heaven is not sounded. STAND! the ground's your own, my braves! Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ve look for greener graves? On they come!-and will ye quail? - Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust!. Die we may and die we must: But, 0, where can dust to dust As where heaven its dews shall shed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell? JOHN PIERPONT. 115 1 NE, a., first; earliest. RAL a., indifferent. T, a., easily bent. ER', n., a course; a race. SE', a., stretched; extreme. UCT'OR, n., a teacher. CON'SCIENCE, n., the faculty of knowing right from wrong. I-DE AL, a., existing in idea. TEM PO-RAL, a., relating to time and AC-TER-IS'TIC, a., marking char- IN-VENT'OR, n., one who invents. r. ., relish; flavor. EAR'NEST, a., zealous; serious. IN-GEN'U-OUS (-jen), a., frank. ot say umble for hum'ble; nootral for neutral; ideel for i-de'al; appint for t'. Pronounce discern, diz-zern'. Tun career of Themes Arnold the distinguished 116 ARNOLD, THE TEACHER. of common life, was not one of stirring incident, or ro-mănce; it consisted in laboring to his best in his sacred vocation. Born in England in 1795, he was educated at Winchester College, and in 1827 became head-master of Rugby School. He died in 1842, at the early age of forty-seven. 2. His professional life began at Rugby; and he plunged into fourteen years of uninterrupted toil. Holding labor to be his appointed lot on earth, he harnessed himself cheerfully to his work. A craving for rest was to him a sure sign that neither mind nor body retained its pristine vigor; and he determined, while blessed with health, to proceed like the camel in the wilderness, and die with his burden on his back. His characteristic trait was intense earnestness. He felt life keenly; its responsibilities as well as its enjoyments. His very pleasures were earnest. In nothing was he indifferent or neutral. 3. His principles were few: the fear of God was the beginning of his wisdom, and his object was not so much to teach knowledge, as the means of acquiring it; to furnish, in a word, the key to the temple. He desired to awaken the intellect of each individual boy, and contended that the main movement must come from within, and not from without, the pupil; and that all that could be should be done by him, and not for him. 4. In a word, his scheme was to call forth in the little world of school those capabilities which best fitted boys for their career in the great world. He was not only possessed of strength, but had the art of imparting it; he had the power to grasp a subject himself, and then ingraft it on the intellect of others. 5. His pupils were made to feel that there was a work for them to do; that their happiness, as well as their duty, lay in doing that work well. Hence an ARNOLD, THE TEACHER. 117 indescribable zest was communicated to a young man's feeling about life; a strange joy came over him on discerning that he had the means of being useful, and thus of being happy. He was inspired with a humble, profound, and most religious consciousness that work is the appointed calling of man on earth; the element in which his nature is ordained to develop itself, and in which his progressive advancement toward heaven is to lie. 6. The three ends at which Arnold aimed, in the order of their relative importance, were first and foremost to inculcate religious and moral principle, then gentlemanlike conduct, and lastly intellectual ability. To his mind, religion and politics - the doing one's duty to God and to man - were the two things really wanting. Unlike the schoolmasters of his early life, he held all the scholarship man ever had to be infi nitely worthless in comparison with even a very hum. ble degree of spiritual advancement. 7. He loved tuition for itself, of which he fully felt the solemn responsibility and the ideäl beauty, and which he was among the first to elevate to its true dignity. It was the destiny and business of his entire life. His own youthfulness of temperament and vigor fitted him better for the society of the young than of the old; he enjoyed their spring of mind and body, and by personal intercourse hoped to train up and mould to good their pliant minds, while wax to receive, and marble to retain. 8. He led his pupils to place implicit trust in his decisions, and to esteem his approbation as their highest reward. He gained his end by treating them as gentlemen, as reasonable beings, in whose conscience and common sense he might confide; and to this appeal to their nobler faculties, to his relying on their honor, the ingenuous youth responded worthily. |