McGuffey's Fifth Eclectic Reader by William Holmes McGuffey

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6. Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till, in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.

7. The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;

8. Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound;
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying, and deafening the ear with its sound

9. Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;

10. Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling;

11. And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
--Abridged from Southey.

DEFINITIONS.--4. Tarn, a small lake among the mountains. Fell (provincial
English), a stony hill. Gills (provincial English), brooks. 10. Brawl'ing,
roaring. Riv'ing, splitting.

NOTES.--1. Lodore is a cascade on the banks of Lake Derwentwater, in
Cumberland, England, near where Southey lived.

3. Laureate. The term probably arose from a custom in the English
universities of presenting a laurel wreath to graduates in rhetoric and
versification. In England the poet laureate's office is filled by
appointment of the lord chamberlain. The salary is quite small, and the
office is valued chiefly as one of honor.

This lesson is peculiarly adapted for practice on the difficult sound
"ing".

XXXIX. THE BOBOLINK.

1. The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the
European lark in my estimation, is the boblincoln, or bobolink as he is
commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year which, in
this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May so often
given by the poets. With us it begins about the middle of May, and lasts
until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to
return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year; and
later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of
summer. But in this genial interval, Nature is in all her freshness and
fragrance: "the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the
earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the
turtle is heard in the land."

2. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure; the
woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel; the air is
perfumed with the sweetbrier and the wild rose; the meadows are enameled
with clover blossoms; while the young apple, peach, and the plum begin to
swell, and the cherry to glow among the green leaves.

3. This is the chosen season of revelry of the bobolink. He comes amid the
pomp and fragrance of the season; his life seems all sensibility and
enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of
the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is
in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long,
flaunting weed, and, as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a
succession of rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the
outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous
character.

4. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon
as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as
if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of
his mate; always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody; and
always with the same appearance of intoxication and delight. Of all the
birds of our groves and meadows, the bobolink was the envy of my boyhood.
He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the
year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed
in every bosom; but when I, luckless urchin! was doomed to be mewed up,
during the live-long day, in a schoolroom.

5. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he flew by in full
song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. Oh, how I envied him!
No lessons, no task, no school; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields,
and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have
addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo:

"Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.

"Oh. could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring."

6. Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of
this feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to impart for the benefit
of my young readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and
admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw him at
first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he, in a
manner, devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird
of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While this
lasted he was sacred from injury; the very schoolboy would not fling a
stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain.

7. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover blossoms
disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his
elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical suit of black, assumes a
russet, dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyment of common vulgar
birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear; he is stuffing himself with
the seeds of the tall weeds on which he lately swung and chanted so
melodiously. He has become a bon vivant, a gourmand: with him now there is
nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of
plain, homely fare, and is off on a gastronomic tour in quest of foreign
luxuries.

8. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, banqueting among the
reeds of the Delaware, and grown corpulent with good feeding. He has
changed his name in traveling. Boblincoln no more, he is the reedbird now,
the much-sought-for tidbit of Pennsylvanian epicures, the rival in unlucky
fame of the ortolan! Wherever he goes, pop! pop! pop! every rusty firelock
in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by
thousands around him. Does he take warning and reform? Alas! not he. Again
he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the south invite him. He gorges
himself among them almost to bursting; he can scarcely fly for corpulency.
He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous ricebird of the
Carolinas. Last stage of his career: behold him spitted with dozens of his
corpulent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on some southern
table.

9. Such is the story of the bobolink; once spiritual, musical,
admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of spring; finally,
a gross little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the larder. His
story contains a moral worthy the attention of all little birds and little
boys; warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits
which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of
his career, but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated
indulgence which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end.

--From Irving's "Birds of Spring."

DEFINITIONS.--En-am'eled, coated with a smooth, glossy surface. 3.
Sen-si-bil'i-ty, feeling. 4. Mewed, shut up. 5. Var'let, a rascal. Versed,
familiar, practiced. 6. Vo-lup'tu-a-ry, one who makes his bodily enjoyment
his chief object. 7. Bon vi-vant (French, pro. bon ve-van'), one who lives
well. Gour-mand (French, pro. goor'man), a glutton. Gas-tro-nom'ic,
relating to the science of good eating. 8. Cor'pu-lent, fleshy, fat.
Ep'i-cure, one who indulges in the luxuries of the table. Vaunt'ed,
boasted. 9. Ex'pi-ates, atones for. Lard'er, a pantry. Es-chew', to shun.

NOTES.--5. John Logan (b. 1748, d.1788). A Scotch writer of note. His
writings include dramas, poetry, history, and essays. 8. The ortolan is a
small bird, abundant in southern Europe, Cyprus, and Japan. It is fattened
for the table, and is considered a great delicacy.

XL. ROBERT OF LINCOLN.

1. Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Snug and safe is that nest of ours.
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee."

2. Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat:
White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Look what a nice new coat is mine;
Sure, there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee."

3. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee."

4. Modest and shy as a nun is she,
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
"Bobolink, Bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Never was I afraid of man,
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee."

5. Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nice good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee."

6. Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood..
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee."

7. Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee."

8. Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee."

--William Cullen Bryan.

XLI. REBELLION IN MASSACHUSETTS STATE PRISON.

1. A more impressive exhibition of moral courage, opposed to the wildest
ferocity under the most appalling circumstances, was never seen than that
which was witnessed by the officers of our state prison; in the rebellion
which occurred some years since.

2. Three convicts had been sentenced, under the rules of the prison, to be
whipped in the yard, and, by some effort of one of the other prisoners, a
door had been opened at midday communicating with the great dining hall
and, through the warden's lodge, with the street.

3. The dining hall was long, dark, and damp, from its situation near the
surface of the ground; and in this all the prisoners assembled, with clubs
and such other tools as they could seize in passing through the workshops.

4. Knives, hammers, and chisels, with every variety of such weapons, were
in the hands of the ferocious spirits, who are drawn away from their
encroachments on society, forming a congregation of strength, vileness,
and talent that can hardly be equaled on earth, even among the famed
brigands of Italy.

5. Men of all ages and characters, guilty of every variety of infamous
crime, dressed in the motley and peculiar garb of the institution, and
displaying the wild and demoniac appearance that always pertains to
imprisoned wretches, were gathered together for the single purpose of
preventing the punishment which was to be inflicted on the morrow upon
their comrades.

6. The warden, the surgeon, and some other officers of the prison were
there at the time, and were alarmed at the consequences likely to ensue
from the conflict necessary to restore order. They huddled together, and
could scarcely be said to consult, as the stoutest among them lost all
presence of mind in overwhelming fear. The news rapidly spread through the
town, and a subordinate officer, of the most mild and kind disposition,
hurried to the scene, and came calm and collected into the midst of the
officers. The most equable-tempered and the mildest man in the government
was in this hour of peril the firmest.

7. He instantly dispatched a request to Major Wainright, commander of the
marines stationed at the Navy Yard, for assistance, and declared his
purpose to enter into the hall and try the force of firm demeanor and
persuasion upon the enraged multitude.

8. All his brethren exclaimed against an attempt so full of hazard, but in
vain. They offered him arms, a sword and pistols, but he refused them, and
said that he had no fear, and, in case of danger, arms would do him no
service; and alone, with only a little rattan, which was his usual walking
stick, he advanced into the hall to hold parley with the selected,
congregated, and enraged villains of the whole commonwealth.

9. He demanded their purpose in thus coming together with arms, in
violation of the prison laws. They replied that they were determined to
obtain the remission of the punishment of their three comrades. He said it
was impossible; the rules of the prison must be obeyed, and they must
submit.

10. At the hint of submission they drew a little nearer together, prepared
their weapons for service, and, as they were dimly seen in the further end
of the hall by those who observed from the gratings that opened up to the
day, a more appalling sight can not be conceived, nor one of more moral
grandeur, than that of the single man standing within their grasp, and
exposed to be torn limb from limb instantly if a word or look should add
to the already intense excitement.

11. That excitement, too, was of a most dangerous kind. It broke not forth
in noise and imprecations, but was seen only in the dark looks and the
strained nerves that showed a deep determination. The officer
expostulated. He reminded them of the hopelessness of escape; that the
town was alarmed, and that the government of the prison would submit to
nothing but unconditional surrender. He said that all those who would go
quietly away should be forgiven for this offense; but that if every
prisoner were killed in the contest, power enough would be obtained to
enforce the regulations of the prison.

12. They replied that they expected that some would be killed,--that
death would be better than such imprisonment; and, with that look and tone
which bespeak an indomitable purpose, they declared that not a man should
leave the hall alive till the flogging was remitted. At this period of the
discussion their evil passions seemed to be more inflamed, and one or two
offered to destroy the officer, who still stood firmer and with a more
temperate pulse than did his friends, who saw from above, but could not
avert, the danger that threatened him.

13. Just at this moment, and in about fifteen minutes from the
commencement of the tumult, the officer saw the feet of the marines, on
whose presence alone he relied for succor, filing by the small upper
lights. Without any apparent anxiety, he had repeatedly turned his
attention to their approach; and now he knew that it was his only time to
escape, before the conflict became, as was expected, one of the most dark
and dreadful in the world.

14. He stepped slowly backward, still urging them to depart before the
officers were driven to use the last resort of firearms. When within three
or four feet of the door, it was opened, and closed instantly again as he
sprang through, and was thus unexpectedly restored to his friends.

15. Major Wainright was requested to order his men to fire down upon the
convicts through the little windows, first with powder and then with ball,
till they were willing to retreat; but he took a wiser as well as a bolder
course, relying upon the effect which firm determination would have upon
men so critically situated. He ordered the door to be again opened, and
marched in at the head of twenty or thirty men, who filed through the
passage, and formed at the end of the hall opposite to the crowd of
criminals huddled together at the other.

16. He stated that he was empowered to quell the rebellion, that he wished
to avoid shedding blood, but that he would not quit that hall alive till
every convict had returned to his duty. They seemed balancing the strength
of the two parties, and replied that some of them were ready to die, and
only waited for an attack to see which was the more powerful; swearing
that they would fight to the last, unless the punishment was remitted, for
they would not submit to any such punishment in the prison. Major
Wainright ordered his marines to load their pieces, and, that they might
not be suspected of trifling, each man was made to hold up to view the
bullet which he afterward put in his gun.

17. This only caused a growl of determination, and no one blenched or
seemed disposed to shrink from the foremost exposure. They knew that their
number would enable them to bear down and destroy the handful of marines
after the first discharge, and before their pieces could be reloaded.
Again they were ordered to retire; but they answered with more ferocity
than ever. The marines were ordered to take their aim so as to be sure and
kill as many as possible. Their guns were presented, but not a prisoner
stirred, except to grasp more firmly his weapon.

18. Still desirous to avoid such a tremendous slaughter as must have
followed the discharge of a single gun, Major Wainright advanced a step or
two, and spoke even more firmly than before, urging them to depart. Again,
and while looking directly into the muzzles of the guns which they had
seen loaded with ball, they declared their intention "to fight it out."
This intrepid officer then took out his watch, and told his men to hold
their pieces aimed at the convicts, but not to fire till they had orders;
then, turning to the prisoners, he said: "You must leave this hall; I give
you three minutes to decide; if at the end of that time a man remains, he
shall be shot dead."

19. No situation of greater interest than this can be conceived. At one
end of the hall, a fearful multitude of the most desperate and powerful
men in existence, waiting for the assault; at the other, a little band of
disciplined men, waiting with arms presented, and ready, upon the least
motion or sign, to begin the carnage; and their tall and imposing
commander, holding up his watch to count the lapse of three minutes, given
as the reprieve to the lives of hundreds. No poet or painter can conceive
a spectacle of more dark and terrible sublimity; no human heart can
conceive a situation of more appalling suspense.

20. For two minutes not a person nor a muscle moved; not a sound was heard
in the unwonted stillness of the prison, except the labored breathings of
the infuriated wretches, as they began to pant between fear and revenge:
at the expiration of two minutes, during which they had faced the
ministers of death with unblenching eyes, two or three of those in the
rear, and nearest the further entrance, went slowly out; a few more
followed the example, dropping out quietly and deliberately: and before
half of the last minute was gone, every man was struck by the panic, and
crowded for an exit, and the hall was cleared, as if by magic.

21. Thus the steady firmness of moral force and the strong effect of
determination, acting deliberately, awed the most savage men, and
suppressed a scene of carnage, which would have instantly followed the
least precipitancy or exertion of physical force.
--J. T. Buckingham.

"It may be that more lofty courage dwells
In one weak heart which braves all adverse fate
Than does in his whose soul indignant swells,
Warmed by the fight, or cheered through high debate."

DEFINITIONS.--2. Warden, a keeper, one who guards, 4. En-croach'ment,
unlawful intrusion on the rights of others. Brig'ands, robbers, those who
live by plunder. 5. Mot'ley, composed of various colors. De-mo'ni-ac,
devil-like. 6. Sub-or'di-nate, inferior in power. 7. Ma-rines, soldiers
that serve on board of ships. De-mean'or, be-havior, deportment. 8.
Par'ley, conversation or conference with an enemy. 9. Re-mis'sion (pro.
re-mish'un), pardon of transgression. 11. Im-pre-ca'tions, curses, prayers
for evil. Ex-pos'tu-lat-ed, rea-soned earnestly. 12. In-dom'i-ta-ble, that
can not be subdued or tamed. 17. Blenched. gave way, shrunk. 18.
In-trep'id, fearless. 19, Re-prieve', a delay of punishment. 21.
Pre-cip'i-tan-cy, headlong hurry.

XLII. FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.

Thomas Hood (b. 1798, d. 1845) was the son of a London bookseller. After
leaving school he undertook to learn the art of an engraver, but soon
turned his attention to literature. In 1821 he became sub-editor of the
"London Magazine." Hood is best known as a humorist; but some of his poems
are full of the tenderest pathos; and a gentle, humane spirit pervades
even his lighter productions. He was poor, and during the last years of
his life suffered much from ill health. Some of his most humorous pieces
were written on a sick bed.

1. Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

2. Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"

3. The army surgeons made him limbs;
Said he, "They're only pegs:
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs!"

4. Now Ben, he loved a pretty maid,
Her Name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devoirs,
When he'd devoured his pay.

5. But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

6. "O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm'?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"

7. Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!

8. "Before you had these timber toes,
Your love I did allow,
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now!"

9. "O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet--some other man
Is standing in my shoes!

10. "I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death;--alas!
You will not be my NELL!"

11. Now when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot!

12. So round his melancholy neck,
A rope he did entwine,
And for the second time in life.
Enlisted in the Line!

13. One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And, as his legs were off, of course
He soon was off his legs.

14. And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town:
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!

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