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And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Let, us then, be up and doing,
1. What does the young man not wish to be told?
2. Would it make him happy to be told 80 ?
3. Are the events of life really what they appear at first sight to be?
4. In what state is that soul that thinks they are so?
5. Are afflictions sent on us by God meant only to make us miserable?
6. What are they designed to accomplish if we will only learn?
7. Does not the grave appear to be the termination of man's existence?
8. But, is it so ?
9. Of what two parts does man consist? 10. Which part was formed of the dust of the ground, and must return to it? 11. What is not the end or design of life?
12. For what purpose, then, are we placed on the footstool.
13. Farther daily on what way? 14. To what does every beat of the heart bring us nearer?
15. What must we be in the battle of life? 16. Name the enemies we meet with in this conflict.
17. Can we conquer these enemies in our own strength?
18. Will it do any good to sit hoping for good things in the future, or regretting past follies?
19. Well then, what are we to do? 20. To be great, is it necessary that we be noble, or rich, or learned?
21. Does the example of the truly great encourage those coming after?
22. Repeat the noble resolution expressed in the last verse.
XV.-BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.1
"THE Earl of Douglas, in 1452, had made a person of the name of Maclellan, who had been tutor to the Lord of Bomby, ancestor to the Earls of Kirkcudbright, priso ner, and had him confined in the castle of Thrieve, in Galloway. King James Il. sent Sir Patrick Gray with a letter, requesting as a favour that he would spare this man. Douglas received him just as he had arisen from dinner, and, with much ap parent civility, declined to speak with Gray on the occasion of his coming, until Sir Patrick also had dined, saying, "It was ill talking between a full man and a fasting." But this courtesy was only a pretence to gain time to do a very cruel and lawless action. Guessing that Sir Patrick Gray's visit respected the life of Maclellan, he resolved to hasten his execution before opening the king's letter. Thus, while he was feasting Sir Patrick, with every appearance of hospitality, he caused his unhappy kinsman to be led out, and beheaded in the courtyard of the castle.
When dinner was over, Gray presented the King's letter, which Douglas received and read over with every testimony of profound respect. He then thanked Sir Patrick for the trouble he had taken in bringing him so gracious a letter from his Sovereign, especially considering he was not at present on good terms with his Majesty. "And," he added, "the King's demand shall instantly be granted, the rather for your sake." The earl then took Sir Patrick by the hand, and led him to the castleyard, where the body of Maclellan was still lying.
1 Bernardo del Carpio, son of Donna Ximena, (the sister of Alonzo or Alphonso the Chaste,) and of Don Sancho Count Saldana, is supposed to have the interview here described in the ballad, with the king, after the treacherous execution, or rather murder, of Bernardo's father by Alphonso. The period is contemporaneous with that of Charlemagne, A.D. 768.
"Sir Patrick," said he, as his servants removed the bloody cloth which covered the body, "you have come a little too late. There lies your sister's son-but he wants the head. The body is, however, at your service."
"My lord," said Gray, suppressing his indignation, "If you have taken his head, you may dispose of the body as you will."
But when he had mounted his horse, which he instantly called for, his resentment broke out, in spite of the dangerous situation in which he was placed :"My lord," said he, "If I live you shall bitterly pay for this day's work."
So saying, he turned his horse and galloped off.
"To horse, and chase him!" said Douglas; and if Gray had not been well mounted, he would, in all probability, have shared the fate of his nephew. He was closely pursued till near Edinburgh, a space of fifty or sixty miles."-Tales of a Grandfather.
WITH Some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd
Before them all in the Palace hall, the lying King to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend
But ever and anon he frown'd, and flame broke from his
"A curse upon thee," cries the King, "who com❜st unbid
But what from traitor's blood should spring, save traitors like to thee ?
His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our Champion brave
May think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave."
"Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to repeat," Cries Bernard, "Here my gage I fling before THE LIAR's feet! No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lieBelow the throne what knight will own the coward calumny?
"The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance,
1 Roncesvalles (French Roncevaux,) a frontier village of Spain, in a gorge of the Pyrenees. Here, it is traditionally said, that the rear-guard of Charlemagne's army, under Roland or Orlando, was defeated and destroyed in 1778, and that Roland himself fell by the hand of Bernardo del Carpio.
"Your horse was down-your hope was flown-I saw the falchion shine,
That soon had drank your royal blood, had I not ventured mine;
But memory soon of service done deserteth the ingrate, And ye've thank'd the son for life and crown by the father's bloody fate.
"Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free," But, curse upon your paltering breath, the light he ne'er did
He died in dungeon cold and dim, by Alphonso's base decree, And visage blind, and stiffen'd limb, were all they gave to me.
"The king that swerveth from his word hath stain'd his purple black,
No Spanish Lord will draw the sword behind a liar's back: But noble vengeance shall be mine, an open hate I'll showThe King hath injur'd Carpio's line, and Bernard is his foe."
"Seize-sieze him!"-loud the King doth scream- "There are a thousand here
Let his foul blood this instant stream-What! caitiffs, do you fear?
Seize-seize the traitor!"-But not one to move a finger dareth,
Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his sword he bareth.
He drew the falchion from the sheath, and held it up on high, And all the hall was still as death: cries Bernard, “Here am I, And here is the sword that owns no lord, excepting Heaven and me;
Fain would I know who dares his point-King, Condé, or Grandee !"
Then to his mouth the horn he drew-(it hung below his cloak)
His ten true men the signal knew, and through the ring they broke ;
2 The king had promised to Bernardo, to liberate his father Don Sancho, but the son received only his father's corpse, which had been arrayed in armour and set in order to meet him. A similar incident is related by Sir Walter Scott in his Tales of a Grandfather, chap. xxi.
With helm on head, and blade in hand, the knights the circle brake,
And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, and the false king to quake.
"Ha! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, "what means this warlike guise?
Ye know full well I jested-ye know your worth I prize." But Bernard turn'd upon his heel, and smiling pass'd awayLong rued Alphonso and his realm the jesting of that day. Lockhart.
1. Name Bernardo's parents.
2. In what century did Charlemagne flourish ?
3. Why is Alphonso called the lying King?
4. Describe Bernardo as he approaches the throne.
5. What are the words of the king as Bernardo advances ?
6. What reply does the champion make to the king's calumny and threat?
7. State the history of the facts alluded to in verse 4th.
8. Relate an incident from Scottish his
tory similar to the one mentioned in verse 6th?
9. What does Bernard say of the king who breaks his faith?
10. Was Bernard seized at the king's command ?
11. In what words does our champion challenge the king and his nobles?
12. What takes place when the horn is blown?
13. In what tone did the king now address him?
14. What sort of smile would Bernardo give on leaving the hall?
XVI. THE LADY AND ADOPTED CHILD.
SCRIPTURE describes human nature by saying that "man is born like a wild ass's colt!" If this graphic description be correct, then we cannot begin the process of subduing and training too early. The men who are engaged in catching, taking, and exhibiting wild beasts, never think of catching one that is old, or even grown up. They take them as young as possible, and even then find it difficult to manage them. They act on the soundest principles of wisdom. The experiment has often been made of taking young savages, sometimes from the Indians of this continent, [America,] and sometimes from the eastern Isles, and educating and civilizing them; after spending much money and pains-taking, we have almost uniformly been disappointed by seeing them return to savage life, and savage habits. Some years since, a young New Zealander was carried to England, where he lived many years, was carefully educated, and introduced into the most refined society. When his education was completed, he returned to his home, and at once returned to the habits, the character, and the degradations of savage life. This has almost uniformly been the result of attempts to civilize and educate young savages. And why? On what principle can it be accounted for? I reply, that the work was begun too late. The impres sions made upon early childhood cannot be effaced. You may take the young savage, and make a palace his home, and he is like the young ass's colt: he longs for the forest, for the lawlessness of savage life. This principle is deep, uniform, unalterable.-Rev. John Todd.
Why wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child? Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild,
A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall—
Mine is a fair and pillared hall,
Where many an image of marble gleams,
And the sunshine of pictures for ever streams!"
BOY. "Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play, Through the long bright hours of the summer day; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme ;
And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know, Lady, kind lady, oh! let me go!"
LADY. "Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell; Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well;
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon,
Harps which the wandering breezes tune:
Boy. "My mother sings at the twilight's fall,
LADY. " Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest, She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou wouldst meet her footsteps, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin door;
Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh,
And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye!"
BOY. " Is my mother gone from her home away! But I know that my brothers are there at play; I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, And the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well, And they launch their boats where the blue streams flow, Lady, kind lady, oh! let me go!"
LADY. "Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow,
They have left the fern by the spring's green side,
Boy. "Are they gone, all gone from the hill?