Phrase Exercise.
1. To bear him company.—2. Fairy flax.—3. Veering flaw.—4. Spanish Main.—5. The moon had a golden ring.—6. Scornful laugh.—7. I can weather the roughest gale.—8. Stinging blast.—9. Rock-bound coast.—10. In distress.—11. Gleaming light.—12. Stiff and stark.—13. Norman’s Woe.—14. Fitful gusts.—15. By the board.—16. Whooping billow.
The blue skies smile, and flowers bloom on,
And rivers still keep flowing,
The dear God still his rain and sun
On good and ill bestowing.
His pine trees whisper, “Trust and wait!”
His flowers are prophesying
That all we dread of change or fate
His love is underlying.
—J. G. Whittier.
XXVI.—HOLLAND.
Mary Mapes Dodge.
Dutch cities seem, at first sight, to be a bewildering jumble of houses, bridges, churches, and ships, sprouting into masts, steeples, and trees. In some cities boats are hitched, like horses, to their owners’ door-posts, and receive their freight from the upper windows.
Mothers scream to their children not to swing on the garden gate for fear they may be drowned. Water roads are more frequent in Holland than common roads and railroads; water fences, in the form of lazy green ditches, enclose pleasure-ground, farm, and garden.
Sometimes fine green hedges are seen; but wooden fences, such as we have, are rarely met with in Holland. As for stone fences, a Hollander would lift his hands with astonishment at the very idea. There is no stone there, excepting those great, masses of rock that have been brought from other lands, to strengthen and protect the coast. All the small stones or pebbles, if there ever were any, seem to be imprisoned in pavements or quite melted away. Boys, with strong, quick arms, may grow from aprons to full beards, without ever finding one to start the water-rings, or set the rabbits flying.
The water-roads are nothing less than canals crossing the country in every direction. These are of all sizes, from the great North Holland Ship Canal, which is the wonder of the world, to those which a boy can leap. Water-omnibuses constantly ply up and down these roads for the conveyance of passengers; and water-drays are used for carrying fuel and merchandise.
Instead of green country lanes, green canals stretch from field to barn, and from barn to garden; and the farms are merely great lakes pumped dry. Some of the busiest streets are water, while many of the country roads are paved with brick. The city boats, with their rounded sterns, gilded bows, and gayly-painted sides, are unlike any others under the sun; a Dutch waggon, with its funny little crooked pole, is a perfect mystery of mysteries.
One thing is clear, you may think that the inhabitants need never be thirsty. But no, Odd-land is true to itself still. With the sea pushing to get in, and the lakes struggling to get out, and the overflowing canals, rivers, and ditches, in many districts there is no water that is fit to swallow. Our poor Hollanders must go dry, or send far inland for that precious fluid, older than Adam, yet young as the morning dew. Sometimes, indeed, the inhabitants can swallow a shower, when they are provided with any means of catching it; but generally they are like the sailors told of in a famous poem, who saw
“Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink!”
Great flapping windmills all over the country make it look as if flocks of huge sea-birds were just settling upon it. Everywhere one sees the funniest trees, bobbed into all sorts of odd shapes, with their trunks painted a dazzling white, yellow, or red.
Horses are often yoked three abreast. Men, women and children go clattering about in wooden shoes with loose heels.
Husbands and wives lovingly harness themselves side by side on the bank of the canal and drag their produce to market.
XXVII.—EVENING HYMN.
John Keble.
Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near;
Oh! may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes!
When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour’s breast!
Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live!
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die!
If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,—
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
Let him no more lie down in sin!
Watch by the sick, enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store!
Be every mourner’s sleep to-night
Like infant’s slumbers, pure and light!
Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take:
Till, in the ocean of Thy love,
We lose ourselves in Heaven above!
XXVIII.—PSALM XXIII.
The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down
In green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
For his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me
In the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
For ever.
XXIX.—THE HEROIC SERF.
In the dark forests of Russia, where the snow lies on the ground for eight months in the year, wolves roam about in countless troops; and it is a fearful thing for the traveller, especially if night overtakes him, to hear their famished howlings as they approach nearer and nearer to him.
A Russian nobleman, with his wife and a young daughter, was travelling in a sleigh over a bleak plain. About nightfall they reached an inn, and the nobleman called for a relay of horses to go on. The innkeeper begged him not to proceed. “There is danger ahead,” said he: “the wolves are out.” The traveller thought the object of the man was to keep him as a guest for the night, and, saying it was too early in the season for wolves, ordered the horses to be put to. In spite of the repeated warnings of the landlord, the party proceeded on their way.
The driver was a serf who had been born on the nobleman’s estate, and who loved his master as he loved his life. The sleigh sped swiftly over the hard snow, and there seemed no signs of danger. The moon began to shed her light, so that the road seemed like polished silver.
Suddenly the little girl said to her father, “What is that strange, dull sound I heard just now?” Her father replied, “Nothing but the wind sighing through the trees.”
The child shut her eyes, and kept still for a while; but in a few minutes, with a face pale with fear, she turned to her father, and said, “Surely that is not the wind: I hear it again; do you not hear it too? Listen!” The nobleman listened, and far, far away in the distance behind him, but distinct enough in the clear, frosty air, he heard a sound of which he knew the meaning, though those who were with him did not.
Whispering to the serf, he said, “They are after us. Get ready your musket and pistols; I will do the same. We may yet escape. Drive on! drive on!”
The man drove wildly on; but nearer, ever nearer, came the mournful howling which the child had first heard. It was perfectly clear to the nobleman that a pack of wolves had got scent, and was in pursuit of them. Meanwhile he tried to calm the anxious fears of his wife and child.
At last the baying of the wolves was distinctly heard, and he said to his servant, “When they come up with us, single you out the leader, and fire. I will single out the next; and, as soon as one falls, the rest will stop to devour him. That will be some delay, at least.”
By this time they could see the pack fast approaching, with their long, measured tread. A large dog-wolf was the leader. The nobleman and the serf singled out two, and these fell. The pack immediately turned on their fallen comrades, and soon tore them to pieces. The taste of blood only made the others advance with more fury, and they were soon again baying at the sleigh. Again the nobleman and his servant fired. Two other wolves fell, and were instantly devoured. But the next post-house was still far distant.
The nobleman then cried to the post-boy, “Let one of the horses loose, that we may gain a little more time.” This was done, and the horse was left on the road. In a few minutes they heard the loud shrieks of the poor animal as the wolves tore him down. The remaining horses were urged to their utmost speed, but again the pack was in full pursuit. Another horse was cut loose, and he soon shared the fate of his fellow.
At length the servant said to his master, “I have served you since I was a child, and I love you as I love my own life. It is clear to me that we can not all reach the post-house alive. I am quite prepared, and I ask you to let me die for you.”
“No, no!” cried the master, “we will live together or die together. You must not, must not!”
But the servant had made up his mind; he was fully resolved. “I shall leave my wife and children to you; you will be a father to them: you have been a father to me. When the wolves next reach us, I will jump down, and do my best to delay their progress.”
The sleigh glides on as fast as the two remaining horses can drag it. The wolves are close on their track, and almost up with them. But what sound now rings out sharp and loud? It is the discharge of the servant’s pistol. At the same instant he leaps from his seat, and falls a prey to the wolves! But meanwhile the post-house is reached, and the family is safe.
On the spot where the wolves had pulled to pieces the devoted servant, there now stands a large wooden cross, erected by the nobleman. It bears this inscription: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”