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reprimand the little offender, whose playful disposition would scarcely permit it to be still. And this time he gently tapped its ear. The blow, if blow it might be called, caught the attention of his aged mother, who now, with some effort, rose from the seat, and tottered across the room. At length she reached the chair of Mr. Sherman, and, in a moment, most unexpectedly to him, she gave him a blow on the ear with all the force she could summon. "There," said she, "you strike your child, and I will strike mine."

8. For a moment, the blood was seen mounting to the face of Mr. Sherman; but it was only for a moment, when all was calm and mild as usual. He paused; he raised his spectacles; he cast his eye upon his mother; again it fell upon the book from which he had been reading. Not a word escaped him; but again he calmly pursued the service, and soon after sought in prayer an ability to set an example before his household which would be worthy of their imitation. Such a victory was worth more than the proudest one ever achieved on the field of battle.

DEFINITIONS.-1. Con-trōl', subdue, restrain, govern. Cult'ūre (pro. kult'yur), cultivation, improvement by effort. Dis'çi-plined, brought under control, trained. 2. In-tŏl'er-a-ble, not capable of being borne. 3. Děf'er-ençe, regard, respect. 4. Rěp'ri-mănd-ed, reproved for a fault. 6. Sū-per-ăn'nu-ā-ted, impaired by old age and infirmity. 8. A-chiēved', gained.

NOTE. Roger Sherman (b. 1721, d. 1793) was born at Newton, Massachusetts, and until twenty-two years of age was a shoemaker. He then removed to New Milford, Connecticut, and was soon afterward appointed surveyor of lands for the county. In 1754, he was admitted to the bar. At various times he was elected a judge; sent to the Legislature, to the Colonial Assembly, and to the United States Congress; made a member of the gov-. ernor's council of safety; and, in 1776, a member of the committee appointed to draft the Declaration of Independence, of which he was one of the signers.

LXVII. WILLIAM TELL.

James Sheridan Knowles (b. 1784, d. 1862), a dramatist and actor, was born in Cork, Ireland. In 1792 his father removed to London with his family. At the age of fourteen, Sheridan wrote an opera called "The Chevalier de Grillon." In 1798 he removed to Dublin, and soon after began his career as an actor and author. In 1835 he visited America. In 1839 an annual pension of £200 was granted him by the British government. Several years before his death he left the stage and became a Baptist minister. The best known of his plays are "Caius Gracchus," "Virginius," "Leo, the Gypsy," "The Hunchback," and "William Tell," from the last of which the following two lessons are abridged.

SCENE 1.-A Chamber in the Castle. Enter Gesler, Officers, and Sarnem, with Tell in chains and guarded.

Sar. Down, slave! Behold the governor.
Down! down! and beg for mercy.

Ges. (Seated.) Does he hear?

Sar. He does, but braves thy power.

Officer. Why don't you smite him for that look?
Ges. Can I believe

My eyes? He smiles! Nay, grasps

His chains as he would make a weapon of them
To lay the smiter dead. (To Tell.)

Why speakest thou not?

Tell. For wonder.

Ges. Wonder?

Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man.

Ges. What should I seem?

Tell. A monster.

Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.

Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down Prostrate to the earth, methinks I could rise up

Erect, with nothing but the honest pride

Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth,

Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains?
How came they on me?

Ges. Darest thou question me?
Tell. Darest thou not answer?
Ges. Do I hear?

Tell. Thou dost.

Ges. Beware my vengeance!
Tell. Can it more than kill?
Ges. Enough; it can do that.
Tell. No; not enough:

It can not take away the grace of life;
Its comeliness of look that virtue gives;
Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
Its rich attire of honorable deeds;

Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues;
It can not lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
Or with polluted finger tarnish it.

Ges. But it can make thee writhe.

Tell. It may.

Ges. And groan.

Tell. It may; and I may cry

Go on, though it should make me groan again.

Ges. Whence comest thou?

Tell. From the mountains.

Wouldst thou learn

What news from thence?

Ges. Canst tell me any

?

Tell. Ay: they watch no more the avalanche.
Ges. Why so?

Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane
Comes unawares upon them; from its bed

The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.

Ges. What do they then?

Tell. Thank heaven, it is not thou!

Thou hast perverted nature in them.

There's not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but The thought of thee-doth wither to a curse. Ges. That's right! I'd have them like their hills,

That never smile, though wanton summer tempt

Them e'er so much.

Tell. But they do sometimes smile.

Ges. Ay! when is that?

Tell. When they do talk of vengeance.

Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that?

Tell. Ay, and expect it too.

Ges. From whence?

Tell. From heaven!

Ges. From heaven?

Tell. And their true hands

Are lifted up to it on every hill

For justice on thee.

Ges. Where's thy abode?

Tell. I told thee, on the mountains.

Ges. Art married?

Tell. Yes.

[blocks in formation]

Sar. My lord, the boy-(Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep silence, and, whispering, sends him off.)

Tell. The boy? What boy?

Is't mine? and have they netted my young fledgeling?
Now heaven support me, if they have! He'll own

me,

And share his father's ruin! But a look

Would put him on his guard-yet how to give it!
Now heart, thy nerve; forget thou'rt flesh, be rock.
They come, they come!

That step-that step-that little step, so light

Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall

Upon my heart! I feel my child! (Enter Sarnem with Albert, whose eyes are riveted on Tell's bow, which Sarnem carries.)

'Tis he! We can but perish.

(5.-14.)

Alb. (Aside.) Yes; I was right. It is my father's bow! For there's my father! I'll not own him though!

Sar. See!

Alb. What?

Sar. Look there!

Alb. I do, what would you have me see?

Sar. Thy father.

Alb. Who? That-that my father?

Tell. My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!
He's safe! (Aside.)

Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They're like each other.
Ges. Yet I see no sign

Of recognition to betray the link

Unites a father and his child.

Sar. My lord,

I am sure it is his father. Look at them.
That boy did spring from him; or never cast
Came from the mold it fitted! It may be
A preconcerted thing 'gainst such a chance,
That they survey each other coldly thus.
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff.
Sar. To a dungeon?

Ges. No; into the court.

Sar. The court, my lord?
Ges. And send

To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick!
The slave shall die! You marked the boy?

Sar. I did. He started; 't is his father.
Ges. We shall see. Away with him!

Tell. Stop! Stop!

Ges. What would you?

Tell. Time,

A little time to call my thoughts together!
Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute.
Tell. Some one, then, to speak with.
Ges. Hence with him!

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