and counted thirty-four before it reached the water. All hear of heights and of depths, but they here see what is high, and they tremble, and feel it to be deep. 6. The awful rocks present their everlasting butments, the water murmurs and foams far below, and the two mountains rear their proud heads on each side, separated by a channel of sublimity. Those who view the sun, the moon, and the stars, and allow that none but God could make them, will here be impressed that none but an Almighty God could build a bridge like this. 7. The view of the bridge from below is as pleasing as the top view is awful; the arch from beneath would seem to be about two feet in thickness. Some idea of the distance from the top to the bottom may be formed from the fact, that, as I stood on the bridge, and my companion beneath, neither of us could speak sufficiently loud to be heard by the other. A man from either view does not appear more than four or five inches in height. 8. As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place where visitors have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here Washington climbed up twentyfive feet, and carved his own name, where it still remains. Some wishing to immortalize their names, have engraven them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and insert them in this book of fame. 9. A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to p.ace his name above all others, came very near losing his life in the attempt. After much fatigue, he climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who had before occupied his place was taller than himself, and consequently had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be discouraged. He opened a large jack-knife, and in the soft limestone begun to cut places for his hands and feet. 19. With much patience and industry he worked his way upward, and succeeded in carving higher than the most ambitious had done before him. He could now triumph, but his triumph was short, for he was placed in such a situation that it was impossible to descend, unless he fell upon the ragged rocks beneath him. There was no house near, from whence his companions could get assistance. He could not long remain in that condition, and, what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to do any thing for his relief. 11. They looked upon him as already dead, expecting every moment to see him precipitated upon the rocks below, and dashed to pieces. Not so with himself. He determined to ascend. Accordingly he plies the rock with his knife, cutting places for his hands and feet, and gradually ascended with incredible labor. He exerts every muscle. His life was at stake, and all the terrors of death rose before him. 12. He dared not look downward, lest his head should become dizzy; and perhaps on this circumstance his life depended. His companions stood at the top of the rock exhorting and encouraging him. His strength was almost exhausted; but a bare possibility of saving his life still remained, and hope, the last friend of the distressed, had not yet forsaken him. His course upward was rather oblique than perpendicular. 13. His most critical moment had now arrived. He had ascended considerably more than two hundred feet, and had still farther to rise, when he felt himself fast growing weak. He thought of his friends, and all his earthly joys, and he could not leave them. He thought of the grave, and dared not meet it. He now made his last effort, and succeeded. He had cut his way not far from two hundred and fifty feet from the water, in a course almost perpendicular; and in a little less than two hours, his anxious companions reached him a pole from the top, and drew him up. 14. They received him with shouts of joy; but he himself was completely exhausted. He immediately fainted on reach ing the top, and it was some time before he could be recovered. It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow in imagination this bold youth as he thus saved his ife. His name stands far above all the rest, a monument of hardihood, of rashness, and of folly. LESSON XLI. 41 MOUNT MONADNOCK." PEABODY. 1. UPON the far-off mountain's brow In thunder on his breast descending; 2. I've seen him when the morning sun Burned like a bale-fire on the height; 3. And there, forever firm and clear, No sovereign but the King of kings. He rears in melancholy glory. 4. The proudest works of human hands Outlives the mightiest of them all. ■ Mount Mon-ad'nock; a mountain in Cheshire County, New Hampshire, 3450 feet above the level of the sea. And man himself, more frail by far Than e'en the works his hand is raising, That flashes, and expires in blazing. 5. And all the treasures of the heart, Its loves and sorrows, joys and fears, Unchanged, though years are passing o'er him; 6. So should it be; for no heart beats The soothing words that make us blest. LESSON XLII. THE SACKING OF PRAGUE. CAMPBELL. [The learner may note the transitions in the following piece. See Transition, p. 60, and rules 2, 4, 8, &c., for Expression, p. 51.] 1. O! SACRED truth! thy triumph ceased a while, b • Falling star; a meteoric phenomenon supposed by some to be a collection of gaseous matter formed and ignited in the air. b Pandours; a kind of light infantry. Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn Presaging wrath to Poland, and to man! 2. Warsaw's last champion from the height surveyed, O! Heaven, he cried, my bleeding country save! 3. He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed. 4. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 5. The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there; Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air. с a Koscinsko. b Sarmatia, (sār-ma-she-a, by the poet, in three syllables;) an ancient country, of which Poland is a part. Kosciusko, (kos-se-us'ko ;) a distinguished Polish general, and Washington's aid in the American Revolution |