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23. “Our neighbor died last night; it must have been
When you were gone.

She left two little ones,
So small, so frail, - William and Madeline;

The one just lisps, the other scarcely runs.'

24. The man looked grave, and in the corner cast

His old fur bonnet, wet with rain and sea ;
Muttered a while, and scratched his head, -at last,

“We have five children, this makes seven," said he.

25. “ Already in bad weather we must sleep

Sometimes without our supper. Now- Ah, well, 'Tis not my fault. These accidents are deep ;

It was the good God's will. I cannot tell.

26. “Why did He take the mother from those scraps,

No bigger than my fist ? 'Tis hard to read ;
A learned man might understand, perhaps ;-

So little, they can neither work nor need.

27. “Go fetch them, wife; they will be frightened sore,

If with the dead alone they waken thus ;-
The storm was God's hand knocking at our door,

And we must take the children home to us.

28. “Brother and sister shall they be to ours,

And they shall learn to climb my knee at even.
When He shall see these strangers in our bowers,

More fish, more food will give the God of heaven.

29. “I will work harder ; I will drink no wine

Go fetch them. Wherefore dost thou linger, dear? Not thus were wont to move these feet of thine."

She drew the curtain, saying, "They are here !"



(2) ;

(3) ;

Explain the expressions : “The room is wrapped in shade" (1); "the last embers die "

old ocean sobs "

wrapped in the black shroud of this bitter night (4); "the hoarse surge howled a sad concert” (16). “If his signal-fire be at the mast" (5) is an allusion to the custom formerly existing among French fishermen to light a signal-fire at the masthead to announce their coming. “The last trump” (14), that is, the last trumpet, on judgment-day, calling the dead to rise.

Who was kneeling in the fisherman's cottage (3) ? What time was it (1)? How many children had the woman (2) ? Where were they (2) ? Where was her husband (4) ? Why does she take her · lantern and go out (5) ? What does she find in her neighbor's cottage (10) ? What does her husband say when he hears what has happened (27) ? What does she show him (29) ?


1. fęūd'al; a. holding as pay- | 2. sērv'llę; a. meanly submisment for military services.

sive; befitting a servant or 1. děs' pots; n. tyrants.

slave. 2. răp' ynę; n. the seizing and 3. lịm' něr; no one who draws

carrying away of things by or paints.

3. eôrse; n. the dead body of a 2. for sooth'; ado, in truth.

human being.

Rienzi's Address to the Romans. 1. I come not here to talk. You know too well

The story of our thralldom. We are slaves !
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! he sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave !—not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame,
But base, ignoble slaves—slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants ; feudal despots ; lords,
Rich in some dozen paltry villages,
Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great
In that strange spell—a name.


Each hour dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cry out against them. But this very day, An honest man, my neighbor (there he stands), Was struck-struck like a dog, by one who wore The badge of Ursini, because, forsooth, He tossed not high his ready cap in air Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, And suffer such dishonor men, and wash not The stain away in blood ?


Such shames are common I have known deeper wrongs. I that speak to you, I had a brother once (a gracious boy), Full of gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy: there was the look Of heaven upon his face, which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, Brother at once and son! He left my side, A summer bloom on his fair cheek, a smile Parting his innocent lips: in one short hour, The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried For vengeance !


Rouse ye, Romans ! rouse ye, slaves ! Have ye brave sons ? Look, in the next fierce brawl, To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash.

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