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to him, were forced, much against their will, to clamber up the rigging of a man-of-war, and found him enthroned on the cross-trees.
8. Such was the prince whom the populace of London now crowded to behold. His stately form, his intellectual forehead, his piercing black eyes, his Tartar nose and mouth, his gracious smile, his frown, black with all the stormy rage and hate of a barbarian tyrant, and, above all, a strange nervous convulsion which sometimes transformed his countenance, during a few moments, into an object on which it was impossible to look without terror, the immense quantities of meat which he devoured, the pints of brandy which he swallowed, the fool who jabbered at his feet, the monkey which grinned at the back of his chair, — were, during some weeks, popular topics of conversation.
9. He, meanwhile, shunned the public gaze with a haughty shyness which inflamed curiosity. He went to a play; but, as soon as he perceived that pit, boxes, and galleries were staring, not at the stage, but at him, he retired to a back bench, where he was screened from observation by his attendants. He was desirous to see a sitting of the House of Lords; but, as he was determined not to be seen, he was forced to climb up to the leads, and to peep through a small window.
10. William judiciously humored the whims of his illustrious guest, and stole to Norfolk Street, so quietly that nobody in the neighborhood recognized his majesty in the thin gentleman who got out of the modest-looking coach at the Czar's lodgings. The Czar returned the visit with the same precautions, and was admitted into Kensington House by a back door. It was afterwards known that he took no notice of the fine pictures with which the palace was adorned. But over the chimney of the royal sittingroom was a plate which, by an ingenious machinery, indi. cated the direction of the wind, and with this plate he was in raptures.
11. He soon became weary of his residence. He found that he was too far from the objects of his curiosity, and too near to the crowds to which he was himself an object of curiosity. He accordingly removed to Deptford, and was there lodged in the house of John Evelyn, a house which had long been a favorite resort of men of letters, men of taste, and men of science. Here Peter gave himself up to his favorite pursuits. He navigated a yacht io i every day, up and down the river. His apartment was crowded with models of three-deckers and two-deckers, frigates, sloops, and fire-ships".
12. But Evelyn does not seem to have formed a favorable opinion of his august!? tenant. It was, indeed, not in the character of tenant that the Czar was likely to gain the good word of civilized men. With all the high qualities which were peculiar to himself, he had all the filthy habits which were then common among his countrymen. To the end of his life, while disciplining armies, founding schools, framing codes, organizing tribunals, building cities in deserts, joining distant seas by artificial rivers, he lived in his palace like a hog in a sty. Evelyn's house was left in such a state that the Treasury quieted his complaints with a considerable sum of money. '
13. Towards the close of March the Czar visited Portsmouth, saw a sham sea-fight at Spithead, watched every movement of the contending fleets with intense interest, and expressed in warm terms his gratitude to the hospitable government which had provided so delightful a spectacle for his amusement and instruction. After passing more than three months in England, he departed in high good humor.
TEP'OCH (čp'ok, or e'nčk). A point | 2 MXR'I-TÍME. Relating to the sca;
of time made remarkable by som marine.
14 DĨP-LQ-MĂT'IC. Relating to the art
of conducting negotiations, &c., / 9 MON-Q-MĀ'NI-A. Insanity upon one between nations.
particular subject. EM'BẠS-sy. One or more persons 10 YACHT (yöt). A small pleasure
sent from one government to an vessel.
11 Fire'-ships. Ships filled with com. 6 SQUAL'ID (skwollid). Filthy.
bustibles, to set fire to an enemy's 7 Sõ'JOYRNED. Dwelt for a time.
vessels. 8 RĚT'I-NŪE (-nū). Train of attend- 12 ÂU-GUST'. Impressing awe; grand; ants; a suite.
LXXXIII. — THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT.
WEBSTER. [Daniel Webster, an eminent patriot, lawyer, and statesman, was born in Salisbury, New Hampshire, January 18, 1782, and died October 24, 1852. For the last thirty years of his life he was in the public service as a Representative in Congress, or Senator, or Secretary of State. He was a man of great intellectual powers, and of striking and commanding personal appearance. The following extract is taken from an oration delivered at the celebration of the completion of the Bunker Hill Monument in 1843.]
1. THE Bunker Hill Monument is finished! Here it stands ! Fortunate in the natural eminence on which it is placed, higher, infinitely higher, in its objects and purpose, it rises over the land, and over the sea; and, visible at their homes to three hundred thousand citizens of Massachusetts, it stands, a memorial of the past, and a monitor’ to the present and all succeeding generations.
2. I have spoken of the loftiness of its purpose. If it had been without any other design than the creation of a work of art, the granite of which it is composed would have slept in its native bed. It has a purpose; and that purpose gives it character. That purpose enrobes it with dignity and moral grandeur. That well-known purpose it is which causes us to look up to it with a feeling of awe.
3. It is itself the orator of this occasion. It is not from my lips, it is not from any human lips, that that strain of eloquence is this day to flow, most competent to move and excite the vast multitudes around. The potent: speaker
ts nativacter. Thahat we!
stands motionless before them. It is a plain shaft. It bears no inscriptions fronting to the rising sun, from which the future antiquarian* shall wipe the dust. Nor does the rising sun cause tones of music to issue from its summit. But at the rising of the sun, and at the setting of the sun, in the blaze of noonday, and beneath the milder effulgence • of lunar light, it looks, it speaks, it acts, to the full comprehension of every American mind, and the awakening of glowing enthusiasm in every American heart.
4. Its silent but awful utterance?, its deep pathos, as it brings to our contemplation the 17th of June, 1775, and
je consequences which have resulted to us, to our counh and to the world from the events of that day, and which we know must continue to rain influence on the destinies of mankind to the end of time, – the elevation with which it raises us high above the ordinary feelings of life, — surpass all that the study of the closet, or even the inspiration of genius, can produce.
5. To-day it speaks to us. Its future auditories & will be through successive generations of men, as they rise up before it, and gather round it. Its speech will be of patriotism and courage; of civil and religious liberty; of free government; of the moral improvement and elevation of mankind, and of the immortal memory of those who, with heroic devotion, have sacrificed their lives for their country.
1 ME-MO'R!-ẠL. That which calls to 15 ĘP-FOL'GÊNCE. Lustre; brightremembrance ; a monument.
ness; radiancc. 2 MÕN'Ị TỌR. That which warns or O CÓM-PRE-HĚN'SIỌN. Act or power admonishes.
of understanding. 8 PŌ TENT. Powerful.
17 ÚT'TER-ANCE. speech: speaking 1 ĂN-TI-QUA'RỊ-ẠN. One versed in the 8 ÂU'DỊ-TO-RIEỹ. Assemblages of remains or records of ancient times. hearers ; audiences.
LXXXIV.- THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD.
LONGFELLOW. (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a native of Portland, Maine, and was grad. uated at Bowdoin College in 1825. He was Professor of Modern Languages at Bowdoin College for several years, and held a similar professorship in the University at Cambridge from 1836 to 1851. Mr. Longfellow holds a very high rank among the authors of America, and is one of the most popular of living poets.
1. This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But from their silent pipes no anthem ’ pealing
Startles the villagers with strange alarms.
2. Ah, what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the Death-Angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere 3
Will mingle with their awful symphonies !
3. I hear, even now, the infinite fierce chorus,
The cries of agony, the endless groan,
In long reverberations reach our own.
4. On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer,
Through Cimbric * forest roars the Norseman's † song, And loud amid the universal clamor,
O’er distant deserts, sounds the Tartar † gong.
5. I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, And Aztec priests, upon their teocallis ,
Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin.
of CÍM'BRĪ. An ancient people of Denmark,
| TÄR'TA-RY. A name applied to a vast region of Central Asia, and some times to a portion of Eastern Europe,
O XZ'TĘCS. The nation of the Aztecas was one of the native tribes or na tjans inhabiting Mexico previous to the invasion of the Spaniards.