When they rouse our feelings, they do so, not that they may merely excite or amuse us, but that they may make us sympathise more fully with what they have to tell.
In these matters they are mostly alike; but in other matters you will find that they differ from each other greatly. Our language has come from two sources. One of these is the English language as talked by our remote ancestors, the other is the Latin language, which came to us through French, and from which we borrowed a great deal when our language was getting into the form it now has. Many of our words and expressions, therefore, are Old English, while others are borrowed from Latin. Some authors prefer to use, where they can, old English words and expressions, which are shorter, plainer, and more direct; others prefer the Latin words, which are more ornamental and elaborate, and perhaps fit for explaining what is obscure, and for showing us the difference between things that are very like. This is one great contrast; and there are others which you will see for yourselves as you go on. And while you notice carefully what is good in each, you should be careful not to imitate too exactly the peculiarities, which may be the faults, in any one.
INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON
During the last visit Dr. Johnson paid to Lichfield, the friends with whom he was staying missed him one morning at the breakfast-table. On inquiring after him of the servants, they understood he had set off from Lichfield at a very early hour, without mentioning to any of the family whither he was going. The day passed without the return of the illustrious guest, and the party began to be very uneasy on his account, when, just before the supper-hour, the door opened, and the doctor stalked into the room. A solemn silence of a few minutes ensued, nobody daring to inquire the cause of his absence, which was at last relieved by Johnson addressing the lady of the house in the following manner:—"Madam, I beg your pardon for the abruptness of my departure from your house this morning, but I was constrained to it by my conscience. Fifty years ago, madam, on this day, I committed a breach of filial piety, which has ever since lain heavy on my mind, and has not till this day been expiated. My father, as you recollect, was a bookseller, and had long been in the habit of attending Lichfield market, and opening a stall for the sale of his books during that day. Confined to his bed by indisposition, he requested me, this time fifty years ago, to visit the market, and attend the stall in his place. But, madam, my pride prevented me from doing my duty, and I gave my father a refusal. To do away the sin of this disobedience, I this day went in a post-chaise to Lichfield, and going into the market at the time of high business, uncovered my head, and stood with it bare an hour before the stall which my father had formerly used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by and the inclemency of the weather—a penance by which I hope I have propitiated Heaven for this only instance, I believe, of contumacy towards my father."
Warner's Tour in the Northern
Counties.
[Notes: Dr. Samuel Johnson, born 1709, died 1784 By hard and unaided toil he won his way to the front rank among the literary men of his day. He deserves the honour of having been the first to free literature from the thraldom of patronage.
Filial piety. Piety is used here not in a religious sense, but in its stricter sense of dutifulness. In Virgil "the Pious Aneas" means "Aneas who showed dutifulness to his father."]
THE OLD PHILOSOPHER AND THE YOUNG LADY
"Alas!" exclaimed a silver-headed sage, "how narrow is the utmost extent of human knowledge! I have spent my life in acquiring knowledge, but how little do I know! The farther I attempt to penetrate the secrets of nature, the more I am bewildered and benighted. Beyond a certain limit all is but conjecture: so that the advantage of the learned over the ignorant consists greatly in having ascertained how little is to be known.
"It is true that I can measure the sun, and compute the distances of the planets; I can calculate their periodical movements, and even ascertain the laws by which they perform their sublime revolutions; but with regard to their construction, to the beings which inhabit them, their condition and circumstances, what do I know more than the clown?– Delighting to examine the economy of nature in our own world, I have analyzed the elements, and given names to their component parts. And yet, should I not be as much at a loss to explain the burning of fire, or to account for the liquid quality of water, as the vulgar, who use and enjoy them without thought or examination?—I remark, that all bodies, unsupported, fall to the ground, and I am taught to account for this by the law of gravitation. But what have I gained here more than a term? Does it convey to my mind any idea of the nature of that mysterious and invisible chain which draws all things to a common centre?—Pursuing the track of the naturalist, I have learned to distinguish the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms, and to divide these into their distinct tribes and families;—but can I tell, after all this toil, whence a single blade of grass derives its vitality?—Could the most minute researches enable me to discover the exquisite pencil that paints the flower of the field? and have I ever detected the secret that gives their brilliant dye to the ruby and the emerald, or the art that enamels the delicate shell?—I observe the sagacity of animals—I call it instinct, and speculate upon its various degrees of approximation to the reason of man; but, after all, I know as little of the cogitations of the brute as he does of mine. When I see a flight of birds overhead, performing their evolutions, or steering their course to some distant settlement, their signals and cries are as unintelligible to me as are the learned languages to an unlettered mechanic: I understand as little of their policy and laws as they do of 'Blackstone's Commentaries.'
"Alas! then, what have I gained by my laborious researches but an humbling conviction of my weakness and ignorance! Of how little has man, at his best estate, to boast! What folly in him to glory in his contracted powers, or to value himself upon his imperfect acquisitions!"
"Well!" exclaimed a young lady, just returned from school, "my education is at last finished: indeed, it would be strange if, after five years' hard application, anything were left incomplete. Happily, it is all over now, and I have nothing to do but exercise my various accomplishments.
"Let me see!—as to French, I am mistress of that, and speak it, if possible, with more fluency than English. Italian I can read with ease, and pronounce very well, as well at least, and better, than any of my friends; and that is all one need wish for in Italian. Music I have learned till I am perfectly sick of it. But, now that we have a grand piano, it will be delightful to play when we have company. And then there are my Italian songs, which everybody allows I sing with taste, and as it is what so few people can pretend to, I am particularly glad that I can. My drawings are universally admired, especially the shells and flowers, which are beautiful, certainly: besides this, I have a decided taste in all kinds of fancy ornaments. And then, my dancing and waltzing, in which our master himself owned that he could take me no farther;—just the figure for it certainly! it would be unpardonable if I did not excel. As to common things, geography, and history, and poetry, and philosophy, thank my stars, I have got through them all! so that I may consider myself not only perfectly accomplished, but also thoroughly well informed.
"Well, to be sure, how much I have fagged through; the only wonder is that one head can contain it all!"
[Note: "Blackstone's Commentaries" The great standard work on the theory and practice of the English law; written by Sir William Blackstone (1723-1780).]
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
Under a spreading chestnut tree,
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are
