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my brother Job, is of as tame a spirit; Humphrey, you remember my brother Job?

the

Hum. Yes, you drove him to Russia five-and-twenty years ago. Sir R. I did not drive him.

Hum. Yes, you did. You would never let him be at peace in way of argument.

Sir R.
Hum.

Sir R.

At peace! Zounds, he would never go to war.
He had the merit to be calm.

So has a duck-pond. He received my arguments with his mouth open, like a poor-box gaping for half-pence, and, good or bad, he swallowed them all without any resistance. could n't disagree, and so we parted.

Hum.

quiet life.

We

And the poor, meek gentleman went to Russia for a

Sir R. A quiet life! Why he married the moment he got there, tacked himself to the shrew relict of a Russian merchant, and continued a speculation with her in furs, flax, potashes, tallow, linen, and leather; what's the consequence? Thirteen months ago he broke.

Hum. Poor soul, his wife should have followed the business for him.

Sir R. I fancy she did follow it, for she died just as he broke, and now this madcap, Frederic, is sent over to me for protection. Poor Job, now he is in distress, I must not neglect his son. Hum. Here comes his son; that's Mr. Frederic.

Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, good morning! Your park is nothing but beauty.

Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty? stay in-doors till I got up.

Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it.

Sir R. And pray, what made you forget it?

Fred. The sun.

I told you to

Sir R. The sun! he's mad! you mean the moon, I believe. Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, you do n't know the effect of a fine spring morning, upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while you were snoring in bed,

uncle.

Sir R. Oh, oh! So the effect of English sunshine upon a Russian, is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my deer.

Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me.

Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. Fred. I hate legacies.

Sir R. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens, at least.

Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are posthumous despatches, affection sends to gratitude, to inform us we have lost a gracious friend.

Sir R. How charmingly the dog argues!

Fred.

But I own my spirits ran away with me this morning. I will obey you better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of gentleman.

Sir R. Now who had the familiar impudence to tell you that? Fred. Old rusty, there.

Sir R.

Why, Humphrey, you did n't?

Hum. Yes, but I did though.

Fred. Yes, he did, and on that score I shall be anxious to show you obedience, for 't is as meritorious to attempt sharing a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full breast high, uncle; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the pocket.

Sir R. [Shaking him by the hand.] Jump out of every window I have in the house; hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow Ay, that's right. This is spunk and plain speaking. Give me a man, who is always flinging his dissent to my doctrines smack in my teeth.

Fred. I disagree with you there, uncle.

Hum.

And so do I.

Fred. You! you forward puppy ! If you were not so old, you down.

I'd knock

Sir R. I'll knock you down, if you do. I won't have my servants thumped into dumb flattery.

Hum. Come, you 're ruffled. Let us go to the business of the morning.

you see

Sir R. I hate the business of the morning. Don't we are engaged in discussion. I tell you, I hate the business of the morning.

Нит. No you do n't.

Sir R. Don't I? Why not?

Hum. Because it's charity.

Sir R. Pshaw! Well, we must not neglect the business, if there be any distress in the parish; read the list, Humphrey. Hum. [Taking out a paper and reading.] "Jonathan Huggins, of Muck Mead, is put in prison for debt."

Sir R. Why, it was only last week that Gripe, the attorney, recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds.

Hum. Yes, and charged a hundred for his trouble; so seized the cottage for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail for the remainder.

Sir R. A harpy! I must relieve the poor fellow's distress.

Fred. And I must kick his attorney.

Hum. [Reading.] "The curate's horse is dead."
Pshaw! There's no distress in that.

Sir R.
Hum.

Yes there is, to a man that must go twenty miles every Sunday to preach, for thirty pounds a year.

Sir R. Why won't the vicar give him another nag?

Hum. Because its cheaper to get another curate already mounted.

Sir R. Well, send him the black pad which I purchased last Tuesday, and tell him to work him as long as he lives. What else have we upon the list?

Hum. Something out of the common; there's one Lieutenant Worthington, a disabled officer and a widower, come to lodge at farmer Harrowby's, in the village; he is, it seems, very poor, and more proud than poor, and more honest than proud.

Sir R. And so he sends to me for assistance.

Hum. He'd see you hanged first! No, he'd sooner die than ask you or any man for a shilling! There's his daughter, and his wife's aunt, and an old corporal that served in the wars with him, he keeps them all upon his half-pay.

Sir R. Starves them all, I'm afraid, Humphrey.
Fred. [Going.] Good morning, uncle.

Sir R. You rogue, where are you running, now?
Fred. To talk with Lieutenant Worthington.

Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him?

Fred. I can't tell till I encounter him; and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who has been disabled in his country's service, and is struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my sentiments. Sir R. Stop you rogue; I must be before you in this busi

ness.

Fred. That depends on who can run the fastest; so, start fair, uncle, and here goes.-[Runs out.]

Sir R. Stop, stop; why, Frederic-a jackanapes-to take my department out of my hands! I'll disinherit the dog for his

assurance.

Hum. No you won't.

Sir R. Won't I? Hang me if I—but we'll argue that point as we go. So, come along Humphrey.

COLMAN.

LESSON CCXVIII.

STAR-LIGHT ON MARATHON.

1. No +vesper-breeze is floating now,
No murmurs shake the air;

A gloom hath vailed the mountain's brow.
And +quietude is there;

The night-beads on the dew-white grass
Drop brilliant as my footsteps pass.

2. No hum of life disturbs the scene,
The clouds are rolled to rest;

"T is like a calm where grief hath been,
So welcome to the breast!

The warning tones of day have gone,
And star-light glows on Marathon.

3. I look around from earth to sky,
And gaze from star to star;
Till Grecian hosts seem gliding by,
Triumphant from the war:

Like sleepless spirits from the dead,
Revisiting where once they bled.

4. What though the mounds that marked each name, Beneath the wings of Time,

Have worn away, theirs is the fame,
Immortal and sublime;

For who can tread on Freedom's plain,
Nor wake her dead to light again?

5. Oh! to have seen the marching bands,
And heard the battle clash,

Have seen their weapon-clinching hands,
And eyes +defiance flash,

Their radiant shields, and dancing crests
And corselets on their swelling breasts.

6. Then said the mother to the son,

And pointed to his shield;

"Come with it, when the battle's done,
Or on it, from the field!"*

Then mute she glanced her fierce, bright eye,
That spoke of ages vanished by.

7. 'T was here they fought: and +martial peals
Once thundered o'er the ground,

And gash and wound from plunging steels
+Bedewed the battle mound;

*The loss of the shield was considered disgraceful.

[blocks in formation]

1. To the left of the Athenians was a low chain of hills, clothed with trees; to their right, a torrent; their front was long; for, to render it more imposing in extent, and to prevent being +out-flanked by the Persian numbers, the center ranks were left weak and shallow; but, on either wing, the troops were drawn up more solidly and strong. Callimachus commanded the right wing; the Platæans formed the left; the whole was commanded by Miltiades. They had few, if any, horsemen or archers.

2. The details which we possess of their arms and military array, if not in this, in other engagements of the same period, will complete the picture. We may behold them clad in bright armor of a good proof and well tempered, which covered breast and back; the greaves, so often mentioned by Homer, were still retained; their helmets were wrought and crested, the + cones mostly painted in glowing colors, and the plumage of feathers, or horse-hair, rich and waving in proportion to the rank of the wearer. Broad, sturdy, and richly ornamented were their bucklers, the pride and

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