Εικόνες σελίδας
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

tions; to this the extraordinary silence, as well as the pale beauty and floating hues that surround you, chiefly contributes. The silence is perfect-a wonder and a rapture. We hear the ticking of our watches-tick! tick!—or is it the beat of our own hearts? We are sure of the watch, and now we think we can hear both.

9. Two other sensations must by no means be forgotten. You become very cold and desperately hungry. Of the increased coldness which you feel on passing from a bright cloud into a dark one, the balloon is quite as sensitive as you can be, and probably much more so, for it produces an immediate change of altitude. The expansion and contraction which two romantic gentlemen fancied took place in the size of their heads does really take place in the balloon, according as it passes from a cloud of one temperature into that of another.

10. But here we are, still above the clouds! We may assume that you would not like to be "let off" in a parachute, even on the improved principle; we will therefore prepare for descending with the balloon. The valve-line is pulled, out rushes the gas from the top of the balloon, you see the flag fly upward; down through the clouds you sink, faster and faster, lower and lower. Now you begin to see dark masses below; there's the old earth again! The dark masses now discover themselves to be little forests, little towns, tree-tops, house-tops. Out goes a shower of sand from the ballast-bags, and our descent becomes slower; another shower, and up we mount again in search of a better spot to alight upon.

11. Our guardian aëronaut gives each of us a bag of ballast, and directs us to throw out its contents when he calls each of us by name and in such quantities only as he specifies. Moreover, no one is suddenly to leap out of the balloon when it touches the earth, partly because it may cost him his own life or limbs, and partly because it would cause the balloon to shoot up again with those who remained, and so make them lose the advantage of the good descent already gained, if nothing worse happened. Meantime, the grapnel-iron has been lowered, and is dangling down at the end of a strong rope of

a hundred and fifty feet long. It is now trailing over the ground.

12. Three journeymen bricklayers are in chașe of it. It catches upon a bank, it tears its way through. Now the three bricklayers are joined by a couple of fellows in smock-frocks, a policeman, five boys, followed by three girls, and last of all a woman with a child in her arms, all running, shouting, screaming, yelling, as the grapnel-iron and rope go trailing and bobbing over the ground before them. At last the iron catches upon a hedge, grapples with its roots; the balloon is arrested, but struggles hard; three or four men seize the rope, and down we are hauled. DICKENS.


SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Academy: Gr. aka-dē'mia; fr. Aca-de'mus, an ancient Greek, in whose grove or garden Plato taught. ... Aerial: L. a-e'rius; fr. a'er; Gr. a'ēr (áŋp), air; h., aero-lite (li'thos, stone), aero-naut (nau'tēs, a sailor), air, etc. Certain : L. cer'tus; h., as-certain (to make one's self certain), certify, certitude. . . . Conclave: L. concla've, a room that may be locked up; fr. con and cla'vis, a key. . . Contrive: F. controuver (kon-troo'vā), to fabricate; fr. con and trouver, to find. Condemn : J.. condem'no; fr. con and dam'num, loss, hurt; h., damage, damnable, danger, in-demnify, in-demnity. . . . Creature: L. cre-a-tu'ra; fr. cre'o, cre-a'tum, to bring forth, to produce; h., create, pro-create, re-creation. . . . Demolition: L. dēmoli'lio; fr. de and mo'lior, I set in motion; fr. mo'les, a shapeless mass, a burden; h., demolish, mole, molest, etc. . . . Discover: fr. dis, priv., and cover; fr. the L. co-opĕrio, co-oper'tum, to cover wholly; fr. con, intens., and opěr'io, I cover. . . . Elongate: fr. the L. lon'gus, long; h., longitude, ob-long (longer than broad), pro-long, etc. Enormous: L. enor'mus, out of rule; fr. e, out, and nor'ma, rule; h., ab-normal (not conformed to rule), norm (a rule or authoritative standard), normal (according to rule), etc. . . . Entire: v. FACT. Extraordinary: L. extraordina'rius; fr. extra, beyond, and ordina'rius, ordinary; fr. or'do, or'dinis, order; h., dis-order, in-ordinate (not orderly), insub-ordination, ordain, ordinal (noting order), ordinance (an established order), ordnance (cannon), sub-ordinate, etc. . . . Inflate: L. in'flo; fr. in and flo, fla'tum, to blow; h., af-flatus (lit., a blowing or breathing on; af — ad), flatulent, etc.... Intrepid: L. intrep'idus; fr. in, not, and trep'idus, trembling; h., trepidation, etc. . . . Journey: F. journée, day-time; fr. jour, a day; fr. the L. diur'nus, daily, di'es, a day; h., ad-journ, journal, sojourn (so = sub), etc. . . . Manage: fr. the F. menage: v. PERMANENT.... Million: L. L. millio; fr. L. mil'le, a thousand; h., millennium (a thousand years; fr. mil'le and an'nus, a year). . ... Mutilate: L. mu'tilo, mutila'tum; fr. mu'tilus, maimed. Parachute: F.; fr. părer (pă'rā), to parry, to ward off, and chute (shoot), a fall. . . . Penalty: L. pœ'na, indemnification, punishment; h., im-penitent, pain, penal, penance, penitent, re-pent, sub-pœna (lit., under penalty), etc.... Protrude : L. protru'do, protru'sum •


[ocr errors]

fr. pro, forward, and tru'do, tru'sum, to thrust; h., abs-truse (thrust from or away), de-trude (to thrust down), ex-trude, in-trude, in-trusion, ob-trude, retrude, un-ob-trusive, etc. . .. Publish: L. pub'lico, publica'tum, to make public; fr. publicus, contracted fr. popu'licus, relating to the people; fr. pop'ulus, the people; h., de-populate, people, populace, popular, populous, public, publican, re-public (L. respub'lica; fr. res, a thing, an affair, and publicus), etc. Quietude : L. quietu'do; fr. qui'ès, qui-e'tis, rest; h., acquiesce, coy, dis-quiet, quiescent, quietus (L. rest), re-quiem, etc. ... Retreat? v. ABSTRACT. . . . Scruple: L. scru'pulus, a small sharp stone, the smallest division of weight; h., scrupulous. . . . Simultaneous : L. L. simulta ne-us; fr. the L. sim'ul, together, at the same time. . . . Valve: L. val'væ, the leaves or folds of a door; h., bi-valve (bi=bis, twice), valvular.




'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear-
'Tis modulation that must charm the ear.

When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan,
And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone,
The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes
Can only make the yawning hearer doze.
That voice all modes of passion can express
Which marks the proper word with proper stress;
But none emphatic can the reader call
Who lays an equal emphasis on all.


Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll
Slow and deliberate as the parting toll;

Point every stop, mark every pause so strong,
Their words like stage-processions stalk along.
All affectation but creates disgust,

And even in speaking we may seem too just
In vain for them the pleasing measure flows,
Whose recitation runs it all to prose;
Repeating what the poet sets not down,
The verb disjoining from its friendly noun,
While intonation, pause and break combine
To make a discord in each tuneful line.


Some placid natures fill the allotted scene
With lifeless drone, insipid and serene;
While others thunder every couplet o'er,
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar.
More nature oft and finer strokes are shown
In the low whisper than tempestuous tone,
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze
More powerful terror to the mind conveys
Than he who, swollen with big impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage.


He who in earnest studies o'er his part
Will find true nature cling about his heart.
The modes of grief are not included all
In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl;
A single look more marks the internal woe
Than all the windings of the lengthened O!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul, is there.



SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Combine: L. combi'no, combina'tum; fr. con and bi'ni, two by two. Couple: L. co'pula, that which joins together; fr. co con and ap'o, I join. . . Deliberate: L. delib'ero, I weigh in the mind; fr. de, out of, and li'bra, a balance; h., equi-librium (œ'quus, equal).


Disgust: fr. L. degus'to, degusta'tum, to taste; dis and gus'tus, taste; h., gust, gusto, etc. Impetuous: L. impetuo'sus: v. APPETITE. . . . Phantom: contracted fr. the L. phantasma, something that appears; fr. the Gr. phan'tuzō, I show. Whisper: A. S. hwisprian; this word by its sound seems to be an onomatopy, as it expresses a sibilant sound or breathing. An onomatopy or onomatopoeia is in grammar and rhetoric a figure in which words are formed to resemble the sound made by the thing signified. The word is from the Gr. Ŏn'òma, name, and poi'ěō, I make. Such words as hiss, crash, rustle, etc. are onomatopoetic. Wrong: properly the perfect participle of wring; its real meaning is wrung, or twisted from the right.



1. A WEEK of buffeting a tempestuous sea, a week of seasickness and deserted cabins, of lonely quarter-decks drenched with spray, and the last night of the seven was the stormiest of all. There was no thunder, no noise but the pounding bows of the ship, the keen whistling of the gale through the cordage and the rush of the seething waters. But the vessel climbed aloft as if she would climb to heaven, then paused an instant that seemed a century, and plunged headlong down again as from a precipice. The waves swept the deck. The blackness of darkness was everywhere. At intervals a flash of lightning clove it with a quivering line of fire that revealed a heaving world of water, where was nothing before, kindled the dusky cordage to glittering silver and lit up the faces of the men with a ghastly lustre.

2. Fear drove on deck many who were used to avoiding the night winds and the spray. Some thought the vessel could not live through the night, and it seemed less dreadful to stand out in the midst of the wild tempest, and see the peril that threatened, than to be shut up in the sepulchral cabins, under the dim lamps, and imagine the horrors that were abroad on the ocean. And once out-once where they could see the ship struggling in the strong grasp of the storm-once where they could hear the shriek of the winds and face the driving spray, and look out upon the majestic picture the lightning revealedthey were prisoners to a fierce fascination they could not resist, and so remained. It was a wild night, and a very, very long


3. But on the lovely morning of the 30th of June everybody was sent scampering to the deck with the glad news that land was in sight. Dull eyes soon sparkled with pleasure, pallid cheeks flushed again and frames weakened by sickness gathered new life from the quickening influences of the bright, fresh morning. Within the hour we were fairly within the Straits of Gibraltar, the tall yellow hills of Africa on our right, with their bases veiled in a blue haze and their summits

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »