her. He took her on his knee again, but it was some time before it occurred to Silas's dull, bachelormind that the wet boots were the grievance pressing on her warm ankles. He got them off with difficulty, and baby was at once happily occupied with the primary mystery of her own toes, inviting Silas, with much chuckling, to consider the mystery, too. But the wet boots had at last suggested to Silas that the child had been walking on the snow; and this roused him from his entire oblivion of any ordinary means by which it could have entered, and been brought into his house. Under the promptings of this new idea, and without waiting to form conjectures, he raised the child in his arms, and went to the door. 66 As soon as he had opened it, there was the cry of 'Mammy" again, which Silas had not heard since the child's first hungry waking. Bending forward, he could just discern the marks made by the little feet on the virgin snow; and he followed their track to the furze bushes. "Mammy!" the little one cried again and again, stretching itself forward so as almost to escape from Silas's arms before he himself was aware that there was something more than the bush before him- that there was a human body, with the head sunk low in the furze, and half-covered with the shaken snow. GEORGE ELIOT-from "Silas Marner." Spell and pronounce: – invisible, chasm, marvel, unawares, porridge, blurred, fibers, bachelor, posture, coin, primary, furze, suggested, chuckling, examine, and presiding. Synonyms.-mysteriously-obscurely; secretly; occultly; darkly. agitate-move; excite; rouse. conjecture-surmise; idea; notion. discern-perceive; distinguish; discriminate. LESSON XXIX. ad věnt'ūr oùs, bold; enterprising. fleet'est, swiftest in motion. plet'ür ĕsque', forming a pleasing picture. muffled, indistinct; inaudible. A RACE FOR LIFE WITH A TIDE IN THE The long winter passed. March blew down warm gales that thawed the ice; the snow melted away; in April the bare willow boughs reddened like flames; spring came early across the fields. It was "Good Friday." After church, Miss Yuler walked on an errand to the village beyond, and the day being balmy, took her way along the shore. Miss Yuler had seldom followed this path, and, on this occasion, except to watch the picturesque tides of the Bay of Fundy, she had no fancy for looking over its stretches of color and foam. The tide was out; she walked rapidly, reached the village, and performed her errand. It was about two hours past noon when Van Voorst came down-stairs. Looking into the drawing-room where his grandmother was sitting, he exclaimed: "Where is Miss Yuler? Has she got home?" "Not that I know of," was. the reply. "Why, what is the matter?" "What time does the tide full ?" "About four." "It wants a quarter. She'll be overtaken!" And he dashed out to the stable. Madame Van Voorst followed quickly. "What are you about?" she cried, as he flung the saddle on Fautour. "You are not going to cross the sands now? Van! Van! you will be drowned!” He flung her off, away like the wind. sprang to the saddle, and was As is very well known, it is impossible for any one to cross the head of the bay when the roar of the distant tide has once been heard: the rushing tide overtakes the adventurous runner, and the fleetest horse cannot escape its speed. As Van's Fautour leaped down the rocks to the sand and began a hard gallop along the edge, a whisper like the rustle of wind in the pine-tops shivered through the air. Van's eyes grew fiercer: he pressed the spurs into the horse's sides and flew forward. The whisper crept hoarsely on his ear; it became voluminous; it gathered and swept its swift sighs and swelled and broke into a low roar. Still Van bounded on; he stood in the stirrup and strained his sight along the shore; the wind of the advancing tide blew in his uncovered hair. Suddenly, at a third of the distance across, Fautour stood still. Miss Yuler was standing quietly before him on the beach, her bonnet in her hand. She appeared to have been running, but must now have been motionless for several minutes. She had found it useless to make any further effort, and had abandoned the idea of life. On her face shone the awful pallor of those who confront death and await his approach. She saw Van; the color rushed up again into her cheek and lip. He gave his foot for a step without a word, seized her hands, lifted her before him, turned the horse about with a savage rapidity, and flew back. Neither spoke. It was now a race for life. On, spear's length by spear's length, bounded the horse; on, rushing and seething, chased the tide. Its chill breath stole across them; its damp swathed them; white wreaths of mist curled over their heads. On the right, the banks and crags seemed awaiting its flood. On the left, a narrow line of low waves crept on, peering into the bay, and tossing their snowy crests like troops of wild horses. Fautour felt the danger and did not need the spur: with his double burden he doubled his strides. On they raced. The dull and muffled tone of the sea broke full and sonorous. The separate hiss and splash became distinct. Scenting their prey, the waves came leaping in, three feet at a time, receding and foaming, and eddying up again. Off from the trembling sand to the rocks sprang Fautour. Up he clambered from steep to steep. One moment more, and they must have perished. The tide was full. Spell and pronounce : — thawed, exclaimed, gallop, perished, fiercer, errand, runner, stirrup, pallor, rapidity, doubled, separate, scenting, peering, sonorous, and clambered. Bay of Fundy, a long, narrow arm of the sea that stretches up between the shores of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. It is noted for its high tides, the waters sometimes rising to a height of sixty feet. fi'er y, resembling fire. tinge, slight color. LESSON XXX. pǎl'lor, paleness. hûrly, confusion. FARRAGUT'S BAY FIGHT. How they leaped, the tongues of flame, How the broadsides, deck and frame, And how the enemy's shell Came crashing, heavy and oft, Clouds of splinters flying aloft And falling in oaken showers;— But ah, the pluck of the crew! Had you stood on that deck of ours, You had seen what men may do. Never a nerve that failed, Not a tinge of gloom or pallor;- And the daring Yankee wit. There were blue eyes from turfy Shannon, There were black orbs from palmy Niger,— But there, alongside the cannon, Each man fought like a tiger. Right abreast of the fort In an awful shroud they lay, With flashes of fiery red, The thunder raging below, And the forest of flags o'erhead. So grand the hurly and roar, So fiercely their broadsides blazed, The regiments fighting ashore Forgot to fire as they gazed. |