COMPOSITION.-(1) Give, in your own words, the meaning of

(2) Say, first, what good the humble lot of the rude forefathers prevented them from doing: and, next, what crimes it saved them from committing.

(3) Make a list of the lines or phrases in the Elegy which have passed into our every day language.

LESSON 36.

THE STAGE COACH.

Washington Irving (1783-1859), the first, and one of the greatest of the writers of note produced by the United States of America, was born in New York, a few months before General Washington entered the city, which the English had been compelled to give up, and the child was named in honour of the "Father of his Country". He was bred to the law, but not being obliged to earn his living he amused himself with writing, and, with the aid of some friends, brought out Salmagundi," a periodical something like the Spectator, and a comic "History of New York". But when, in 1817, his brothers' firm, which he had joined, failed, he had to live by his pen. He paid three long visits to Europe, and came to know and love England as much as if he had been a born Englishman. Indeed, his style was more English than American-much like Addison's or Goldsmith's. What he saw in England is described in his "Sketch Book," and "Bracebridge Hall". A long residence in Spain enabled him to write The Conquest of Granada," and "Legends of the Conquest of Spain". He also wrote lives of Mahomet, of George Washington, and of Columbus.

66

IN the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode for a long distance in one of the public coaches, on the day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations or friends, to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of delicacies; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the coachman's box, presents from distant friends for the impending feast. I had three fine rosy-cheeked schoolboys for my fellow-passengers inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit which I have observed in the children of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of the little. rogues, and the wonderful feats they were to perform during their six weeks' freedom from the thraldom of

book, birch, and master. They were full of anticipations of the meeting with the family and household, down to the very cat and dog; and the joy they were to give their little sisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony. How he could trot! how he could run! and then such leaps as he would take-there was not a hedge in the whole county that he could not clear.

They were in charge of the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented, they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the world. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of holly stuck in the buttonhole of his coat. He is always full of mighty care and business; but he is particularly so during this season, having so many commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange of presents.

He has commonly a broad full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by a multiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed lowcrowned hat; a huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom; and has in summer time a large bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole. His waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, striped, and his small-clothes

extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey boots which reach about half-way up his legs.

All this costume is maintained with much precision; he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is still discernible that neatness and propriety of person which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consideration along the road. The moment he arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws down the reins with something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the ostler; his duty being merely to drive from one stage to another. When off the box, his hands are thrust into the pockets of his greatcoat, and he rolls about the inn yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of ostlers, stableboys, shoeblacks, and those nameless hangers-on that infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kinds of odd jobs. These all look up to him as to an oracle; treasure up his cant phrases; echo his opinions about horses, and other topics of jockey lore; and above all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every ragamuffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is a budding Coachey.

Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the journey. A stage coach, however, carries animation always with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The horn sounded at the entrance of a village produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth