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He wound us up to be mere machines of pity, and rendered us incapable of withstanding the slightest impulse, made either by real or fictitious distress. In a word, we were perfectly instructed in the art of giving away thousands before we were taught the necessary qualifications of getting a farthing."

9. In Goldsmith's “ Deserted Village” we have another picture of his father and his father's fireside:

four
“ His house was known to all the vagrant train,

He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ;
The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ;
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ;
The broken soldier, kindly băde to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,

His pity gave ere charity began.”. 10. Oliver's education commenced when he was about three years old; that is to say, he was gathered under the wings of one of those good old motherly dames, found in every village, who cluck together the whole callow brood of the neighborhood, to teach them their letters and keep them out of harm's way. At six years of age he passed into the hands of the village schoolmaster, one Thomas Byrne, or, as he was commonly and irreverently named, Paddy Byrne, a capital tutor for a poet.

11. Goldsmith is supposed to have had him and his school in view in the following sketch in the “Deserted Village”:

“Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,

There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school.
A man severe he was, and stern to view,
I knew him well, and every truant knew ;
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disăsters in his morning face ;
Full well they laughed with counterfeited gloo
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,

Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned." 12. Byrne had brought with him from the wars a world of campaigning stories, of which he was generally the hero, and which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars, when he ought to have been teaching them their lessons. These stories had a powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.

13. An amusing incident is related as occurring to Goldsmith, while yet a lad, in one of his journeys. He had procured a horse, and a friend had furnished him with a guinea for traveling expenses. He was but a stripling of sixteen, and being thus suddenly mounted on horseback, with money in his pocket, it is no wonder that his head was turned. He determined to play the man, and to spend his money in independent traveler's style.

14. Accordingly, instead of pushing directly for home, he halted for the night at the little town of Ardagh, and, accosting the first person he met, inquired, , with somewhat of a consequential air, for the best house in the place. Unluckily, the person he had accosted was one Kelly, a notorious

wag,

who quartered in the family of one Mr. Featherstone, a gentleman of fortune. Amused with the self-consequence of the stripling, and willing to play off a practical joke at his expense, Kelly directed him to

was

what was literally " the best house in the place," namely, the family mansion of Mr. Featherstone.

15. Goldsmith accordingly rode up to what he sup'posed was an inn, ordered his horse to be taken to the stable, walked into the parlor, seated himself by the fire, and demanded what he could have for supper. On ordinary occasions he was diffident and even awkward in his manners, but here he was “at ease in his inn," and felt called upon to show his manhood and enact the experienced traveler.

16. His person was by no means calculated to play off his pretensions; for he was short and thick, with a pock-marked face, and an air and carriage by no means of a distinguished cast. The owner of the house, however, soon discovered his whimsical mistake, and, being a man of humor, determined to indulge it, especially as he accidentally learned that this intruding guest was the son of an old acquaintance. Accordingly Goldsmith was “fooled to the top of his bent,” and permitted to have full sway throughout the evening Never was schoolboy more elated.

17. When supper was served, he most condescendingly insisted that the landlord, his wife and daughter, should partake, and ordered a bottle of wine to crown the repast and benefit the house. His last flourish. was on going to bed, when he gave especial order to have a hot cake at breakfast. His confusion and dismay, on discovering the next morning that he had been swaggering in this free and easy way in the house of a private gentleman, may be readily conceived. True to his habit of turning the events of his life to literary account, he dramatized this chapter of ludicrous blunders and cross purposes, many years afterward, in his comedy of “She Stoops to Conquer; or, the Mistakes of a Night.'

WASHINGTON IRVING. (1783-1860.)

LI.

THE SUMMONS AND THE LAMENT.

Pr'BROCH (pi'brok), n., martial music CUM'BER, n., vexation ; trouble. produced by the bagpipe.

Cor’EI (cor'ray), n., side of the hill HĚad'y, a., rash ; impetuous.

where the game lies. PLAID (plăd), n., a striped cloth. FO'RAY, n., a sudden attack. GEAR, n., dress ; furniture.

PEN'NON, n., a banner. Rhythm (rịthm), n., measure of time SUF'FRAGE, n., vote; assent. in poetry or music.

CU'MU-LA-TIVE; a., heaped up. COR'O-NACH (-nak), n., a dirge. Vas'sal, n., a dependent.

Pronounce Beattie, Beet'y; Donuil, Don'nil; de-ceased', not deceazed.

1. We are told by Sir Walter Scott that those persons acquainted with the pipe-music of Scotland affect to discover, in a well-composed pibroch, the imitative sounds of a march, conflict, pursuit, and all the current of a heady fight. To this opinion Dr. Beattie has given his suffrage in the following passage:

2. “ A pibroch is a species of tune peculiar, I think, to the Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland. It is performed on a bagpipe, and differs totally from all other music. Its rhythm is so irregular, and its notes, especially in the quick movement, so mixed and huddled together, that a stranger finds it impossible to reconcile his ear to it, so as to perceive its modulation.

3. “Some of these pibrochs, being intended to represent a battle, begin with a grave motion, resembling a march; then gradually quicken into the onset; run off with noisy confusion and turbulent rapidity, to imitate the conflict and pursuit; then swell into a few flourishes of triumphant joy; and perhaps close with the wild and slow wailings of a funeral procession."

4. In the following admirable poem, Sir Walter Scott seems to have tried to convey, as far as he could by language, an idea of this imitative modulation. The first two stanzas should be delivered in a moderate

though animated style. At the third stanza the reader's utterance should increase in rapidity, and then rise louder and louder, and quicker and quicker, with cumulative force, to the conclusion.

1

• Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan Conuil !
Come

away, come away — hark to the summons !
Come in your war array, Gentles and Commons !

« Come from deep glen, and from mountain so rocky ;

The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and true heart that wears one;
Come

every steel blade, and strong hand that bears one.

“ Leave untended the herd, the flock without shelter ;

Leave the corpse uninterred, the bride at the altar ;
Leave the deer, leave the steer, leave nets and barges ;
Come with your fighting gear, broadswords and targes.

• Come, as the winds come, when forests are rended ;

Come, as the waves come, when navies are stranded.
Faster come, faster come, faster and faster!
Chief, vassal, page and groom, tenant and master !

Fast they come, fast they come, see how they gather !
Wide waves the eagle's plume, blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades ; forward each man set !
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, knell for the onset !

5. The coronach of the Highlanders, like the ululoo or funeral song of the Irish, was a wild expression of lamentation, poured forth by the mourners over the body of a departed friend. When the words of it were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased, and the loss the clan would sustain by his death. Sir Walter Scott has given us an exquisite imitation of the coronach in the following lines. They afford an excellent exercise in low vocal pitch, and in a modulation, slow, impressive, and pathetic as a funeral march.

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