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"tell him to march Webbe's regiment with all speed down to the St. Charles River, to cut off the retreat." "N His voice grew faint as he spoke, and he turned on his side, as if seeking an easier position. When he had given this last order, his eyes closed in death.

Wolfe's body was embalmed, and borne to the river for conveyance to England. The army escorted it in solemn state to the beach. They mourned their young general's death as sincerely as they had followed him in battle bravely.

WARBURTON.

Biography. William Warburton (1698-1779), commonly known as Bishop Warburton, was a distinguished English divine, whose services to the literature of his time are universally admitted.

Notes. — Heraldry in the lesson means "proud name," or "old and titled family," since heraldry is the science that relates to deciphering the meaning of the various devices and designs used as emblems by the old and titled families in kingdoms.

"God be praised! I die happy," according to another authority, were Wolfe's last words.

Elocution.- Pronounce in a whisper the following lines, as an exercise in articulation—

"In a few minutes, however, the rustling of the trees close at hand alarmed the French guard.”

Point out the words that are most difficult to pronounce in the first sentence of the second paragraph. Whisper them.

Language. Explain the difference in meaning of the following words-chief, commander, leader, general.

Compose a sentence in which any one of them could be correctly used; and then, if possible, compose two sentences in which the words can not be interchanged.

Select from the lesson two words which are synonymous.

Composition. In considering the question of merit in regard to a composition, we may ask the following questions

1. Does the treatment bear altogether upon the subject?

2. Is the treatment complete?

8. Is the language in keeping with the subject?

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"God be praised! I die happy (See page 434.)

97.-ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH

YARD.

ǎn'them, church music adapted to passages from the Scriptures.

çîr eum seribed', bounded;

limited.

ĕp'i tǎph (ĕp'ĭ tăf), a writing on

a tombstone in memory of the dead.

in ģĕn' û qùs, noble; frank.

con' tem plā’tion, reflection; | jõe und, merrily.

musing.

ig noble, mean; base.

měl'an eşŎl' y, grief; gloom.

im pūtè, charge; attribute. pregnant, teeming; filled. un făth'omed, unmeasured.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds,-

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team a-field!

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile

The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour:

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted
vault

The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn or animated bust

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

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