De La Salle Fifth Reader - Brothers of the Christian Schools
It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
love.
One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
unjust.
"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
Who art in heaven."
From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
Truth, and the Life."
[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
* * * * *
Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
* * * * *
_56_
HAPPY OLD AGE.
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
"The few locks that are left you are gray;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
"I remembered that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
That I never might need them at last."
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hastening away;
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."
_Robert Southey._
* * * * *
Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
important lessons it teaches?
* * * * *
_57_
smit' ing
el' o quence
mes' mer ize
ges' ture
vin' e gar
un dy' ing ly
KIND WORDS.
Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
nature into us.
Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
word.
Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
holiness, and so of winning men to God.
If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
kind words.
_Father Faber._
From "Spiritual Conferences."
* * * * *
Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
said to him, or for him to say them to another?
Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
Memory Gems:
Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
learning.
_Father Faber._
You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
barrels of vinegar.
_St. Francis de Sales._
* * * * *
_58_
KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
Memorize:
"What is the real good?"
I asked in musing mood.
Order, said the law court;
Knowledge, said the school;
Truth, said the wise man;
Pleasure, said the fool;
Love, said the maiden;
Beauty, said the page;
Freedom, said the dreamer;
Home, said the sage;
Fame, said the soldier;
Equity, said the seer;--
Spake my heart full sadly:
"The answer is not here."
Then within my bosom
Softly this I heard:
"Each heart holds the secret:
Kindness is the word."
_John Boyle O'Reilly._
* * * * *
SAGE, a wise man.
SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
* * * * *
_59_
va' cant
joc' und
pen' sive
spright' ly
sol' i tude
daf' fo dils
con tin' u ous
DAFFODILS.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company.
I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
_William Wordsworth._
* * * * *
MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
composed of millions of stars.
1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
his loneliness?
What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
doing?
What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
were? How would you tell it?
How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
were doing?
3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
the waves?
What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
eye?"
How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
poet?
What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
Commit the poem to memory.
[Illustration:]
* * * * *
_60_
hos' tile
en dowed'
tu' mult
ac' o lyte
ep' i taph
grav' i ty
com' bat ants
pref' er ence
a maz' ed ly
ath let' ic
Vi at' i cum
in her' it ance
cem' e ter y
re tal' i ate
un flinch' ing ly
ir re sist' i ble
un vi' o la ted
con temp' tu ous ly
THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
discharge this duty.
The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
admiration of the picture before him.
"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
low, thoroughfares.
As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
had a child like thee!"
"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
their leader.
"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
importance."
"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
done. So come, join us at once."
"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
I will put it by safe while we play."
"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
purpose.
"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
Christian."
The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
was the same then as now:
"Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
The mob profanely bade him to display;
He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
_Cardinal Wiseman._
From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
waist by a girdle.
SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
_natural_.
-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
for sending it.
Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
you like or dislike in each.
Memory Gems:
The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
Kept murmuring under breath:
"Before temptation--sacrifice!
Before dishonor--death!"
_Margaret J. Preston._
Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
Other men's failures can never save you;
Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
_George L. Taylor._
Heroes of old! I humbly lay
The laurel on your graves again;
Whatever men have done, men may--
The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
_Austin Dobson._
* * * * *
_61_
a jar'
chal' ice
a thwart'
rap' tur ous
sward
ter' race
jew' eled
ci bo' ri um
por' tal
vil' lain
au da' cious
sac ri le' gious
LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
(Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
* * * * *
Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
(Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
"And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
Around My Heart shall hover your winged ministries,
And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
* * * * *
MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
you can. Consult your dictionary.
* * * * *
_62_
stalked
ep'au lets
be hind' hand
se date'
trudg' ing
com pos' ed ly
fid' dler
strut' ted
ap pro ba' tion
re sumed'
af firmed'
dis a gree' a ble
whith er so ev' er
LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
moderate pace.
"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
never heard."