An ingenious projector, named Edward Heming, obtained letters patent, conveying to him for a term of years the exclusive right of lighting up London. He undertook for a moderate consideration to place a light before every tenth door on moonless nights, from Michaelmas to Lady Day, and from six to twelve of the clock. But Those who now see the capital all the year round, from dusk to dawn, blazing with a splendour compared with which the illuminations for La Hogue and Blenheim would have looked pale, may perhaps smile to think of Heming's lanterns, which glimmered feebly before one house in ten, during a small part of one night in three. such was not the feeling of his contemporaries. His scheme was enthusiastically applauded, and furiously attacked. The friends of improvement extolled him as the greatest of all the benefactors of his city. "What," they asked, "were the boasted inventions of Archimedes when compared with the achievement of the man who had turned the shades of night into the clearness of noontide ?" In spite of these eloquent praises, the cause of night was not left undefended. There were fools in that age who opposed the introduction of what was called the new light as vigorously as fools in our age have opposed the introduction of vaccination and railroads; as vigorously as the fools of an age before the dawn of history doubtless opposed the introduction of the plough and of alphabetical writing. Many years after the date of Heming's patent there were extensive districts in which no lamp was seen. Macaulay. 106. THE STORY OF HORATIUS. [Lars Porsena, King of Etruria, marched to besiege Rome, and would have taken it, had not his advance been foiled by three brave men, who kept him and his army at bay whilst the bridge behind them was being cut down.] And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Back darted Spurius Lartius; And, as they passed, beneath their feet And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, And whirling down, in fierce career, Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee!" cried Lars Porsena, "Now yield thee to our grace! Round turned he, as not deigning But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; "O Tiber! Father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. PART II. But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing, And heavy with his armour, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. Never, I ween, did swimmer, Struggle through such a raging flood And our good Father Tiber "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; We should have sacked the town! "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore ; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." And now he feels the bottom; He enters through the River-Gate, |