« PreviousContinue »
by a diagram. There is even less aid derived from rules in reading than in singing) for music is, in a great degree, a matter of strict science; while reading, after the alphabet is learned, is altogether an art;—an art, indeed, which requires a quick perception, a delicate taste, a good understanding, and, especially, a faculty of nicely discriminating and accurately expressing the various shades of an author's meaning;—but, still, an art that is less capable than music of being reduced to definitive rules, or of being taught by them.
To become a good reader or a good speaker, the best examples of elocution, in these respective departments, must be seen, and heard, and studied. The tones that express particular emotions and passions must be caught by the ear. The same organ must inform us what is meant by the very terms in which all rules must be expressed,—what is meant by a rapid or deliberate enunciation; what by speaking loudly or softly^ on a high or low key, with emphasis or in a monotony, distinctly or indistinctly. We may amuse ourselves, if we please, with laying down rules upon these matters, but, till our rules are illustrated by the voice and manner of a good reader, they are totally inoperative; and, when thus illustrated, totally unnecessary. The learner imitates the example of reading which is given in explaining a rule, and the rule itself is forsaken and soon forgotten.
It seems to me that the readiest, indeea the only good way, to teach children to read well, is, to give them to the charge of instructers who are themselves good readers;—instructers, who. like teachers of music, will not content themselves with laying certain rules for regulating the tones, inflexions and cadences of the voice before your child's eye, which can neither receive a sound nor give one, but who will address his ear with living instruction,— with the rich and informing melody of the human voice.
Secondly,—-in regard to the arrangement of the lessons, a different course has been pursued from that which has been usually followed in compilations of this kind.
By devoting fifty or more pages, in succession, to lessons of any one kind, whether narrative, didactic, or descriptive; then putting together all the dramatic pieces; then giving, in an unbroken series, all the specimens of eloquence from the senate, the pulpit, and the bar; and then, making the young literary pilgrim travel over many days' journey of poetry, albeit unsmitten with the love of song, and undesirous of being "wedded to immortal verse" —we may, indeed, secure to ourselves the credit of methodical arrangement; but we shall be sure to make few friends, either among teachers or learners;— among masters, who are not displeased with a little variety in their exercises, or among scholars, who must have it.
By a severe method, in the arrangement of reading lessons, the teacher is compelled to consult his own comfort, and to keep alive the interest of bis scholars, by frequently skipping from one part of the book to another; the consequence of which is, either that those pieces only are read which happen to be favorites, and those are so constantly read that they come ere long to be rehearsed almost by rote, and, therefore, with little thought and little improvement; or, if the master determines that, at all events, the book shall be resolutely read through in course, the consequence is that the children soon get heartily tired of it, while the poor man cannot find it in his heart to blame them, for he is heartily tired of it himself.
With a view to obviate this difficulty, I have studiously avoided that method which to some may seem indispensable to the reputation of every literary work, and have been governed by considerations of practical utility, in so arranging the following lessons that they may be read in course, and at the same time present that variety, in the frequent alternation of prose and poetry, and the constant succession of different subjects in each, which will relieve both learner and teacher from that sameness, which makes it an irksome task to either give or receive instruction.
It will be perceived, however, that I have not been entirely unmindful of method., I have endeavored to consult the capacity of the scholar, and to provide for his gradually increasing strength, by giving the precedence, in the book, to pieces that are plain and easy, and reserving, for the latter part of it, such as will call for a more mature judgment and a more disciplined taste in reading.
It will be seen, moreover, from the table of contents, that the selection contains pieces of everv kind, usually found ir works of this nature; and that the book is not without order, so far as order has been deemed useful.
Since the days of Addison ani Pope, and even of Johuson, time, which shows the mutability of all human affairs, has wrought a considerable change in the manners of the English, in the objects of scientific attention, and in the character of literary labors among them. The style of their best writers, both of prose and verse, has undergone a corresponding change. The miscellaneous literature of the present day, however, is prott-bly as well adapted to the present modes of thinking and acting, ana to the present wants of society, as was the literature of the periodical essayists, and their contemporary poets, to the age of Anne: and, judging on the ground of comparative utility, wc ought, perhaps, in severe justice, to be as reluctant to prefer the poetry, especially, of Gay, and Pamell, and even of Pope, to that of Beattie. and Byron, and Campbell, as the contemporaries of Milttn and Dryden would, and should have beeiij to give Drayton and Spenser, and Chaucer the preference in comparison with the lights of their own age. An old coin may be as pure met&], and intrinsically as valuable, as a new one; and to the curious much mora valuable; but, for the ordinary purposes of life, it is useful no longer thnn it is current. So it is with literature—with the golden thoughts that have received the impress of genius. In the following work, therefore, I have drawn liberally from the literary treasures of our own age, not to the exclusion, however, of many pieces of old English poetry, especially of several from Shakspeare, which are common stock in works of this kind, and over which time has no power.
I have also laid under contribution the literature of our own country, and this I have done with the view of rendering the bock an acceptable offering to the American people, not so much by appealing to their national pride, as by making it more worthy of their approbation, on account of its intrinsic merits. It is not my province to decide upon the value of those pieces which are drawn from European sources, compared with those of American origin, in respect to the proofs they furnish of a cultivated literary taste, of poetical genius, of a mature and manly eloquence, and of pure and lofty moral sentiment. On this subject I choose rather to let the world decide for itself; and that this may be the more easily done, the latter are distinguished from the former, in the table of contents, by giving in small capitals, the names of their authors, or of the books from which they were taken. These form nearly one quarter of the volume. It might have deserved, and might meet, a more flattering reception from the public, had a still greater proportion of it consisted of the labors of our own authors. Of these there arc two classes, to whom it may be thought I owe an apology—those with whom I have taken liberties, and those from whom I have taken nothing.
In regard to the latter class, it is but justice to them, and to myself, to say that it has required an effort on my part to resist, rather than to feel and acknowledge; the claims of many writers among us, to a share in the honor of having Uieir names brought before the eye, and their strains of eloquence or poetry poured upon the ear, and made familiar to the mind of the rising generation. But such authors—among whom nre my personal friends, men whom I love and venerate—will do me the justice to consider, that much that is excellent in itself is not well adapted to the use of schools, and that had I taken all that is good in American literature, or even a tithe from each one of the authors of the present day who have done honor to their country, both at home and abroad, I should have swelled the hook to such a size as to effectually exclude it from school-houses; and thus should have defeated, at the threshold, the leading object of the compilation.
To the former class;—for the liberties which I have taken with what I now give forth under their name, in occasionally substituting one word for as other, in withdrawing some passages from their original connexion, and bringing others uito immediate conifer- which were originally separate, and in connecting then; by a phrase or a fn*i of my own—my answer is, first, that I have in no instance wantonly sacrificed or maimed the beautiful offspring of their imagination; and, secondly, my reason, for the violence that in any case has been offered them, was my wish to crowd as many of them as I could into the uarro'v space within which I am restricted, and so to group them that they might do all possible good in the;r present service, and tfius reflect all possible honor upon their parents.—When I have been compelled to amputate, I have conscientknsly endeavored to retrench only "those members of the body which seemed to be more feeble," that upon the others might be bestowed the i(rr.3re abundant honor." If I have broken off the legs and arms of the Farnese Hercules, it was that I mi^ht the belter display "the breadth of his shoulders, aud the spaciousness of his chest."
Without attempting to furnish schools with what might be denominated a pronouncing reader, 1 have, in many instances, indicated the proper pronunciation, either by such accents, attached to the words in the text as are generally understood, or, where tnese accents were insufficient, by a note at the foot of the page. This has been done only in words of which a vicious pronunciation has obtained in some parts of the country, and even these 1 have not uniformly or constantly marked 5 supposing it sufficient to have called the attention of teachers, once or twice, to any particular word. When the pron'tneiation of an English word is given, it is that of Walker. In orthography, the same standard has been followed, with perhaps one or two deviations upon ihe authority of Johnson.
In regard to errata, whether in respect to the real words of the author, the spelling, or the punctuation,, it is hoped that there will be no great cause of complaint. In many instances, in the lessons from Shakspeare especially, I have restored the genuine reading of the author, which has been corrupted in many other compilations. The punctuation too, which when incorrect, so constantly misleads the learner, and emoarrasses the learned, has been an object of assiduous care. Should any one be curious to compare particular pieces in this compilation, especially those from Shakspeare, with the same in other- school-books, he will probably feel that it is but just, before condemning this for differing from them, either in the reading or the punctuation, to refer to some good edition of the author, for satisfaction as to his words and then, by a careful comparison of the different modes of pointing, to judge which of them best discovers his meaning.
Sjch as I have been able to make the book, in respect to its arrangement, accuracy, and general character, it goes forth into the world without any letters of recommendation. The truth is, I have asked none for it. If it is a good book, the public understands its own interests too well to let it die. If it is not a good one, no recommendations can keep it alive. I have made it, in the hope that it might be an acceptable offering to schools, especially those of this city, in which there are many children who are the objects of my pastoral care. In regard to them, and the young in general, the book will fulfil my hopes, if, while it helps them on towards the end of their scholastic labors—the general improvement of their minds,—it shall enable them better 10 understand and discharge their duties in life, and lead them to contemplate with pleasure and religious reverence, the character of the Great Author of their being, as discovered in his works, his providence^ and his word; and thus help them to attain the end of their Christian faithy—the salvation of their souls.
Boston, June, 1823.
HISTORICAL OE FICTITIOUS.
4. The Chinese Prisoner, .... T. Percinal. 21
140. Singular adventure, . . . Bradbury's Travels. 311
160. Death of old Lewis Cameron, .... Wilson. 358
19. Feelings excited by a long voyage, . . W. Ieviho. 54
20. Brief description of Pompey's' Pillar,—Address
and fearlessness of British Sailors, . . . Irwin. 58
64. Supposed feelings of Adam, on being called
into existence, '• Buffon. 150
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS.
15. The Son, Dana. 43
16. The same—concluded, Ibid. 48
67. The "Widow and her Son, "W. Irving. 158
68. The same—concluded, Ibid. 161
72. Moss Side, - . . . Wilson. 170
73. The same—concluded, Ibid. 174