keeps up to something of that tremendous pace of a thousand miles an hour eastward, with which it started; and therefore when it comes up to us here, it is going eastward much faster than we are, and when it gets as far north as St. Petersburg, much faster still -continually, as it were, catching us up, and passing us, in wind rushing from the west towards the east. 17. So it is travelling east as well as north; therefore it is travelling, on the whole, northeast. But we name the winds not by the quarter which they are going to, but by the quarter which they are coming from. And as the wind comes to us from south and from west, we call it a south-west wind. 18. Do you understand that? If you do, you will be ready to ask another question. Why is there not a perpetual hurricane here, such as no man or house could stand upright in, making England an empty desert? 19. The air is stopped continually by friction -that is, by rubbing against other air, and against the earth. The south-west wind comes up to us here like a spent bullet, wearied with its course through the air. 20. It has to fight its way up against the earth, with its hills and trees and houses all trying to stop it, and against the north-east winds too, which are rushing in exactly the opposite direction, and it is continually checked and baffled by them; and the fiercest gale which we ever felt is but a little strip or flake of it which has, as it were, escaped, and run away for a few hundred miles. 21. But it will be soon tamed down and brought to reason, by thrusting and grinding against the north-east wind coming down from the icy regions of the Pole. THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. an-ces-tral, belonging to one's forefathers. fanes, churches. ham-let, a small village, rud-dy, red. 1. The stately homes of England [Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across the greensward bound And the swan glides by them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. 2. The merry homes of England! The blessed homes of England! How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath hours! word vili iz novasi di 3. The cottage homes of England! By thousands on her plains, They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, Through glowing orchards forth they peep, 4. The free, fair homes of England! 1. ai SUNDAY. O DAY most calm, most bright, The other days and thou Make up one man; whose face thou art, 3. 4. 5. 6. Making the whole to stoop and bow, Man had straight forward gone The which He doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are, On which heaven's palace arched lies: Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope: Thou art a day of mirth: And where the week-days trail on ground, |