a gentle milkman who will not kick, and feel as though I could trust him. Then, if he feels as though he could trust me, it is all right.

A LIST OF REFERENCE BOOKS.

NOTE. The following reference works of criticism. and biography, in addition to the authorized works of all the more prominent authors, should have a place in the library, and frequent reference be made to each to supplement the work in literature.

Appleton's Cyclopedia of American Biography.

Initial Studies in American Literature, Henry A. Beers. Chautauqua Print.

How to Tell a Story and Other Essays, Samuel L. Clemens. Harper.

Literary and Social Essays, George William Curtis. Harper.

Yesterdays With Authors, James T. Fields. Hough

ton.

Authors and Friends, Mrs. J. T. Fields. Small.
Authors at Home, Gilder. Cassell.

Literary Friends and Acquaintance, W. D. Howells. Harper.

Letters to Dead Authors, Andrew Lang. Scribner. Pioneers of Southern Literature, Link. Barbee. American Literature, Richardson. Putnam.

Poets of America, Stedman. Houghton.

Library of American Literature. II vols. Stedman and Hutchinson.

American Poets and Their Homes, Stoddard. Lathrop. Literary Shrines, Wolfe. Lippincott.

Makers of Literature, Woodberry. Macmillan.

It is, indeed, the gift of poetry to hallow every place in which It moves; to breathe round nature an odor more exquisite than the perfume of the rose, and to shed over it a tint more magical than the blush of morning.-Washington Irving.

CHAPTER VII.

THE GREAT BRITISH POETS.

"Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hearts, in glad surprise,

To higher levels rise'

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

ROBERT BURNS.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

GEORGE GORDON BYRON.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

ROBERT BROWNING.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

Its use is to lift the mind out of the beaten, dusty, weary walks of life, to raise it into a purer element, and breathe into it a more profound and generous emotion.-Dr. Channing on Poetry.

WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

1564-1616.

"The Bard of Avon."

"The Sweet Swan of Avon."

The name of Shakespeare is the greatest in our literature; it is the greatest in all literature. -Hallam.

Shakespeare is of no age. He speaks a language which thrills in our blood in spite of the separation of two hundred years. His thoughts, passions, feelings, strains of fancy, all are of this day as they were of his own; and his genius may be contemporary with the mind of every generation for a thousand years to come. -Prof. Wilson.

O

VER THREE centuries have been added to Father Time since William Shakspere, the greatest of all poets, first contributed his genius to the world, but the language which he spoke still thrills in our blood in spite of this long period of years. Many of Shakspere's imaginary men and women are drawn with such matchless power and vividness that they are more real to us than the real men and women we meet every day, and their influence is much greater. He was a close student of human nature and his plays reflect as in a mirror the looks, words and actions of the men and women whom he met. Always it is the "Caesar" which draws all eyes, not the chariot in which he rides, or the robes which he wears. As Mrs. Jameson says of Portia: "She treads as though

*Note-Shakspere died four years before the Pilgrims landed at

Plymouth.

her footsteps had been among marble palaces, beneath roofs of fretted gold, o'er cedar floors and pavements of jasper and porphyry-amid gardens full of statues, and flowers, and fountains, and haunting music." Shakspere was also a lover of Nature and his poetry contains some of the most exquisite pictures.

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where ox-lips, and the nodding violet grows;
Quite over-canopied with the lush woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine.
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference, or the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which when it bites, and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

William Shakspere was born in the month of April, 1564, at Stratford-on-Avon, a small town in Warwickshire, England. His father was a respectable tradesman of much natural ability, but "innocent of books," who served his town first as alderman and then as mayor. His mother was Mary Arden, whose ancestors had belonged to the Warwickshire gentry since before the conquest, and two of whom had held places of distinction.