STRUCTURE OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. INSTRUCTION XVI. OUR MOTHER TONGUE. TRAVELS. AT the close of the first part of the Lingual Reader, Professor Cadmus and his family left home, expecting to spend the summer months in travelling in the West. Travels, in his view, formed part of a true system of education, and did much to enrich the heart. We must break up, he would often say, the monotony of life, by new scenes. If our feelings become stagnant, health and happiness are at an end. He had still higher views of the usefulness of travels. They make us acquainted with the ever-varying surface of the earth-its dread and beautiful scenery. Wonder is nursed by a change of place: thought grows into vastness, in contact with the great lakes, and rivers, and prairies of our native land. Nature, in his opinion, is the ablest teacher of childhood. The spirit that dwells on her hills, glides along her valleys, sports about her fountains, and nestles in the leaves of her great forests, allures and leads the young heart to thoughts and imaginings that can never die. With these impressions, Professor Cadmus left his home for the West. It was his custom to visit some part of his country every year. He had been at Niagara. He had wandered about Lake George. His foot had pressed many a rocky mountain ridge. Now, he wished to visit, with his family, Jefferson's Rock, in the Blue Ridge; scenes on the Ohio; St. Louis, and Cincinnati; and, above all, the Mississippi, the father of waters, with the grandeur of its shores. The summer passed away agreeably among those scenes. In the early part of October, the Professor and his family entered the seat of the Cadmus mansion. They entered it with prouder thoughts of their country. Wilmer was a wiser boy. After a few days, his studies were resumed. Professor Cadmus wished to give him an insight into the structure of the English language. This was to form the second part of the Lingual Reader. OUR MOTHER TONGUE. I wish, said Professor Cadmus, as he and his son took their seats for the first time in the study since their return from the West; I wish, said he, to talk to you about the STRUCTURE of the English language. I have told you much about its growth and history. I wish now to tell you a little about its structure. I will begin with our mothertongue. This, I think, will be a simple and pleasing beginning. Father, asked Wilmer, why is our language called our mother-tongue? For the same reason, answered Professor Cadmus, that we call our country our father-land. It is taught us by our mother. This is one reason. There is another one; one, too, that is full of interest. It is the mother-language of every person's speech who speaks it. As Mrs. Wisdom is the mother of Alfred, Nina, Winfield, and Celina Wisdom, and gave them life, so the English language is the mother of my language, your language, and the language of every American and Englishman. We have all drawn our speech from it, as from a vast treasury. It must be a great language, said Wilmer. I now begin to like great things. Yes, my son, said the father; it is great. Think of Webster's large Dictionary: it contains only the words of the English language, and their meanings. Father, said Wilmer, I am almost afraid to think of it. How can I ever learn all the words in that dictionary? No one wants you, my son, to learn them all, said Professor Cadmus. They are the words for all Americans and Englishmen. Each one takes from it, as from a common store, what he wants. You have taken more than a thousand words already from it, and will continue in the same way to take what you need, and when you need them. But, father, I do not know where to begin. Look at that dictionary! You say that I will gather up words as I have need of them. Just so, my son, said Professor Cadmus. So you picked up your first words. So you are picking them up daily. When we were out West, you saw many new objects, and learned as many new names. Now I see! said Wilmer. Mother told me, some time ago, that the English language was like a wonderful ward |