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Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la darniire image de chaque microfiche, selon le caa: le symbols —*• signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols y signifie "FIN". Mapo. piataa. charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely inctuded in one expoaure ara filmad beginning in the upper left hand corner, 3eft to right and top to bottom, aa many frames aa required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Laa cartea, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmte d des taux de rMuction diffirents. Lorsque le document aat trop grand pour dtre raproduit en un seul clichA, ii est filmi d partir do Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut an baa, an prenant le nombre d'images nicessaira. Lea oiagraminas suivants illustrant la mithode. 1 ... 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ;/ I THE THIRD READING-BOOK, roR THE USE OF SCHOOLS ; CONTAININa SIMPLE PIECES IN PROSE AND VERSE, ^VlTH NUMEROUS EXERCISES. ARMOUR & RAMSAY, MONTREAL. RAMSAYj AHMOUR & CO., KINGSTON^ A. H. ARMOTiH it CO., HAMILTON. -f 3 'f 4 MONTREAL : PRINTED BY ARMOUR AND RAMSAY. CONTENTS. i SECTION I Lessons on the Powers of the Letters in Combination God made all Things What is my Name 1. Mra Barhauld Counsels to Chidren The Glow-worm. - Mrs Barbauld The Star (in Verse) Jane Taylor The Plumcakes Mrs Barbauld Metals ^^' More Counsels to Children. What came of firing a Gun (in Verse)- • The Dog The Way to catch a Pony The Human Family Sabbath Morning (i n Vei se) Sabbath Evening (in Verse) Confess Sin anJ make Restitution The Sin and Danger of Deceit Abbott Thou, God, seest me (in Verse) Mrs Gilbert The Robin. Thomson's Lessons A Wasp and a Bee (in Verse). Jane Taylor A Lesson on Objects ,,.....,.... Our Relatives (Elliptical) • • Mrs Barbauld Try Again » Charlotte Elizabeth ' 'Jane Taylor .. 'Mrs Marcet ■ Mrs Barbauld Watts Id. SECTION II. Morning Hymn- • Evening Hymn The House Building The same continued The same continued * The same continued The same continued. The same concluded ^ • • • Lucy Gray (in Verse) Human Beings— the Senses • 27ie Instructor The Human Soul (in Verse) Montgomery Death of a Child Thomson^ s Lessons The Mower (in Verse) • • • • 'r 'Bowles Duty of Prayer • • Thomson's Lessons Bishop Kenn Id. "Mrs Marcet Id. Id. Id. Id. Id. ■ Wordsworth 6 10 ib 12 ib 13 14 16 18 19 20 ib 22 23 24 ib 26 27 28 ib 29 30 31 34 35 ib 38 40 42 45 47 48 50 51 52 ib rv. True Courage. ... ,, .. Ltesson on Objects .^ We are Seven (in Verse) ' ^ ' ' ' ^ ^ ^ nords^orif, 58 The five Senses (Elliptical) js^.^i 00 The Chimney-Sweeper Mrs Marcet Gl The Negro ^3 SECTION III. Lessons on the Soul a^ ;, -. rr mu « "*^u» Uallauuet 65 1 he same continued ^^^ go The same continued .^ go The same concluded j^ •« What makes a happy old age (in Verse) Southey 75 5^"^^'/; ■„ '/ ; : M,s Marcet 7G The old Man and his Ass Thomson's Lessors 78 May(in Verse) r .- i. rr . ^ r., J „ . ' , „ Leigh Hunt 79 Clouds, Rain, and Snow /d gO Christians should iove one another ''''whitely 81 The Child's hrst Grief (in Verse) Mrs HanaZ 82 The Purple Jar.... ,^,. ^3 1 he same concluded r^ r,. The Sabbath-day, a Dialogue (in Verse) Anon 86 The Coat and Buttons Mr. Marcet 88 1 he same coucluded r , ^a The Diamond (Elliptical). -Arabian 'iVights'' 93 Sagacity and Fidelity of an Arabian Horse De la Martine 95 1 he Song of the Dying Swan ^odd QQ God in all things (in Verse) Miss Martlneau 97 The Dead who die in the Lord (in Verse). ....... Nexcton 98 How to make the Time go fast Miss Edgeworth 99 AirOn Verse) 3^,,^ ^.^^^^.^ ^^^ Christ our Example (in Verse) Original 102 What makes Knowledge excellent. Todd IQli I I DIRECTIONS. n The list of words prefixed to each lesson should be carefully pronounced before the lesson itself h studied : and it will tend to prepare the pupil still belter for reading the lesson with correctness and facility, if he bo made to s;je/Z (without book) as well as to read every such introductory list. To smooth his way as much as possible, the accents have been marked ; the silent consonants printed in italics (throughout the first section) ; and the long words divided into syllables. The few elliptical lessons, which will be found in'erspersed with the others, are designed to serve as an exercise to the judgment and sagacity of the scholar. He will be desired to fill up the blank spaces ; and, to help him to the requisite words, these blanks are so regulated as to indicate the length of the words' The two " Lessons on Objects" have been introduced for a similar purpose ; and the teacher will, of course, take care that the pupil shall be able to aiiswer as well as read the questions of which these lessons consist. It is not intended, however, that the child's understanding should oe exercised only in these peculiar lessons. All the lessons will be found to afford ample materials for an intellectual as well as a moral exercise : and, though no questions have been added to assist the teacher in conducting this process, it is assumed that he will never neglect it. The explanatory and analytical mode of tuition, is of all others that which is best adapted at once to secure the rapid progress of the scholar and to sustain the interest of the preceptor : And no intelligent teacher can have any difficulty in suggesting and framing «' questions for examination" far more pertinent and applicable than those that are to be found in schooN books. A2 THE THIRD READING BOOK. 1^ SECTION I. LESSONS ON THE POWERS OF THE LETTERS IN COMBINATION. a (long). a (short). btraSr- ^''=^' ''"'' ^^''' J-"' ^-' >-P. ant a (middle). Are, bark, park, dark, barley, farmrr. a (broad). e (long). Me, we, ye, be, he, she, Eve, mete, cede, tlieee. e (short). Bed, pet, pen, peg, fed, vex, den, ten, set, led, let. met men, net, red, get, hen, jet, web, wet, veV sen ^hl' egg, bell, tell, sell, vvelV bleJ, wU Vck?'neck' "eld belT"^' ^''"?' r1"^^*' ^'^^^'P^^^' ^^^A heW, belt, elm, send, lend, mend, spend, lent/wept I ; h s ♦ i e (like « in air). Ere, there, where. i (long). Tie, die, tie, lie, ire, ice, bite, pipe, pike, five, file fine, v.ne, d.ve, dine, tile, time, side life, lime, line 1 ke mile, ninp- n nn r;,^« -:.i» I.--. 1.1 J '"'^j "tte, i (short). dim, dig, tin, sip, sit, sin, six, lip, lid, gig, him, h s hit w.t win, jvig, this, ship, chip, chrn, pit'h,^!^, fish di hi Z '. u"'^','P'"' .«»""^' skip, trip, twig, twin, swim P.k drink n?/ "''\'"'' ^''^' ^^ ^>>^^» -'"^•"k P nk, drink, lift, ring, kmg, wmg, thing, spring, middle birch. i (before r). Sir, stir, bird, dirt, thirst, sqiiir* St, birth, ro^ woe. (long). No, go, lo, so, ho, wo, foe, doe, toe, ,u. ode, bone, pole, poke, sole, mope, note, ' nose, robe -pe, rode, hope, hole, home, joke, 'yoke,' stone,' s^: (short). «ot, lot, log, mob, mop, nod, not, rob, rod, God, got, boo ti Jr'°\-''«' '^"P'. ^''<"'^P°'' ^'»P> Wot, plot d op frog, off, rock, flock, frock, lost, frost, pond,' foid, ol, o (middle). ♦ Do, to, move, prove, lose, whose, who, whom. (broad). For, nor, lord, short, horn, storm, fork, horsv . 8 o (like short u). Dove, love, jilove, some, done, none, son, won. o (like, u before r). Woik, word, v*oim, worlil. u (long). Due, hue, use, fume, dupe, duke, tune, lute, mute, mule, tube, June, flute. n (short). Up, us, bud, put, bun, fun, fur, dun, dug, dux, tub, tug, sup, sum, sun, mud, rub, run, pun, hut, hum, jug, husli, sucli, much, snup, plum, pun, dull, buck, duck, struck, dust, m.!l^t, trust, thrust, dusk, hunt, pump, jump, stiimp, turf, dung. u (middle). Put, brut'-, rude, rule, truce, bull, full, bush, truth. 7>ng) By, my, thy, shy, rye, try, pry. y (short). Very, city, lazy, silly, pretty, sorry, safety, surely. long a, e, i, o, and u, (before r). Dare, ha u, share, mere, here, fire, wire, quire, ore, bore, tore, sore, more, wore, shore, pure, sure. ee. See, weep, steep, sheep, beef, need, meed, eweet, eel, feel, green, week, cheek, fleece, sweeten. 01 oy. Oil, boilj soil, broil, spoil, join, point, joint, moist, hoist, noise, choice, boy, toy, joy. ow '^u. Bow, wow, vow, sow, how, owl, howl, growl, town, loud, shout, south, round, hound, house, ^^owel. Sour, power, flower. n h( sp I SCI I SCI ele f 9 4 \ Di ay. Wait, pail, hai!, snail, main, rain, pay, day, say, may, hiy, play, stay, Sunday, remain. Air, fair aw au, Awe, daw, saw, law, raw, shawl, dawn, yawn, daub, sauce 00. Too, food, good, wood, boot, foot, root, wool, bro;>m, moon, book, look, brook, goose. Poor, boor. ew. Ewe, few, dew, new, hew, yew, blew, flew, grew, hewn. ea. Pea, tea, sea, leave, read, cat, moat, peat, wheat, lean, speak, beast, teach. Ear, hear. oa. Loaf, road, load, read, boat, throat, foam, oak, soak. Roar, soar. ei ey. Veil, vein, rein, they, prey, grey. Their, theirs. c (soft and hard). Cell, cellar, cedar, cite, face, race, mice, nice, price, scissors, scythe. Can, core, corn, coat, cow. cut, cure, Rcale, scorch, scum, claw, cloth, crawl, cream, fact, cuckoo. g (hard and soft). Gas, got, gone, gum, gun. Gem, genius, age, page, cage, wage, judge, gin, giant, elegy. 10 GOD MADE ALL THINGS. Fa'-ther Last Breathe Heav'- Wear Friends -en Owe CArist H'lght Wou/d Know Wa/k Ought Strength Praise Taught CouZ*' Clothes God made me. It is he that keeps me in life ; and to him I owe all the good things in my lot. Ke gives me the air that I breathe, the food that I eat, the clothes that I wear, the home that I dwell in, the friends thf\t are dear to me. But more than all this, he has made himself known to me, as my God and Father in heaven. He has sent Christ to save me from my sins. He gives me his word, to tell me of all that is best for me to know ; and, by his grace, I am taught to read it. how good is God to me ! I wish I could love him, and praise him, and serve him, as T ought to do. I will pray to him that he would help me to do so ; that he would keep me from all sin J that he would give me strength to walk in tiie right way ; that he would be with me when I die ; and that, at last, he would take me to the rest and joy which shall never come to an end. WHAT IS MY NAME ? Spark Ming AlVways Wa'-ter Were Blind Ori'-ly Forth Earth Head Pierc'-ing You Your Win '>dow Hoi' low Crows Glo'-ri=uU3 Fruit Jeau'-ti-ful Corn Com'ing Can '-not Whole Bv'ight Ught Uigh' ' " ' "" ''"= ''^" ""? went to bed- nn ,i ?i, ""^ "g^'"; and ate till he cake tinder h'is no rat'sT '"' ^^ '^' ""' '""' ">'' c 1 , ... l"''"^^j anu sat up in tho molit f^ ""f -^—^ So ne ate. ,11 ., was all gone.lBu. presemh'XX tl 15 y M little boy was very sick and ill ; and somebody said, Harry has had a rich cake, and ate it all up very soon, and that has made him ill. So they sent for Dr. Camomile, and and he gave him T do not know how much bitter stuff. Poor Harry did not like it at all, but he was forced to take it, or else he would have died. Now, there was another boy, who was one of Harry's schoolfellows ; his name was Peter Careful. And Peter had written his mamma a very neat pretty letter — there was not one blot in it ail. So his mamma sent him a cake. Now Peter thought within himself, I will not make myself sick with this good cake, as silly Harry did ; I will keep it a great while. So he took the cake up stairs. And he locked it up in his box, and once a-day he crept slily up stairs, and ate a very little piece, and then iocked his box again. So he kept it several weeks, and it was not gone, for it was very large ; but behold ! the mic6 got Into his i)ox and nibbled pome. And the cake grew dry and mouldy, and at last was good for noihing at all. So he was obliged to throw it away, and nobody was sorry for him. Well ; there was another little boy at the same school, whose name was Billy. And one day his mamma sent him a cake. So, when the cake came, Billy said to his schoolfellows, I have got a cake, come let us go and eat it. So they came about him like a parcel of bees ; and Billy took a slice of cake himself, and then gave a piece to one, and a piece to another, till it was almost gone. Then 13illy put the rest l)y, and said I will eat it to-morrow. So he went to play, and the boys all played together very merrily. But presently after, an old blind fiddler came into the court ; he had a long white beLrd ; and because he was blind, he had a little dog in a string to lead him. So he came into the court, and sat down upon a stone, and said, My pretty lads, if you will, I will play you a tune. And they all left oft* their sport, and came and fitood round him. And Billy saw that while he played the tears ran down his cheeks. And Billy said, Old man, why do you cry ? And the old man said, Because I am 16 very hungry--I have nobody to give me any dinners or suppers—I have nothing in the world but this little dog • and I cannot work. If I could work I would. Then Uily went, without saying a word, and fetched the rest 01 his cake, which he had intended to have eaten another day; and he said, Here, old man ; here is some cake for you. And Billy put it into his hat. And the fiddler thanked hini, and Billy was more glad than if he had eaten ten cakes. Pray which do you love best ; Harry, or Peter, or Billy ? Mrs. Barbauld. METALS. Watch Forge Puts BulMets Heav'-y Lead Shoes Doors Ci)l'-our Yel'-iow lows HaZf jfiTnives Plough- Ex-ceed'-ing Pic'-lure Thin'-ner Rust'-y Ba' Ver'-di-gris •sin Pa' per Bel' Sil'-ver Shil'-linga Cop'-per Kef tie I'-ron Po'-ker Shov' el Melt'-ed An'-vil Hain'-iner Black '-smith Scis'-sors CI s'- tern Sov'-er-eio-nsLook'ing-glass Al'-most Can'-is-lercs l?e-ilec'-tor Quick'^i-ii-ver Ba-rom'-e-ter Mel'.als Six'-peri-ces Sauce'-pan Can'-dle-slick Wheth'-er VVith-out' Red-hot' Gold is of a deep yellow colour. It is very pretty and bright ; and it .s exceeding heavy. SovereigL^are made gold ; and hall-sovereigns. This watch is gold and he looking-g^ass frame, and the picture frames, a e.i With god Here IS some leaf-gold. What is leaf. old It IS gold beat very thin,, thinner than leaves of paper * Mver IS white and shining. The spoons are silver • ^e'r^Ssnt;:"'^''^^^'^^ '-' ^^'^^^ -^ '^^^^^^^ Copper is red. The kettle and pots are made of cop- C ,: ":^ .?:f f^7 '"^^^ ^fl^^PP^'-- S''^«« i« bright and yk ThU saucepan is made of brass . M 17 an J the lock-? upon the doors, and this candlestick. What is thid green upon the saucepan ? It is rusty ; the green is verdigris ; it would kill you if you vvei-e to eat it. Iron is very hard. It is not pretty ; but 1 do not know what WG should do witliout it, for it makes us a great many things. Go anil ask t)ie cook whether she can roast her meat without a spii. But the spit is made of iron ; and 80 are tongs, and the poker, and shovel. Go and ask Dobbin if he can plough without the ploughshare. He Bays No, he cannot. But the ploughshare is made of iron. Will iron melt in the fire ^ Put the poker in and try. Well, is it melted ] No . but it is redhot, and soft ; it will bend. Iron will melt in a very hot fire when it has been in a great while. Come let us go to the smith's shop. What Is ho doing ? He bas a forge : he blows the fire with a great pair of bellows to make the iron hot. Now he beats it with a hammer. Now he takes it out with the tongjj, and puts it upon the anvil. How hard he works ! The sparks fly about ; pretty bright j-parks. What is the blacksmith making? He is making nails, and horse- shoes, and a great many things. — Steel is made of iron, and knives and scissors are made of steel* Lead is soft and very heavy. Here is a piece ; lift it. The spout is lend, and the cistern is lead, and bullets are made of lead. Will lead melt in the fire ? Try ; put some on the shovel ; hold it over the fire. Now it is all melted. Pour it into this basin of water. How it hisses 1 What pretty things it has made ! Tin is white and soft. It is bright too. The canisters, and tlje dripping-pan, and the reflector, are all covered with tin. Quicksilver is very bright like silver; and it is very heavy. See how it runs about! you cannot catch it. You cannot pick it up. There is quicksilver in the baro- meter. Gold, Silver, Copper, Iron,, Lead, Tin, Quicksilver, are all Metals. — They are all dug out of the ground. Mrs. Barbauld.^ B2 It ! t8 MORE COUNSELS TO CHILDREN. Harm Pull Al'-ter Uu-trutli' Crea'-tures Heard Peo'-ple Ac'-tions Dum6 Re-lat'ing Ex-act'-ly Invent' For-gol'-ten Per'-sons Con- Pron sitl'-er Be-Iieve' De-ny' A fraid' PunMsh Sel'-dom An'-gry Speak '-ing Al' •vvavs Fault A-muse' An'-i-mals Rea'-soij But'-ter-flies Coiir-fort-a-b!e Cru'-el Pret'-ti-er Never tell an untruth.— When you are relating any thing tliat you have seen or heard, tell it exactly as it wab'. Do not alter, or invent, any part, to make, as you may think, a prettier story : if you have forgotten any part, say that you have forgotten it. Persons who love the truth, never tell a lie, even in jest. Consider well before you make a promise. If you say you will do a thing, and you do it not, you will tell a lie : and who then will trust or believe you ? When you have done wrong, do not deny it, even if you aie afraid you will be punished lor it. If you are sorry for what you have done, and try to do so no more, people uill very seldom be angry with you, or punish you! They will love you for speaking the truth ; they will think that they may always believe what you say, since the\ lind you will not tell a lie, even to hide a fault, and to prevent yourselves from being punished. Never amuse yourselves wit.'j giving pain to any body, not even to dumb creatures. A great many animals are killed because we want their flesh for food; and a great many are killed, because, if we were to let tlieni live, would do us harm : but I can see no reason that little boys or gn-ls should kill flies, or pull ofl' their wings or legs ; or catch butterflies, and crush them to death j or steal young birds from their soft, warm, comfortable nests ; or whip and beat horses and asses, till their sides bleed, and are VerV sore : or An nnxr nrna] qoti'^r... 19 WHAT CA.ME OF FIRING A GUN, Ah Dead Clos'-ing Hanii'-less Breast Fri^/it'-ful Falli Thouo-At Vict'-uals IJird Throuo-;^ IVtorn'-ing Health '-y Young Peo'-plo Cut '-ting Whis'-/led Mu'-sic Spring'-ing Sor'-rows Ah ! there it falls, and now 'tis dead, Tlie .shot went through its pretty head, And broke its shining wing ! Hi)w dull and dim its closing eyes ! How cold, and stiff, and still it lies, Poor harnmless little thing ! It was a lark, and in the sky h\ mornings fine it mounted high, To sing a merry song ; Cutting the tresh and healthy air, It whistled out its music there, As light it skimm'd along. How little thought its pretly breast, This morning when it left its nett, Hid in the springing corn, To find some victuals for its young, And pipe away its morning song, It never should return. Poor little bird !— If people knew, The sorrows little birds go through, I think that even boys Would never call it spcrt and fun. To* stand and fire a frightful gun For nothing but the noise. -.Jane Taylor. «o THE DOG. Charge Ca-rcss' es Fall-en Ab'-sence Hull Bun'-dle Ha/f'-peri-nyCar'-ri-eJ Taug/a A-go' Eas'.i ly Ba'rker Use'-ful Beg' gar At>lacli'-ed Mas'-ler Va'-ri-oua Ser'-vice Mas' tilT Point'-er En-a'-bieil Sports, '-Ilia a Hunl'-er Whctli'-er Pur-su'-ing Sail'-ors Shep'-lierd To-gcili' er Faith 'ful An'-i-mal Ed'-in-burgh Grey '-hound The dog has more sense than most other beasts ; he can very easily be taught ; and is most usefid, as well as most attached to man. How well he knows his master, and how kindly he runs up to him and caresses l;:m, even after long absence ! You have all seen'dogs taught to carry their master's ^;talT, or his bundle, and to do a great many other things of the same kind. Not long ago there was a dog in Edinburgh, which every day at the satne hour, carried a halfpenny in his mouth to a baker's shop, and brought back a roll in the same way for his dinner. You have often seen a beggar's dog lead his blind master through the streets. There are various kinds ofdcgs, which are of service to man. The Mastiff'and the BulU dog watch our houses and shops ; the Pointer, or setting- dog, by his nice smell, is enabled to let the sportsmen know whether his game be at hand ; the Foxhound, by his speed is of use to the hunter in pursuing the fox, and the Greyhound in pursuing tlte hare ; the Water dog has ofien been of use to sailors, by saving their lives vvhen they have fallen into the sea ; and the Sheep-dug is of more service to the shepherd, in enabling him to keep his flock together, than even a great many boys would be. It would be well, if all little boys and girls were as kind to those who have the charge of them, as this faithful an- imal is to his master. THE WAY TO CATCH A PONY. Hal'-ter Pranc'-ing Free'-dom. Re-mem'-l>er Gath'-er Whitk'-er Long'-er Nei'-tber 21 Mead'-ovv Sieve Troub' le Po'-ny Dis'-tanca Siul'-den-ly Hand'-fuls Qui'-et-ly Gal'-Iop-ed Com'-mon Feed'-ing Luck'-y Ump'-iy Bri'-dle VVitli-in' Caii'-ter-ing Ell-joy' Hovv-ev'-er Cheat'-ed Willy went to unfasten liis pony ; but when he got to the tree to which he had tied hin^, he found lliat Coco had unlastened himself, and had gone prancing away he knew not whither. After hunting al ?.■ for some time, h*^. saw him at a distance, quietly feuding on the grass. He ran up to him, but just as he put out his hand to catcli hold of the bridle, Coco, who wished to enjoy his freedom a little longer, turned suddenly round, kicked up his hind leg-s, and goUoped away. Willy thought himself lucky not to have been within reach of his heels when he kickeil up ; however, he was quite at a loss what to do. At last tie remembered that when the pony was a^ grass in the nieado\v', and the groom wished to catch him, he put a little corn into the sieve, and held it out to the pony, till he could put a halter over his neck. Now, it is true that Willy had neither sieve, corn, nor halter. "But then," he said, " the pony will eat grass as well as corn ; my hat will serve for a sieve ; and as for a halter, I shall not want one, for the pony has his bridle on, and I can catch hold of that." So he gathered a few handfuls of grass, anil put them into his hat. A man, who was digging in the common, asked him, what he was going to do with the grass? Willy told hiui, it was to catch his pony, "Oh, then," cried the man, " you need not take so much trouble ; if you hold out your hat empty, it will do just as well ; for the pony cannot see that the hat is empty till he comes close up to it , and then you may catch hold of the bridle while lie is looking into thehat." " But that would be cheating him," cried Willy ; " and I will not cheat any body ; no, not even a beast." " Well said, my good boy," replied the man. " Besides." added Willy, " If I cheated him once, he would not believe me another time." He then went up to iiispony, and held out his hat ; the pony came quietly up to him, 23 ;■, S„2.r£V;S «•%'"=:;"'• THE HUMAN FAMILY. -era Duilt Moji ^arc/i ATneel Chil' drc:i Fam'-i ly ViIMage A.mid«t' Ex-tent' Conn '-try King '.(lorn Mount'-aifis He-iieaili' Di-vid'-ed U-nil'-ed Re-joico' Jus Mice Dif'-fer-ent Cli '-mates Hil'-lock Cov'-er Pro-tect' Ne' gro Cap-liv'-i-ty In-liabM-tants A-midst' Lan'-gungo Hun '-d red Con'-ti-iient NaMions Com'-pa-ny To-geih'-er En-cloa'-ed Stranc^ Swarm Tall Wo '-man Rul'-er Bread Pleas'-ant Earth Co'-ooa Fruit Buy If: ^*'f'' m'^ "^'"f'' -' — -'''^'-^"^ '"^ke a Aimuy ; '7,f- *; '""'" ^''i'^ -'^^y ^"^^' ^^^^'" together and praje v^oci. every night and every morning, with one vo.ce ; the are very closely united, and are dearer to eaci other tha.. any strangers. If one i, sick they mourn together ; and .t any one is happy, they rejoice tcfgethe A.any houses are hu.it together ; many lamilieshve near one another they meet together or. the green, and in pleas- ant vvalks, and to buy and sell, and in the house of Justice, and the sound ot the hell calleth them to the house of God anXtr?" ^'"^ •? ^ r;ll«g^ ; nee .".ere it stand It-thet^t^ and the tall spire peeps aoove the treee. It there be many hous<\s it is a town. Many towns, and a large extent of country, make a kmgdomj.tis enclcseu by mounlains ; it is divided by rivers; It IS w^:!,.,; b^ sea., the inhabitants thereof are feliow.cour.trymen ; they speak the same language ; they make war and peace together,-a kingisthe mltn here- Many kingdoms and countries full of people, and is- in., vrao.. wurid. The people swarm on the face of it 23 like onts upon a hillock ; some are black vviih the hot sun ; Bonfie cove- Ihennselves with furs ogainf^l the sharp cold ; Home drink of the fruit of the vine ; some of the pleasan' milk of the cocoa-nut ; and others quench their thirst with the running stream. All are God's family ; He knowelh every one of them, ns a sheppard knoweth his (lock ; they pray to him in diflferent langupcres, but he under^nandelh them all. None are so mean that he will no! protect them. Negro woman, who sittpst pining in captivity, though no one pitieth thee, God seeth thee : call upon him from^ amidst thy bonds, for he will hear thee. Monarch, who rnlcst over a hundred states, boast not thyself as though there was none above ihee : God is above thee, and if thou doest ill he will punirer times, „ d,e thick: fre,"" TfJ 'T'' ^"^ ^' eggs of a dirty white colonr ^7,T \ , '^•'' "'"'' °'' .band Un'-cle Neph'-evv Di^vide' Fam'-i-ly Your papa's wife is your mother. Your mamma's husband is your ( 1 our papa's father is your ( Your papa's mother is your ( \ JeZnTr^''' --""--nd »o,hcr are yiur grand. Your papa's brother is your ( y Your papa's sister is your ( ) ^^ Your mamma's brother and sisterareyour ( ), and You are your uncle's nephew, i^ucy IS her uncle's ( * ). 31 Your papa and mamma's chikl is your brotlier or ( )• Your uncle and aunt's child is your ( ). Bring grandpapa his slick to ( ) with. Set the arni-( )by the fire for grandmamma. Ask papa to play at hide and ( ) with you. When your uncle comes you shall take a ( ) upon his horse. Divide your cake with your brother and ( ). We will send for your cousins to play with you, and then we shall have all ( ) family together. Mrs Barbauld. Awk'-ward Down'-wards Feath'-er Fa'-vour-a-ble Discour'-age An'-swev Straig-/^t De-lig-/it'-ed L'lghi^-'ly Plague En^tire'-Iy TRY AGAIN. Be«»fore' En'stan'-gled Mo'«-ment Ex- claim' As-sist'-ance Dis^en-gage' O'-pen Dig'-ni-ty . Bal-loon' Prom'-ise Lof'-ly Siack'-en Di3»ap-point'-ment Sue ceed' Pro-ceed' Be-have' Ob-jec'-tion Per'-k^uade' Per'»se«ver' ance At-tempt' Mot'-to Neph'sew " Will you give my kite a lift ?" said my little nepfiew to his sister, after trying in vain to make it fly by dragf. ging it along the ground. Lucy very kindly took it up, and threw it into the air ; but her brother neglecting to run off at the same moment, the kite fell down again. " Ah ! now, how awkward you are !" said the little fellov . " It was your fault entirely," answered his sister. " Try AGAIN, children," said I ; and Lucy once more took up the kite ; but now John was in too great a hurry —he ran of so suddenly that he twitched it out of her hand ; and the kite fell flat as before. "Weil, who is to blame now '?" asked Lucy. "Try again," said I. 32 They did • snd with more care ; but a bide wind coming suddenly, as Lucy let go (he kite, it was blown against some shrubs, and the tail got entangled in a moment, leav- ing the poor kite hanging with its head downwards. " There, there !" exclamed John, " that comes of your throwing it all to one side."— « As if I could make the wind blow straight !" said Lucy. In the mean time, I went to the kite's assistance, and having disengaged the long tail, I rolled it up, saying, " Come, children, there are too many trees herej let us find a more open space, and then try again." We presently found a nice grass-plot, at one side of which 1 took my stand ; and all things being prepared, I tossed the kite up, just as John ran off. It rose with all the dignity of a balloon, and promised a lofty flight ; but John delighted to find it pulling so hard at the string, stop- ped short to look upwards and admire.-The string slackenr" ed, the kite tottered, and, the wind not being very favour* able, down came the kite to the grass. " Oh, John, you should not have stopped," said I. " However, try again." " I wont try any more." replied he, rather sullenly. «< It is of no use, you see. The kite wont fly, and I don't want to be plagued with it any longer." "Oh fie, my little man ! would you give up the sport after all the pains we have taken both to make and to fly the kite ? A few disappointments ought not to discourage lis. Come, I have wound up your string j and now, try AGAIN ,' And he did try, and succeeded, tor the kite was carried up on the breeze as lightly as a feather ; and when the string was all out, John stood in great delight, holding fast the stick, and gazing on the kite, which now seemed as a little white speck in the Blue sky. " Look, look, aunt, how high it flies ! and pulls like a team of horses, so that I can hardly hold it. I wish I had a mile of string — I am sure it would go to the end of it." After enioviniT thpi siohf na lonn- ao h*» nlonoo^ liflp John proceeded to roll r.p the string slowly ; and when ^le kite fell, he took it up with great glee, saying that it 33 was not at all hurt, and that it had behiwed very well. " Shall we come out to-morrow, aunt, after lesaons, and TRY AGAIN?" *' I liave no objections, my dear, if the weather be fine- And now as we walk home, tell me what you l»ave learn, ed from your morning's sport." " 1 have learned to fly my kite properly." " You may thank aunt for it. brother," said Lucy : " for you would hiive given it up long age if she had not persuaded you to TRY AGAIN." " Yes my dear children, I wish to teach you the value of perse\erance, even when nothing more depends upon it then the flying of a kite. Whenever you fail in your attempts to do aiy good thing, let your motto be, try AGAIN. 5) Charlotte Elizabeth. 34 SECTION ir. A- wake' Bai'-ly Du'-ty Joy'-rul Sac'-ri-fice Pre'-ci-ous Mis-pent' Re-deem' Pres'-ent )RNING HYMN. Im-prove' Su>vey' Tal'-ent Re-new' Jiulg'-ment Dis-perse' Pre-pare' Guard Con-ver'SaMion Di-rcct Sin-cere' Sug-gest' Con '-science De-sign' NoonMide Glo'-ry Se'-cret U-nite' Awake, my soul and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run ; Shake off' dull sloth, and joyful rise To pay thy morning sacrifice. Thy precious time mispent redeem ; Each present day thy last esteem : Improve thy talent with due care j And for the judgment-day prepare. In conversation be sincere ; Keep conscience, as the noontide, clear ; And think how the great God thy ways And all thy secret thought surveys. Lord, I my vows to thee renew ; Disperse my sins as morning dew ; Guard my first springs of thought and will, And with thyself my spirit fill. Direct, control, suggest this day, All I design, or do, or say ; That ail my powers, with all their might, In thy sole glory may unite. Bishop Kenn A h i '4 I m S5 eve: ING HYMN. Ail My-self Blo8sMrig8 Ere AUmight'-y Teacli For-give' Dread Done Glo'-ii-ous Aw' ful Re-pose' EyeMids Vig'-o-rous A-vvake' Crea'lure* Be-low' Whom Host Ghost All praise lo thee, my God, this night, For all tl. 5 blessings orihe light : Keep me, keep me, King of ki.-gs, Under thine own Almighty wmg^. Forgive me Lord, for thy dear Son, The ill tliat 1 this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and Thee, 1, ere I sleep, at peace may be. Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed ; To die, that this vile body may Rise glorious at the awful day. may my soul on Thee repose. And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close j Sleep that may me more vigorous make To serve my God when I awake. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below ; Praise Him above, ye heavenly^ host, Praise Father, Son/am' Holy Ghost. Bishop Kenn. In-quire' Work '-men Build Dis'-mal Bus-y THE HOUSE BUILDING. Gar'-den-er Ad-mire' Eas'-y Laugh Brick '-lay-er Out-right' Heav-i-er Dis-ap-point'-ed Car'*ry Taught I*- I ' ■ i ll I Mui'.i.'ir Trav'-tl Un-der-ncatli' Jok' 36 Bot'-torn Dif fnuli fev'-el Straight tfi ilor-stand' Sup-pose' Re.pli'-ed F.n'.ish j^K' .rig One day Willy saw several men digging n great hole in tl.e ground j he wondered fur what it could be, and yen ontof the workmen we are g.m.g to build a house."- liuild a house down in a hole under ground .'"cried VVillv • I n;nk that .s very foolish ; it wilf be all dark and t "and7ou willLT"' another day," replied the .nan, Tl.e next day Willy found the workmen very bu.v buid.ng the wall, of the house ; they begin building the walls a the botom of the hole, but when they reached the Ive of the ground tey vyent on building them np high! Oh, oh ! ' says W.lly," i see after all you are goin. to ou.ld your house like other houses ; but why do v-ou begin so low down in the ground ?»_« because tlie liouse would not stand firm else," .aid the man. "Oh ye., ! understand," replied Willy, « it is like a tree! the roots d ep -n the ground, that the tree may stand firm, and not be blown down by the wind ; or, the walls m the hole are the roots of the house. It se^ms to me very easy to build a wall, and I think I could do it very well if you will let me try." ^ Having got leave, he began placing the bricks as he saw he workmen do. These workmen were called brick- layers, because they laid the bricks one upon another to build vvalls. He found the bricks heavier to carry, an.^ more difficult to place one upon another, straight and even, then he had supposed. However, after a good deal of toil and trouble, he finished a bit of wall, of which he was very proud, and called to the bricklayer to look at WMi ^''^l^'^yer walked up to it and smiled ; and V\illy was pleased, for he ihoupht ihfi n.nn n.ljr.-.jJj i.u work ; ail at once he lifted up his' foot, give a kick t^ poor Willy s wall, and down it went ! The bricks rolled some kn — .. 37 ..,„e way, soniC anoU.er ; one of ll.om Inl h» foot, onJ nrihin. • but ho was too proud to cry.aiid too nngry. He M!ra'wbut..Mf;,tothew.n.h „uiUling .n,l t,-iea to k;e. ,at own e^> ';J:^»>- then lauglicil oiitiight. JNoi to tu.j wall, master," sa'ul lie. , ,, . , „,i,., « .liil lie Willy was mucli disoiipomted." A.ul why, saix lie, « cannot 1 liuUd a wall that vyill stand 1'™' ', '^>,™ \(,„ _« Because vou have not loarnt, ")[ ';>''• '^''^^^X^^ man • " when I was a bov I was taught t'- build walls , ^d now I am I n,an, T have built wall., for -»n--; so it would be a wonder 11 I could ""' '^'"'ll, f^'^^^,^^"^ He then showed Willy how a was done. 1 r» he ad a brick upon the ground, then he placed '"'f ^ «"^'' 'j •indhetiut 'jme moitar between the two whcU made hem 2k together. Then he placed -other r.k a,, some more mortar, and so on, till ho had '» J * "^"'^ '°^ .,f bricks. After that, he spread -»"'f " '"»' "fj. "i''' row of bricks, just as you would spread butle on a bl ceof bread. He ^sed a very odd..haped knile, « h.eh is called a trowel Then he placed another row of bricks in the tame mannneras he 'had done the first > - • le niortar made the two rows slick together; and alter that he went on spreading the mortar and laying the bncks, td I 'e p.ece of wall was finished. " Now," said the >"='"' '''«J^« is not very strong yet, for though you could not kick it down, peHiaps I could ; but when the mortaiMsdry no one could kick it down, neither "»" ""^ '^^!;^'- ^y;,,^. „ j " And what is this mortar made of ? said VV illj, 1 see a man siirring it about yonder.';-" is maJe of lime," said the man, " mixed up with water, and a l.tUe sand. But you don't ask me what the bricks »'« "'»J.^ "f' mast-r ?"-" ! I know that already," replied Willy ; Tc he was veiT glad to be able to tet| ihe bricklayer that he knew some.ldng, "I have been with papa ,n the brick- field, and seen the clay dug out of the ground, and iixed „p ;nd stirred about while it is sofi, and he, pu n o liluldsofihe shape of a brick."-" And is that alii said the mInV " No ; then they are laid in rows to dry in the 38 li ! ■ mm and air, aiul make lliem hard."—'' And is that all ?"' ~" 1 hclieve so," said Willy. "No, no," said the brick- layer ; « when they are dry ih( y are put all in a heap in a place -ailed a hiln, and a lire is made underneath to burn them." " JJa, ha, ha !" said Willy, « you are joking now, I know ; for if they were all burnt to pieces, how could you build a house with them ?"— f« I did not say burnt to pieces j but burni to harden them, or more like baked."--" Oh, now I understand you, like the crust of a j)ie, u hich is soft paste vviicn it is put ij. to the oven, and hard when it comes out, and very nice," cried Willy ; for he thouglit there would perhaps be a pie for dinner when he returned home. Just then he heard the dinner-bell go ding dung, ding dong, ding dong. So he left the brick- layers and ran home as fast as he could. Mrs IMarcet. *■ I s :! it THE I-IOUSE BUILDING CCNTI^'UED. Friend Car '-pen -tor I(n-pa' tient Floor Knock Fas'-tcn-ed Wrurg Wood' en An'-swer Con^ceive' Epv'.i-ly Bus'-i-ncss Lighl'cr Fin'-ger Tiiumb Up'-riglit A muse' Ob-serve' NiceMy Pret'-ii-ly The next day all the family went to spend some time at the h(;Uhe of a friend. Willy was very much nieased there ; but he ofien thought, " I wonder how the house goes on building ;" and the day after his return he v^as impatient to go and see it. When he got to the house he heard a great noi'ie, knock, knock, knock, saw, saw, sow, linmmer, hamuier, hanime., and he wondered what they uere doing. He ran vp to find his old friend ihe Biick- layer, but he saw none but new faces ; and on askirg for him he was answered, " Oh ! the bricklayers have finish, ed building the walls ; they have no more to !o here, and are allg one."— " Aiid what are you doing ?" said Wdlv. " We are the carpe?ii ers niQ\uiig\he floors, and the doora ■and tlie window-framog and nil the word-work." 39 Willy looked, aaJ saw sonic of them laying uown large planks of wood to make the floors, and fastening theai with great nails ; others were shaving the wood smooth with a wooden tool called a plane, and every time the pbne went over the wood, a thin piece of wood was shav« ed off, and curled up. Willy could not conceive how the plane took off this shaving. Then the carper icr lifted it up, and showed him the blade of a small t'nrp knife which was fastened within it, and which cut or scraped off this shaving. Wil'y asked the man to let him try the plane. He found it was too heavy for him to move casih^ and wlien he did, he could not push it straight, and the knife stuck in the i)lank 3 and though he tried over and over again, he could not g.'t off a shaving.^ " And y.^t it seemed so easy when you did it," said Willy to the car- penter. «» Why, master," said the man, •' I am a little dtroiiger tlian you, and tlien 1 linve learnt the business a long whiles" — " Well hut surdy I could hammer some nails into the plank tor the floor." aaid Willy. " you liad bettor try at yonder bench," said tiie carpenter " where the men are about some lighter work." So he gave Willy Uvo small pieces of wood, and a little hammer, and some iiailf. Willy was highly pleased 1 1 have the use of all the^'e things. He put the two pieces of wood together, and then held the nail between the firg^and thumb of his left hand, and tried to strike it with the hammer into the wood, but the first blow he drove the nail all on one side. " How is this ?" said Willy, " I struck the nail on the head." " But you did not hold the nail upright," said the carpen- ter ; " try again." This time Willy took great pains to keep it upright ; so he held his finger and thumb close to the head of the nail, and when he struck it with the liam- mer, he gave his finger and thumb a good blow, as well as the nail. He smarted with pain ; and letting go the nail, wrung his hand. Some of the men brgan to laugh, but Willy now felt ready to cry. " Never mind, my lad," said the carpenter, '' many a blow and cut have I had on my fingers before 1 learnt my trade, the pain \^ ill sooOj be over." li ! ft II Is i. ( li 40 Willy grvv a jug of water trtanding on the bench, so lie thrust his hand into it, having often been cured of the pain of a blow by cold water. While he held his hand in the jng, he amused himself seeing the carpenters vvork« He longed much to try lo use a saw. He observed the teeth of the saw cut so nicely into the wood and saw it through, and the sawdust fall down underneath so prettily ; but he said. " Tf I was so awkward before, I shall be still worse now that I have hurt my hand." So he waited till the pain was quite gone, and then he thanked the carpen- re, and went home. Mrs Marcet. THE HOUSE BUILDING CONTINUED. Ledge Tight Knives Sur-prise' Jje-come T3e-lieve' A -sleep Has'-ten In-stead' Em-plov'-ed Wood'- oil Small'-er Scis'-ors Gla'-zi-er Pock'-et Hatch '-et Chib'-c1 Rul'-er Strange Han'-dlo Di'-a-mond Brooch Scratch Ex-ceed'-ing-Iy In'-stru-ment Re-'venge' Meas'-urc Ex-acL' ly- Clev'-er-nes-^ Fas'-ten Put^ly ToDgh'er Sep'-a-rate The next time Willy went to the new house, he was (juite surprised to hear no noise. " What has become of the carpenters 1" thought he, " I believe they are all • asleep, or perhaps they are eating their dinner : however, I shall soon see ;" and he hastened to skip up stairs. There, instead of liie carpenters, Willy aw several men busily employed in trying to fit large panes of glass into the wooden frames which the carpenters, had made. Tiiey tried fir^t one pane of glass, then another ; but they were all too large. l, and told him that it was exceedingly hard, and was the only thing which will cut glass. " It is like the diamond in mamma's brooch," said Willy, " only not so large nor so bright. Pray let me try to cut some glass with it.'' He was going to try upon a large pane, but the glazier siiid, " I do not think you will be able to cut the glass, but you will scratch it, and 1 cannut let you spoil a large pane, here, take this small slip I have jui^t cut oil' the large pane, and try if you can cut tliat." VVilly placed the rule as he had seen the glazier do, and then drew a line on the glass with the diamond. He leaned with all his might, on the instrument, yet he could only scratch the glass> not cut. He then thought that by bending it, as tie had seen the glazier do he could break it in two j but taking D2 it s 42 dp the glass and trying to do so, he scratched his hands sadly. Though his hands bled and smarted a good deal, Willy did not cry, for he knew that would do no good. He tried to laugh, and said, " I think the glass has a mind to be revenged on me, and scratches me in return for my scratching it." Wil'.y then looked on and saw the glazier first take mea- sure of liie window-frame, and afterwards of the pane. He tlien cut the pane to fit the window- frame. " Well, now it fits exactly !" cried Willy, admiring the glaz'er's cleverness lo cut it so well ; " but how will you fasten it in the frame ?" " There is a ledge in the frame," said the gluzier, " which holds the pane ; but that would not hold it tight enough to prevent the wind from blowing it out, if I did not fasten it in with some putty." He then showed Willy some stuff that was a little thicker and tougher than butter, which was called putty. " When I put the pane into the window-frame, you see 1 stick a little of this putty all round the edge?, and it joins the glass and the frame together ; and when the putty dries and hardens, you may more easily break the glass than se* parateit from the putty." " I think," said VVilly, " your putty is something like the mortar the bricklayers use ; it is soft when the} spread it between the bricks, and when it is dry, it is almost as hard as the bricks themselves." Mrs Marcet. ^^^^^^^^^K ^^^^^B. ^^^^^^^H f ■ <' ^m 1 1 ^^H i ^^B 1 ^^^^H ' ! |l THE HOUSE BUILDLNG CONTINUED. Door Wear Dis-a-gree'-a-ble Three Wain '-scot Paint^>er Daub Pour T» I. uruBu Botch '-es Cov'-er Com'-mon Dam -oge House'-moid Foot'-man Pan '-el A-miss' Con'»sid-er Tur'-pentine Bot' tie Great'-coat Coal'-scut-tle Pow'-der Poi'-son Swal'-low Spoon '-ful Liq'-uid Vin' •e-gar Frat'-tiing Shrink '-ing 43 The next lims Willy went to the housa he found the panes of glass put in every window. " So the glaziers will be all gone, I suppose," thought he ; " but I dare say I shall find so.ne other workmen : I wonder what they will l>,^ about." As he went into the house he smelt a very disagreeable smell; and going into one of the rooms, he found some men busy painting the doors and wamscot. Willy was so much amused seeing the painter \vork with his great brush, that he soon forgot the smell, and he asked wheilier he would lend him a brush and let him paint. Tlien the painter gave him a smaller brush and a pot of paintj and told him to go to work on another door in the -- ; '' fji," said he, « you would spoil the door I am I -/ma " " And shall I not spoil the other door? said 'Viib- "No," replied the man, " you may daub thatai._ as much as yon please ; because it has only the first coat on, and 'every door has three coats ; so if von do any harm it will all be covered over-"—" Doors wear coats 1" cried Willy, laughing; «« Oh now I am sure you are in fun ; and so if I paint it badly you will cover it with a coat 1 Pray," sa'.d he, carrying on the joke, " do dooi-3 wear greatcoats or common coats 1 — "VVhy, they are coats of paint, my little man, and nothing else,"" said the painter. " When 1 cover the door all over -vith paint, that is called a coaf."— "Oh ! because it covers it over as a coat covers us," said Willy ; " but why do vou put on three coat.^, lor tlie door does not want to be kept warm 1" " No," said the man, " but as the coats of the door ar^ very thin, they easily wear out or get damaged. If the housemaid happens to strike it with her broom when she is sweeping the room, or the footman when he brings in the coal-scuttle or the tray, the coat will be worn ; but when the door has a second and a third coat on, it will not be so easy to make a hole through all three. And now set to work, my little mas- ter, and mind you do not drop any of the paint on your clothes ; for I can tell you, you would not get it out either by brushing or washing ; so have a care." ' Willy was quite delighted to have a brush and a paint- pot trusted to him. He dipped the brush into the pot. i I ' » ^ f ■ ■ ', 44 ihen he wiped it against the side to shake out a litlle of tlie paint, as he had seen the painter do, and hegan painting his door. He did it all in ^^liipes and blotciies, it is true ; "but then," said he, "there are to be two more coats over it, and they will hide all my faults." When he had covered one panel of the door, he called the pr^n' '- to look at it. " Not amiss," said the man, "you ha\' • ainted the door pretty well, and your clothes too."— " My clothes 1" cried Willy, " why, 1 look great care nut to let a bingle drop of paint fall on them." — " But they are covered almost all over with drops," said the pain- ter J " you did not consider that when you wiped the brush against the side of the pot, if it was not done with care and gently, the drops, instead of (\\lling into the pot, would splash over your clothes," "Oh, dear! vvhat shall I do ? but can it never be got out?" — " Oh, yes, it may," said the man, " when you get home you must ask them to put some turpentine on your coat, and that will take oul the slain ; but then you must hang the coat in the air a long time to take out the smell, for turpen- tine smells very disngreeably." Then he showed him a bottle full of turpentine, and Willy said, " It smells just like the paint."—" Well it may," said the man, " for it is the turpentine mixed up with tiie paint that makes it smell 5 look, here is some white paint in pow-^ der." Willy put his nose to it, and found it had no smell. <' It looks like t)ie fine flour that cakes are made with," said he ; « may I taste it ?'— " Oh no," said the man, aorinking "it is rank poison." — "Poison!" said Willy, back 5 " and would it kill me ?"— "If you took ordy u little on the tip of your finger to taste, it might perhaj)s only make you sick ; but if you s»vallowed a tea-spoonful it would be sure to kill you. We don't always mix up the paint with turpentine," he added, " because it costs too much. In common, we mix it up with oil." — " And is tlie paint a poison when mixed up with oil 1" said Willy. " Yes," replied the painter, " and so it is if mix- ed up with water ; becase the poison lies in the paint, not in the liquid with which it is mixed up ."— " What 45 U a iLrddV' aslced Willy. " Any tiling that will pour," aaswared the painter. « Oh, then, w.jtor an,l ;Ml,andturp3ntinG, areli.Tiia. to b3 sure," saul WHy , « but there are other liquias be^ules, for w.ne, and milk, and vinegar, will poar to i ; so they are all liquids. Ay» sure," said .ho painter ; " but, my lad, pray ce^se your prattling, a ,d let me mind my work, or I shall not finish Iny door much better than you have ^^^S'-/;"-;^^^,,. THE HOUSE BUILDING CONTINUED. Talk A-gainst' A-ston'-ish-ed Ap-proach' Riiig'-ing Hui'-ri-ed Stall- '-case Lad'-der Num'-ber Ceil'-ing B^U'-hang-er As-cend'-ed Un-der-neath' Coi'-ner Pass'-ago In '-side Loud'-er Tongue Thoiight'-ful-ly Mo'ment Laugh '-in g Re'-al-ly Dis'-tant An'-swer A FEW days afterwards, when Willy approached the liouse he was quite astonished to hear a great noise of ringing of bells, such as he had never in his life heard be- fere Oae bell went ting-a-ring a-ring ; another, tang-a- ran^-rang; a third, tong^a-rong a-rong ; and a great one went dirtir-dong ding-dong, " Oh ! that great bell is the dinner-betl : but I never heard a bell ring to call the workmen to dinner before ; besides they do not dine at two o'clock, and it is but just two o'clock : then all the bells are ringing together ; what -jan be the matter. bo he hurried into the house, and was going to skip up stairs, when he was stopped at the foot of the staircase by the sisht of *an mounted on a ladder, who was fixing a number of bells which hung near the ceiling ; and it was these bells that made all the noise Willy had '^«^But who rings these bells ?" cried Willy to the belU hanger. '• for you arc only hanging them up." "There- 'all the rooms is anothwi- man v ,'hom I have sent round It i! i- ' •I si i 111 ■ >, r 46 ta nng tlieai atij see if the wii'-os are all ri;ihtly fixeJ, and if the bells ring easily ; go up, and you will see." Then Willy ascended the staircase, and found the other nrian in one of the rooms, and he saw him pul- ling the handle of one of tlu bells, and he heard the l>cll go ting a-ring a-ring ; and the man showed Willy how the bell-handle was fastened to a wire wiiich went through a hole in tlie floor, and then he took him down Ktairs into the room underneath that floor, and showed him the wire coming out through a hole at one cor- ner of the wall by the ceilir.g ; and it went along the ceiling to another corner of iho room, and then he saw it no more. *' Whore is it gone lo now f said Willy. " Come and see," replied thu bell-hanger. So he open- ed the door of the room which led into the passage, where the mun on the ladder was lianging up tho bells. " Look, the wire comes out at t!i;it hole, mas- ter, and is fastened U. that bell. No^v, I will run back up stairs and pull the belMiandle, and that will pull the wire, and make the bell ring." And he ditl so. And WiL'y saw the bell move, and heard it go ting- a-ring a-rii g ; and he wos so pl-j'ased liiat he jumped for joy. " 1 never thought before," said he, " how tha Ijell was made to ring; but now I know, that; when I pull the handle, the handle pulls the wir-*, and the wire pulls the bell, and the bell shakes and moves the little sort of hammer v, hich is fattened in!u. Cre-a^tion Par^a dise Jer>ho'-' Breath Ji THE HUMAN SOUL. Be-neath' Re-claim' Be-lov'-ed Deign What is the thing of greatest price, The whole creition round — That, which was lost in Paradise,— That, which in Christ is found ? Spir'»«it Ho'-ly Di-vine' Ran'^som I i: ■ :| 1 ] 52 The Soul of man, — Jehovah's breath ! That keeps two worlds at strife j Hell moves beneath to work its death, Heaven sloops to give it life. God, to reclaim it, did not spare His vvcU-beloved Son ; Jesus, to save it, deign'd to bear The sins of all in one. The Holy Sj)irit scalM the plan, And pledged the. blood divine, To ransom every soul of man j— That price was paid for mine. Montgomery. DEATH OF A CHILD. Young Tvvelvr Pray'-er IVIak'-cr Peace Ev'-il 1 HE young die as »vell as the old-, and they do not know hovv soon death may come. It is wise for them to think o. thism time, and to live now as they will wish that they had done when they come to die. I knew a little ^irl only tvvelve years of age, ahu died of the small-pk'! She had been a good child. She had put her Iruit in Christ, that he would save her soul. She read the woif! 01 bod, and did what it bade her do. It was her praver day and night, (hat she might be kept from sinning against her Maker, and made to walk in the right path. At all times, and in all things, she .^trove to live on earth, ns one should ao that hopes to dwell in heaven, /inj when she vvas gomg to die, she had no fear ; her mind was at peace • Fhe said that she felt quite happy ; and her last words were these, " 1 am in great pain, but God is with me, and 1 fear no evil ; my pain will soon be o\er, and 1 shall ent^er into the joy of my Lord." ' wish that all boys and girls were as good as this (diiid was Thomson's LrssoiNS. 53 THE MOWER. Movv'-er Stera Tow '-ens Flow'-ers Whis'-tling Dai'-sies Re-sist'-less Raise Stead '-i-ly Hav'-oc King'-doms Scal'-(er-ed H\RKllie mower's whistling blade, How sleatlily lie mows ; • The grass is hcaivd, the daisies fade, All scattei'M as he goes. So time, as with a stern delight 'Mid human havoc towers, And sweeps resistless in her might, Kingdoms as grass and (lowers. The flowerfe oflife may bloom and fade, But He in whom i trutit, Though cold, and in my grave-clothes laid. Can raise me from the du.st. Rev. W. L. Bowles, DUTY OF PRAYER. lyer, Sleep '-y Watch ~ed On My Di'-rect' As-sist' Du'-ties Need'.ful Sup-port' Wei 'fare Pro-tect' Ad dress' Good' Mer'-cy J.'or-give ness Of-fcnd' Tempt'-ed Dis-please' Con -duct Guard Char;^o Sound '-ness Re-deem A-men Stud'-y Use '-less Neigh'-bour Breth'-ren Man-kind' We should pray to God in the morning when we rise, and at night before we turn sleepy and go to bed. In the morning, we t^hould lift up our heart, and say to him E2 ! I 54 something like \hk : " Lord, I thank thee tiiat thou hast watched over mc through the night ; and that thou hast brought me to see the light of a new day. Be with me all the day long, to keep me from evil, and from sinning against thee ray father in heaven ; to direct and assist me in my duties j and to give me every thing needfiil for my support and welfare. Protect and guide me during all that remains of my life ; and then take me to thyself, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen." At night we should ad- dress to God such words ns tliese : « Lord, I thank thee for thy goodness to me during the past day. In thy great mercy, forgive what I have this day t^aid or done to'ohcnd thee my Maker ; and keep me from being tempted to dis- please thee again, in any part of my conduct. Take charge of me this night ; guard me from all harm ; and if it be thy holy will, raise me up in the morning, to praise and to serve thee, ^vilh health of body and soundness of mind. All that I ask of thee is in the name of Christ, who died to redeem me. Amen." When you pray, study always to have your heart going along with the words that you utter ; for without the heart your words are vain and useless. It is also proper that you pray not only for your selves but also for others. You should pray that God would bless your parents, yoi • broth- ers and sisters, all your friends, 'all your neighbours, all your brethern of mankind. And this you will not fail to do, if you truly love others as God commands you, and wish to see them holy and happy. Thomson's Lessons. TRUE COURAGE. PI ay- mates Par't'-y Birth'-dav Beau -ti-ful Vis' it Cour'- Whis'. T per 7. U m-med'=fate=ly f) -roar 'im'-id Quick'-ly De-lay'-ed Group Dis-o-bey Ain'-ply 55 Joy '-oils Com-mence' Par '-lour Ex-cit'-iiig i?e-qiiest'-eJ Wait'-er Load'-^ed E-nouglr' Temp-ta'-tiori Re sist'-ed He-paid' Pleas'-uro Vast'-ly Hap'-pi-ness Per-mit'-ted No'-ble De-ter-mi-na'-tion DuMy Like '-wise Re- ward' Itri-plor'-ing Lon'^-ger La'-dy Dis-plea.s-sed' En-tioat'-v Hes'-i-tat-ed Yield'-ed Vir'-lue Wav'-er-ed Has'-ti-ly Two little boys went to pass the afternoon and evening at the house of one of their playmates who had a party to keep Ills birthday. Their parents told theni to come liome at eight o'clock in the evening. It was a beautiful afternoon, and a large party of boys met at the house of their friend. The iirst part of their visit was spent out of doors j and never did boys have a more happy time. They climbed the trees, — they swung on ropes— and as they jumped about and tried all kinds of sports, they made the place ring with joyous shouts. When it became too dark for out-door play, they went into the house, and commenced new sports in the brightly lighted parlour. As they were in the midst of the exciting game of" blind man's buff," some one entered the room, and requested them all to take their seats, for apples and nuts were to be brought in. But just as the door was opened by the ser.« vant, bringing in the waiter, loaded with apples and nuts, the clock struck eight. The boys who had been told to leave at that hour, felt troubled enough. The tempta- tion to stay was almost too strong to be resisted. The older ')rotlier, however, had the courage to whisper to one at his side, that he must go. Immediately there was an uproar all over the room, each one exclaiming against it. <^ Why," said one, " my mother told me I might stay till nine." " My mother," ^aid another, '-^ did not say any thing about my coming home, she will let me stay as lony as I like." - 5G 1 \ ** I would not be tied to my mother's apronstring," said a rude boy in a distant pait of the room. A timid boy, wlio lived in tlie next house to the one in which these two liitle boys lived, came up and said, with an imploring look ; " I am going home at halt-past eight. Now do stay a little while longer, and then we will go home together. I do not wish to go home alone in the dark." And even the lady of the house came to them and said, " I do not tiiink your mother will be displeased if you slay a few moments longer and eat an apple and a few nuts." Now, what could these poor boys do ? How could they resist so much entreaty ? For a moment they hesi» tated, and almost yielded to the temptation. But virtue wavered only for a moment. They immediately muster- ed all their courage, and said, " We must go." Hastily bidding them all good night, they got their hats as quickly as they could, for fear, if they delayed, they should yield to the temptation ; and they left the house. They stoi)ped not a moment to look back upon the brightly shining win* dowti and happy group of boys within, but taking hold of each other's hand, they ran as fast as they could on their way home. When they arrived at home their father and mother met them with a smile. And when their father and mother learnt under what temptations they had been to disobey, they looked upon their children with a delight which amply repaid them for all their trial. And when these boys went to bed that night, they felt that they had done their duty, an .' that they had given their parents pleasure j and these thoughts gave them vastly mure hap- piness than they could have enjoyed if they had re- mained with their playmates beyond tlie hour which their parents had permitted. Now, do you not admire this no- ble proof of the courage of these little boys, and of their determination to do their duty ? Go you then and do like- wise, and you shall have their reward. Abbott's " Child at Home. 5> 67 LESSON ON OBJECTS. Su'-gar Feath'-ers Ap'-ples Trans-pa'-rent Tea Co!'-our Cher'-ries Glis'-ten Writ'-ing Clouds MenMion Ought What happens to sugar if you leave it in water ? Do you know any other things that are sweet as well as sugar ? If you put sugar into tea, what happens to the sugar? If you put sugar into tea, Joes any thing happen to the tea 1 What is a pen made of ? What is it used for ? What did it once belong to ? Did the bird use it for writing with ? Why are beds often made of feathers ? Do you know what birds' beds are called ? Can you teil me something that you ought to do ? Can you tell me something that you ought not to do f Did you ever feel it hot in the moonshine ? Did you ever see the sun and the moon shining at ihe same time. Do you always see the sun in exactly the same part of the sky ? What shape is the sun ? Is the moon always of the same shape ? Can you always see the moon of a night ? Can you always see the sun of a day ? Is the sky always blue 1 What is the colour of the clouds in bad weather ? What is rain made of? Which can you lift most easily in your hand, wa^ ter or snow ? and why ? What will snow turn to if it is warmeil 1 What will a piece of ice become if it is placed near the fire ? In what kind of weather does water turn to ice, and rain turn to snow I [;,,: ■ 5S Is it in warm or in cold weather that tlowers grow, and apples and cherries ? Tell me the names of things that can burn ? Mention some things that have a green colour ? Mention some things that are transparent or can be seen through ] Do you know any things that glisten or shine '? WE ARE SI Cot'-tage He-ply' Eight Be-neath' Clus'-ter«ed A-live' An'-swer-ed Stock '-inga Church-'yard Knit Sun '-set Por'-rin-ger Moan-'ing Re-liev'-ed Mai(Jf-en I MET a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That cluster'd round her head. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be ?" <* How many < seven in all," she said, And wondering look'd at me. '• And where are they, I pray you tell ?" She answer'd, " Seven are we ; And two of VIS at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea ; " Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother ; And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them with my mother." " You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet you are seven ; I pray you tell. Sweet maid, how this may be" 59 Then did thelitte maid reply, " Seven boys and girls are we ; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." " You run about \y little maid, Your limbs they are alive ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." " Their graves are green they may be ween," The little moid replied, " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. " My stockings there I often knit. My 'kerchief there I hem ; And tliere upon the ground 1 sit, — I sit and sing to them. j " And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer And eat my supper there. " The first that died was little Jane, In bed she moaning lay. Till God relieved her of lier pain, And then she went away. " So in the churchyard she was laid, And, all the summer dry, Together round her grave we play'd My brother John and I. " And when the ground was white with snow. And I could run and slide. My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." " How many are you, then," said I, " If they lire two in lieavcn?" The little maiden did reply, '*0 master ! we are seven." CO I U 1 1 ir " But they ore dead, those two are dead, Their spirits are in lieaven." 'Twas throwing words away ; for still The litlle maid would have her will, And said, « Nay, vve are seven." Wordsworth. THE FIVE SENSES. {Ellipikal) U|)'-right En-clos'-ed Mois'-ten^ed High'-er Flu-id Eye '-brows FJa'-voiir Mo^'iion Per cciv'-ed Move'-a-ble Qiial'-i-ties Ob'-jects Erect' Se-cures' Shoul'-ders Shel'-ter Parnate Spit-tle Javv'~bones De-scends' Ranj^'-ed Stom'^ach Man holds himself upright on his feet. His head is erect on his shoulders. He has arms and legs. He takes hold of thing;? with his . The sole of hjs rests on the ground. The head turns to the right and to tiie . The top and back of the head is called the skull. Upon It IS the hair. Within the is the brain, which Js enclosed there as in a box of bone. This box se- cures against blows. On the face are seen the eves, nose, mouth, chin, and on each side the the eyes are shut by means of the , which shelter them from the air and too much light. The eve is moistened with a fluid called . Above the eyes are the eyebrows ; higher still is the brow. Man sees with his what is near inm J he sees also what is not too far off. The nose IS between the eyes and tlie ; its two holes are called the ; with the nose are perceived smells. The mouth has lips which are both moveable. Under the mouth is the . Within the mouth are the palate, the tongue, and the The teeth are fixed in the jawbones, ai m rows which are applied to one anoti the teeth vve grind md are ranged ler. With our the tongue brings the 6L fcod under the teeth, and at tlie same time the spit- tel moistens it j it decends afterwards into the throaty and thence into the stomach. While food is in the mouth, the tongue and the palate the flavour of it. Tlie mouli) serves also for spcaliing; the breath comes from the lungs ; the mouth, the lips, the tongue, the teeth, and the palUe, form speech. Man perceives smell hy his 5 tastes by his with iiis ears he souihls : with his eyes he the colour, form, and motion of bodies ; with his skin he ihem. All these means of perceiving the qualities of objects are called t!ie senses. Tims man has senses ; sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. From the Italian o/Bardi. THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER. A-wak'-en-ed Reach '-ed Re'^con^ciKcJE-nough' Rat' tling Ap-i)ear'-ance Con-tiiv'-ed Break'-fast Shov'-el Im-pa'-iient Climb Pa'-tience Tou("h I\Iin'-ute Swal'-lovv-cd 0>blig'-ed Read'-y One morning Willy was awakened by a noise in the chimney, and looking up he saw that the fireplace was covered over with a cloth. '' What is that, fur, Ann ?" said he Ann told him that one oftlie sweeps was gone up the chimney to sweep it ; that the noise was made by his brushing away the soot from the sides of the chimney, and tliat the cloth was put up against the fireplace to ))revent the soot from falling down into the room. Just The re sail. I then they heard a rattling noise Ann, " he hasgotto ihe top of the chimney, and lie is beating his shovel and brush together to ithow that he is at the t on '• Oh, how funny it goes, rattle, rattle, rattle ! How I bhoulii like to seeldtu, Ann I" said Willy, runnijig to peep behind the cloth. ilf i !! 4 n i II 1 n \ w )^ 1 • - i ■ f i 1 . ■ i 62 "You cannot see him up the cliimney,"said Ann, 'because It ia quite dark; b.U have a little patience, —lie will be down in a minute." Willy thought the minute lasted a long time ; but at ejigththe boy reached the boltom of the chimney, and liitmg up the cloth made his appearance. He had a brush II. one hand and a .hovel >in the other, and was all black romhead to foot, except his eyes and his teeth, which ooked uncommonly large and while. Impatient ?s Willy had been to see him, he could not help drav.ing back when he appeared. " Why, you are not a raid of me. master, ?" said the sweep ; « 1 ^hall not hurt you, and I ^hall not dirty vou If you do not t. .,ch me." By degrees Willv bccan.e're, conci ed to the black boy, and he a.^ked him how he con- tnved to get up to the top of the chimney. " Do you think I could get up ?" asked Willy. ♦ "^'l'"^^'^/*'*^''^^}'' "'because you have not been used o If. v\ hen I first began to sweep chimney.-', it wa3 very hard vvork, because I did not know how to climb : I was but a htttle boy then, and I was sadly afraid of going up the dark chimney ; but I was (obliged to go, or my maMcr vvould have beaten me; and now I thing nothing of it" tic then asked whether there were any more chimneys to sweep, and Ann said « No ; I believe not." *'You are sorry for that I daic say," cried Willv: Mor Ann says that you are paid a shilling for every chimney you svAccp." ^ « I am never the belter for the money I take," replied the boy ; for I am obliged to give it all to my mas- ter." " AnJ f^oes he not give you any thing ?" said Willy. Aothing but my meat and drink, and little enoueh of that either.' ^ Just then Willy's breakfast was brought ; and while he was eating U, he thought," I wonder whether the Fvyeep has ha., his breakfast this morning ;" so he went to nsk mm, and finding he had not, he ran and fetched his basm of bread and milk and olTered it to the boy. The sweep, who had already swept several chimneys that mor- *-iL, 03 lid Ann, patience, ! ; but at iney, and id a brush all black b, which ?.s Willy ing back said the iJirty you came re^ he con- Do you een used va3 very ; I was going up ' maf-lcr g of it." iineys to Willy ; r every ' replied nv mas- Willy, ough of d while ber the went to led his . The at mor. nin,, and was very hu,;,ry,look l-V.-^.^;^ '^^^^^^^1; both his hands, and swallowed a good deal of it. Ue H cP returned it to Willy, who would gladly liave eaton the r. stbut he saw tvvo such black ma,ks on the bas.n where he sweep's hands had held it, and such a large one o. the rim vvhcre he had been driidnng, that he did not like ta e any u.ore of it ; so he told the boy he m.ght dnnk the rest if he liked it, ^vhich the sw-eep vvas ve,y g^^^^^^^^ do. Just then a servant came in and told the boj that the drawing-room chimney was to be swept aisv,. *< Oh ! I am sorry for that," said Willy. ui do n(>t mind it now," replied the boy; " ^ « '^ the more ready to set to work afier so good a b.eaU. fast." ^^^^^ '''''^■'^'' THE NEGRO Walk*-ing Coach Clothes Laugh '-ed Coun'-try Peo'-ple Ne'-groes School Al-low'-ed Talk'-ed Freez'-es Snow'-balls " On, mamma !" said Willy to h.s "^^/^^"f .f^^^/ ,^ he ^vas walking with her on the street, « look at that great chimney-sweeper standing up behind the ^oach the e dressed in such fine cloth.es, and not at a I du'ty, except his hands and his face ; I wonder how he can get up a chimney, he is so big." His mamma laughed, and .aid, «« He i.s not a chimnev sweeper, my dear. " Oh, but ho must be, mamma, for h.s face is blacker than the little boy's who swept our chimney, and his hands too." ^ ,, .. „. "That is true; but he is not a sweep for all that. The colour of his skin is black, just as the colour of your t^kin is white." , . ' ... ' » But the colour of every body's skin is white, mam- "*'''of every one who lives in this country ; but there are some countries, a great way off, where tbe colour of every body's skin is black, like tliat man'.. The people who live in these cou ntries ere called negrces 64 It '*An(l iflhat negro was to diink oul of n.v hn^ln nf " Not in the least ; ins hnn.Is and /arc arc as ^lean na yours, .hough , hey look so black. Every ih, tint inkstand, nnlo^is I drop some of the ink upon it." •^' tt. Ihc maslci' allovve.l the boys t-. tilk to Wiliv andtey talked 10 bin, and shook ^lioucd h.ni that their hands were net dirty, thou.h thei coour ,,,, hu-k. ^.- And bow did you eo'n.e fZ y J counlry, such a great way olV ?" asked Willv, ^ We came in a ship," said o,;c of ihe boVs ; <^ and ^' .^ \^ere a great many ,ays coming.-' "And what diil yo^u come Ihr such a long way ? VVe came to learn to read and wri(e, and a creat ma yo.hcr t mgs. We have r,o.chools in our country.- ^^^^ ^^^^^nd do the h(t!c boys there do nothing but ph.y about grou up to be men tliey have learnt nothing ; so they 'jan do nothing well." * ' ^ WilK'"""'^ ''"''' ''>''^''^" li{^:e this country best ?" said cold^W^ ""'"''''' ''" ''^^>'' " l^^^^'-'u^o it is so cold. In our country we have never any ice or snow t .t never ree.es ; and hero I am almost trozen to d^atiu' ' i3Ut you cannot make snowballs, and y(,u cannot slide upon the ce," s^aid Wilir " I «• ..,i,i . ii ' '"'*^* country." ^'"uwmj. 1 fei.oi'ld not like your " 0' , but you wouhl, for it is aluays summer widi u*. • nnd we have plenty of nice fruit and pretty flo verV are too hot; and uc chmb hirJi trees ; and it h rrmH) more i.easant than this cold country. But I like to learn ^ ^ AiRS iAlARCET. ? 65 SKCTio:; in. LESSOXS ON TUP SOUL. Wia'-u;v Tea ell '-in g Slui'-dy Peb'-ble An'-svver Rose'- bush Ti:ir/-!jlcr A-Iivo' Tonniio Cel'-Jfir An -i-inals Uii-(ior-stuii(l' Stui'-y ing Kno\v'-!edge Robert ;^^rANHorE was live years oKl, and ho lived hi a pleasant loan inasm;dl vvhito Uouao with lii;j mother, who was a wiilow, and his sister, Eliza, who was three years old. Mrs Stanli'>pe was a very V'nd nioliier. She took great pleasure in teaching her two children ; and Robert and Eliza were always very willing to learn from her, lor they both lovr \ their nif.ther very much. One day, when Robert wns sitting with his mother under a large shady tree in the garden, she tlioiight she would t.dlv a Utile with h'rii, and i^ach him some good things : — Sirs Sianhope. Look, 'Robert. See that pretly roum' white stone. Pick it up; and bring it to me. Robert. Here it i;j, motlier ; what is it called 1 Mrs S. It is callod a pebble, arul I wish to lalk to you about it. If you should - Ai it any thing, would it answer you ? i?.No, mother ; a stone cannot speak. J\frs o. Look at that beautiful rose which you have pickc 1 for Eliza. It is very difilM'ent from (he pebble : it has a stem and green leaves, and a Hoft and pretty flov\er. When It was on tlie rose-bush, it lived and grew ; and it will live a day or two longer, .r Eliza puts it into a tumbler with water. The rose is more curious then tlie pebble ; ii lives !)ut the pebble docs not. — Talk to the rose and see '' it will answer you. 7?. Mother it will do no good for me to talk to the rose* Ruses cannot hear or speak. 5 'It i It i 5 - 1 i % ' ' 1 t j I I V' 1 I j 1 i 1 i 66 wT/r5 S. Can a rose be taught any thing ? i?. No, mother, no mare than a pebble can. Mrs S, Come now aiul U)ok at my watch. I will open It and show you what is inside of it. R. 0, how many curious little wheels there are ? How they keep going round and round. I wish I had a watch that would go. Do you remember mother, the other day when you opened your watch and showed it to Eliza, ehe thought it wa;* alive ? Mrs S. Yes, my son ; but your sister is a very little girl, and did not know any better. You know that the watch is not alive. R. But it seems as if it was : it moves of it^elf. Mrs S. No, Robert, a watch cannot move of itself, any more than a rose, or a pebble. It must be woimd up with a key ; and there is a spring inside which makes all the wheels go. R, ATother, the watch, 1 tnink, is a great deal more curi- ous then the pebble or the rose. Mrs S. Well, see then if the watch will say anything to you, or if you can teach it any thing. R. It cannot speak, mother j and I cannot teach it any more than I can the pebble or the r ^. Mrs S. Why cannot the Watch speak, or learn any- thing ? R. Oh ! mother, I have just thought why it cannot, and why the pebble and rose cannot. Is it not that they have no mouths to speak with, and no ears to hear with 1 Mrs S. That is one reason, my son, but it is not all. A dog has a mouth, and lips, and teeth, and a tongue, very much like yours, but he cannot speak, or learn to read. R. But our dog Tray can make a noise ; he barks very loud sometimes. Mrs S. Can Tray say any words T R, No, motlier ; not one. I wonder why he cannot, since he has u mouth, and lips, and teeth, and a tongue so much like mine. Mrs S. Did you ever try to teach Tray to read ? 1 cr R. No, mother ; dogs cannot learn to read. But I have tiiught Tray to drive the^ducks away from the yard in front of the house ; and L have taught him to run after my ball and bring it to me, when I throw it into the road. But I wonder why lie cannot learn to read. He seems to know a grtot many things. Mrs.S. He knows some th'ngs, Robert. But how many more thing?? you md Eliza know than poor Tray does. You and Eliza too can learn a great many more things, and keep on learning as long as you livrt. But Tray cannot do so ; he knows about as much now as he ever wi" know. R. Mother, did Tray know it was wicked to steal the meat out of the cellar, when you whipped him fordoing so ? Mrs S. No, he did not. He does not know any thing about what is right and wrong. R. Do any cats, or dogs, or horses, or cows, know any thing about what is right and wrong, mother ? Mrs S. No, my dear, they do not. Men and women, and boys, and girls, know what is right and wrong ; but beasts, and birds, and fishes, and insects, do not. You see how very difterent you are, Robert from all these ani- mals, and from a watch, a rose, and a pebble. You can understand me when I speak to you ; you can speak to me so that I know exactly 'vlt^a you mean ; you can learn to read, and to write, 1 to do a great many dif- ferent things ; you can keep on learning and studying book.^, and getting knowledge ; you know what right and wrong is ; you feel happy when you do right ; and you feel un- happy when you do wrong. Do you undei-stand all this ? R. 1 think I do, mother. Mrs S. Remember, then, how very different you are from a pebble, a rose, a watch, and your dog Tray. We will try, at another time, to find out what it is that Tnahs fiou so dlWerent ^vom thew.z Gallaudet. i m 1 1 ? ? '! OS LESSONS ON TilE SOUL CONTINUED Break'-fast Yes'-ter-day Ileav'-i-est Weisrht Hanl'-ness Crca'-tures Veg'-e-ta-b!e An'-i-nial Ques'-tion Somc'-what Beau'-u-fiil Flowers The next day, soon after breakfatt, Mi^j Stanliope ami her two children went to take a walk in the garden. Their little dog Tray went with t!iem, riiniiing and play- ing by their side. Eh'za asked her mother if t^he mig' t go and pick some fresh llowers to put into her tumbler with those that Robert gave her. Mrs Stanliope «aid yes, and away ran Eliza, as fast as she could go, with Tray run»* ning afier lier. T'.lrs Stanhope and Robert, after they had done walking, sat down on a bench, and talked witlieach other. llobert. I have been thinking this morning, mother, about what you told me yesterday j and I thouglit how very dillerent sister Eliza is from the pebble. She is not like it at all. Mrs Stanhope, But, Robert, is not Eliza a little like the jxjbble in some things? R. How, mother, I d'^ not understand you ? j\Irs S. Which is the heavier, Eliza or the peb- ble ? R. 0, Eliza to be sure. I can easily lift the pebble ; but 1 can hardly lift Eliza, she is so heavy. Mrs S. Then do you not see that the |)e])ble hae something that Eliza has ? They both have ivcight. R, Oh, now I understand. Eliza ond the pebble are somewhat alike in many things. Butli of them have weight — and have they not also ihape, also ccloin'y also hardness ? Mrs S. Very well, Robert. But now try if you can tell me any things in which the rose and your little sister are alike. R, I am sure I can tell you some things. Let me thiidi. vVhy, Eliza arid the rose are alike in some tfn'ngs, l>ecause in some things they are both like the pebble. t Eli;':a, and the rose, and the pebble too, have weighf, hard- ness, form, anj colour. 69 {»•• The rose, mother. -^frs S. Why ? , l'^' Because its shane is morp TUro t?i- » t ^^Mrs S. You nro riglu. Eli^a and .he ro3e bo.l, have go tJ^ 'r'i'c':Cat ,7""' 'r '"•" '"•"' -"' '-« -" %h ? ' "'" '" ''""""='■• '« "ot I'is life like Elizu'. .i.af ttl;;:; :?,[, ;°:',:?1-;^ "- '■!•« "f an c.at„re, Ell^;^':rl':e^!.:':.;'tJxr^'''■"'->■''''"^^'"-'■'^'' ^l/r,? ,V. Well, tr\'. ancL:»?"" "'""'" ''"^'"S "->'''> W,., "-ays take time to tlli;^ " " ''"'' 1"=^""" '"' a-'-ver. al- Gallal'det. LESSONS ON THE SOriL roMTI>^— ^ U clotk blrelch'-ed Back'-wardAt-ton'-tive \i .-I f \ i TO I think 1 slumia see some lUUe wlieeui t. ^ round, like \hose of the watch. j^^ ^ M.. .V/anAop.. . What ">a ey-uu -nk o K^^ ^^^ /^. You loUi n.e U 7^^^^.^.. :ti;::;';\i,at ten us what watch tliat make these two htllc tumg- ^ o'clock it is. ^. , , ,.,>,, vnpnn iV/;. 5-. Tl. kands o^^^e w^^ J^ ^y^ of Eliza ii. Ye. ; and must it not he ^^ ^^^ '^'^S . .^ that makes her hand. go. Mother, ha. lm^ j. woundup every day, 01 it wouiu go ; and I am sure no hody ^^'^^^j^^^H Eh^^ ^.^^, Mrs S. Robeit, r^'t your right hand to your ig ^^^'' I T v.ouP -—but why do you wish JR. There, mother, I have .—out y ^ me to do so? .. ^ n you. NovV put J\//-s,S'. Waitahtlle, and! will tLliyou. i your left hand to your left ear. R. There it goes, mother. J\Irs S. What made it go ? ''i ' No, mother ; bis hon>l ^v.s .!eaJ, a,ul .tiff, "-1 - cot^d noJ move ; but mine >« abve, anU so a can "'"Mrs S. What is tbe reason that your l,a,.e. As he came down stairs, be met bis mother. " Come, my son," said she, " let us go and take a walk in the garden, and I will tell you something niore about the soul." — So they went into the garden, und while they were walking, they Jiad the following conversation. Mother. Robert, can you tell me what the soul is ? Hohert. My soul, mother, is that sometliing inside of m€ which thinks. M. You have a body and a soul ; I have a body and a soul ; Eliza has a body and a soul ; and every man and woman, and boy and girl, has a body and a soul. R. IMother, have very liitle babies souls ? M. Yes, my son ; but you know they do not think much, till diey grow older. R. JNIother, does the soul grow I J\L Not like the body ; but the soul is able to think more and more, and to understand more and more, and to learn more and more* And so ive may say the soul grows. 7^ But we do not give the soul food, mother to make it grou', a^5 we do tlie body. M. No, my son w!^" cannot feed the soul as we do a little child when it is hungry ; hut we teach the soul a ■^ood many things. And this icaching is the food of Ihe 6ow/.— But tell me, Robert, is ynjr soul any thing like a l>ebble, a rose, or a watch ? R. No, mother, but 7ni/ body is; because my body has weight, hardness, form, and ci^lour ; all which a pebble, a rose, and a watch, also have. M Can you see my soul, Robert 1 R, No me-tii'T • and you cannot see mine. I cannot see my own so'.i! ', but 1 can see the pebble, and the rose, and the watch, and a great many other things. he 5J a 73 M. Yes, Robert, you can see the form and the colour ol these .lungs. Can you hear my soul ? R. I can hear you, when you speak, mother. M. \cs. I think what I am going to say to you ; and then 1 think to have my tongue ar;d my lips move : and I speak, and you hear the sound of my volce.~Put your ear to this watch : do you hear any thing ? R. Yes, mother ; it goes lick-tick, tick-tick. M. Now put your ear close to me. f am going to tnmk. Try ifyou can hear my thinking. R. No, mother, I cannot at all. M. My soul, dien, makes no noise when it is think- ing, and you cannot hear my soul ; you can only hear my voice vvhpn I tell you what I am thinking. ^'^^-^^''^^^Q^J^^range, mother. The soul must be very diflerent from any thing I can see or hear. M, Ye«, my son ; you cannot see, or hear, or taste, or smell, or ieel, the soul. The body you can see, and hear, and taste, and smell, and touch. It is like the pebble the rose, and the watch ; and it is therefore called maife?' • it IS matenal. Bui the soul has not form, or colour, or sound, or tabte, or smell, or hardness, or softness. It is not matter. We call it spirit ; it is spiritual. R. Mother, does not Tray think sometimes? Jf. What makes you think so, Robert. R. He stops, and seems to be thinking what he shall do, and then he runs away off, as if he meant to o-o after something that he had been thinking about. "^ Jl/. Yes; and when you tell him to go after your ball, you know he will go. ' 72. Mother, I have heard about a dog that used to carry a basket to market, and get some meat for his master from the butcher. He used to do this very often : and the master would bend the money by him, and write on a piece ol paper, and tell the butcher what kind of meat he wanted. I wish Tray could do so. M. Well 1 bc>lieve, Robert, that dogs thirds, and so do <)thcr amnrnls. But that something within Mm Avhich thinks, IS very diflerent from that something within us G I, I A I I i i !i i 74 uhich thinks. Tray has not a sonl like yours. His Ijodtj is a great deal like yours. He has animnl lite, and so have you ; he grows, and so do you ; lie catjs and drinks, and sleeps, and feels cold and warm, hungry and thirsty, sick and well, glad and sorry, and so do you ; and ho has also to die as well as you. iiut vvHen you thirds of your soul, how dillerent you are Irorn Tray ' You know what is right and what is wrong, and he knows nothing about it. You can grow wiser as you Ti-ow oUler ; hut he cannot he tauglit to read, or write, or cipher. Your soul does not die when your body does ; hut he has no life beyond the prc:;ent life. ^ R, Will my soul live, mother, after my body is ^ M. Robert, your soul ivill never die. Yonr body will die, and be laid in the grave, and turn to dust ; but your soul will never die ; it \^ ill (dwaijs live. R, I do not understand you, mother. „ t> , . JVL Look at the stones in the gravcNwalk, K<'beri ; there are hundreds and thousands of them. Your sou will live as many years as there are little stones .n that long walk ! R. And will my ^oul die then, mother/ M. No, Robert, it xvxW not die then. // will keep on livin^r. Your soul will live as many years as tliere are stones in all the gravel-walks in all the gardens of the country ; and it will not die then; it will keep on living. Your soul will live for ever : tt will never, never die. , i 'u R Oh ! mother, mother, how long my soul wiu live 1 I cannot think how long it will live. iiut where will it hve ? where will it go when I d.e^ who will take care of mv soul 1 will your soul, and mine, and dear sister Eliza's go to the same place, ^^iev vf^v^ all dead ? Do tell ae. I wish to Know all about ^ ' M. Robert, there is not time now. But it shall not be long before have a gi I will tell you about it. lou Wlii •where it is going •eat deal to learn about your soul ; and about to, after your body is dead and laid m the grave ; and what you inusit do that your aoul may be happy for ever ; and it will give me pleasure by and by to teach you all I know about these things Gallaudet. WHAT MAKES A HAPPY OLD AGE. Wil'-liam Gray Hearl'-y IJea'-son Youth Fu'-ture Co'i-verse' y\•^bus'-ed Gr'.eve At'>ten'-tion Vig'-our Has'-ten-ing En-gnge' Pleas'^ures Cheer'-ful For-got' ten " You are old, father William," the young man cried ; " The few locks that are left you are gray : You are hale, father William, a heart ' old man ; Now tell me tlie reation I pray." ''^ In the days of my youth," father William replied, *• I remember'd that youth would fly fast ; And abused not my iiealth and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last." " You are old, father WiUiam," the young man cried, " And pleasures with youth pass away ; And yet you lament not the days that are gone ; Now tell me the reason I pray." ** In \he days of my youth," father William replied, " I remember'd that youth could not last ; I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past." ^' You are old, father William," the young man cried, *• And life must be hastening away ; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death j Now tell me the reason I pray." -' I am cheerful, young man," father William repLcd, '^ Let the cause thy attention engage : In the davs of mv voutli I remember'd mv God, And he hath not forgotten my age ?' SoUTilET, i lii ■J i! ■I 7(5 BUDS. Weath'-er Gatli'-er-ed Stick'- y Toucli'-iii2 Larg'-Cist Cliesl'-nul Halves P.n '-knife Smooth'-Iy Cu'»ri-ourf Eyr''-aclr Nice'>ly Squecz'-ecl Spoilt Bcau'-li-ful Sun'-tliine Ear^Iy Win'-ter Us'-cd No'-lice aBranch'^es Wrap'-ped L'ig'-ger Chos'-en " I DO think, Willy,'' said iiis mother to him one morninw in t!ie early part orsi)nng, " that the trees will soon be in leaf." •' But, mamma," replied Willy, " the trees look as if 'hey were nothing but dry sticks, just as they have been .ill the winter. I cannot see any thing on them like leaves or flowers." " I believe that you can see as well as I can ; but then you aro not so much used to take notice of what you see. When I was a little child like you, I did not observe what happened in the spring, bui when I g.evv older I did ;. and I saw that every sprir.g the trees, which had looked all the win- ter as if thv^y had been dead, came out into leaf. The next spring I watched the trees, to see when they would come into leaf again ; and then I observed, that at the end of the dry branches there were little round buds, not much bigger than a pin's head, and when the weather was warm, these little buds grew larger.'** " And are these little buds upon the trees now, mam- ma?" "They are; and they tell me that there will soon be leaves, and tlien flowers." Some days afterwards, when the buds on the trees had grown much larger, his mamma gatiiered some of them to show Willy the little loaves and flowers inside. *' How sticky it feels I" said he, as he took into his hand one of these large buds ; " I think it is dirty." " No," replied his mother, " this sticky sttfl" comes from the inside of th 3 bud, and covers the outside all over, to prevent the rmn from touching the bud, for the rain would hurt it.'' '' Now let us see what there is inside, mamma," said Willy. When tliey reached home, his mamma took all the buds she had gathered out of the paper in which she had wrapped them, and A.. 77 9> laid ihcni oa a tablj ; an 1 having cliaseii one of ilij largest of iliG budi of the horcjo-clio.stnut tree, f-Iic cut it into two halves with a penkiiilc, wliich, being sharp, cut it very sinoolhly. " Look, inaninm," saiil Willy, " tliere are no leuvc:^ nor llowern !" " There is suine- thing," replied she, "that uould have grown into leaves and lluwcrj!, if tlie bud had remained on the tree." She then picked out tlie insiile of the bul with thepuint of tho kiiile, and showed Willy ^^mne little things .shap- ed like leaves, but thev v/ere not o;rceri. " How curi- ous !" said he; "and what is this while stull' btickln;^ abodt the little loaves ? it looks like bits uf cotton, suidi as you put in my car v :n I had the eurncli to keep it warm. Oh, this is io keep the little buds warm, tiioug'- it IS nut cotton." As she picked out the leaves, she made Willy ob- serve how nicely they were fulded over each odier, and how closely they stuck together. " If they were not so well squeezed together," saiil AVilly, " they could never all l)e packed up in this bud, diough it is a large one. And what is the cover made of, mamma '^" " It is made of little leaves also." '• 13ut they are iiart^ and do not look at all like the little leaves inside." "No, because the cold weather f^poiltthem; so, instead of growing into leaves, they became brown and hard ; but you see they do very well to cover up die other?, and keep them warm." " O yes, mamma, just like my great- coat J but now, pray show me the flower." " Here it ip, said she, taking something out of the middle of the bud ; " you can just see the shape. This would have grown into a pretty bunch of white and pink tlowers. W^hen the buds on the tree burst open, and you see die leaves and the (lower growing, do you think you will know their shape again f " Oh yes, mamma, only they will be a great deal bigger." " The buds will grow loj-rji-ij' nr^^\ \r\fQQ^ QYovv '.Ifiv " Said his nianima- " till at last the coverinji will be too small to hold them ;then it will burst open ; and the little leaves will be green, and spread themselves out, and after that the flower will blow, and G'2 I m 1 1 Pi ^1 1, '•ii lis i »!s _( ..' I 1 ':. 1 jt i; 1 i Jd look bcaiilirul. Bui a great many days must pass first ; for they miir-t have rain to vvatr tliem, and sunshine to vva.Sii them and make them grow." Mus Marcet. Driv'-ing Ass Mar'-ket Trudg' Wiiis'-tling Sir' rail Seo'-ond -ing THE OLD MA V AND HIS ASS. Fourlli Free'-dorn IVIer'-cy Tum'^blcu Own^-er Riv'er Slioul'-dcrs Drwvvn'-cd Laugh At-teiTij-ts' Dii-like' Trou'-b!e Riii'-ing A'-ged La'-zy Knave Cri ])'-[) led Soon'-ei' Hon ''•est Strug'-gle Bui' -gain An old man and his little boy, were driving an ats to iTiJirke: (0 ?ell. " What a fool is tliis ft-llow," says a man k:pon the road, "lobe trudging it on fool vitli'his sen, thai his ass may go light !" The old m: -i h.-aring this, set liis boy upon the ass, and went wiusuing by his side. " Why sirrah," rries a second man to the I)oy, " is it fit for you to be riding, while your poor aged lather is walking on foot?" The father, upon this, took down his joy from the a^s, and mounted himcself. " Do you see," says a third, " how tlie lazy old knave rides along upon iiis beast, while his poor little boy is almost'crippled with walking !" The old man no sooner heard this, than he took up his son behind him. "Pray, honest friend," says a fourth, '« is that ass your own'?" "Yes," says the man. "One would not have thought so," replied the other, " l)y your loading him as you do without mercy. You and your son are better able to carry the poor beast than he is to carry you !" " Any thing to please," says the o^vner ; and so he and his son coming otT, they tied the legs of the ass together, and by the helj) of a pole tried to carry him upon theii shoulders along the bridge that led to the town. The sight of this was so odd, that the people ran in crowds to laugh at it, till tlie ass, feeling a dislike at the too great kindnp's of his master, began to struggle for his freedom, burst 3 cords tiiat tied him, clipped from the pole, tumbled into the river and was drowned. The poor 70 for tj? IS <4a man made llie beet of his vvny home, ^Hed with shame and sorrow that, hy his attempts to plea.e every body, he bad pleased nobody, given himself much tiouble, and lost bi6j ass into the bargain. Thomson's l.essoxNS. IMonth Ko'-sy ]kau '-ty Pleas'-urc Bowsers Com'plete' JRo'-si-ly Ac'-lu-al Wrong De-ny MAY. Po'-ct Pa'-ges A'-gcs JMod'-er Du'-tv Nym[»hs Elves Shelves Dra'-per-y Col'-uur May, thou moi;th of rosy b uty, Month when pleasure i;; a duty ; Month of bees, and month of flowers. INIonth of blossom -laden bowers, thou mer-v month complete^ May, thy very name is s\>eel ! 1 no sooner write the word Tha- it seems as though it heard, And looks up and laughs at me, Like a sweet face, rosily ; Like an actual colour brigfit Flushing from the paper's white. If ti.Ci rains that do us wrong Come to keep the winter hjng, And deny us thy sweet looks, I can love thee, sweet, in books j Love thee in the poet's pages, Where they keep thee green for ages : May's in Milton, May's in Prior, May's in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer ; May's in all the Italian books ; She has old and modern nouks, Where she sleef)s with nymphs nnd elves In happy places they call shelves, Widi a drapery thick with blooms, And will rise and dress your rooms. 'I I *;l : 1 ) 80 Come, yo rains, thsn, if you vvi!!, JMay's at liome, and witli me ^till ; Bui come rather thou, good weather, And fiud us in the iields together. Leigh Hu^nt. CLOUDS. RAIN, AND SNOW. Morn'-ing Si range Prom'-is-ed Caught FaU' •ing Yes'-terday Ea^.ger-ly To-day' Thaw A-fraid' Tea'-fipoon In-quir'-ed One mornins, ^,,.^ „,^ ^, mamma called Willy, and said, " I prom- ised, my dear, to show you when a cloud was falling^: look out at the window, and you will see one now.- Willy ran to the window in a great hurry to see what he thought must be so strange a sight. He looked first up in the skies ; then he looked to the right, and then to the left : nowhere could he see any thing fallinn;. " Why, Willy, wh--'- are your eyes '^" said mamma ; « I see a great many things falling." *< Where ?" inquired Willy eagerly j " I can sec nothuig at all but drops of rain." " Well ; and what are drops of ram made ot { « They are made of water," replied Willy. " And' what are clouds made of?" «' Why : you once told me, mam^nf^a, they were made of water too." , , m • i '« Well, then, my dear, when a cloud tails, it does not come down plump upon your head like a pail of water as you were afraid it did, but it falls in drops, and those drops are called rain." . . , , "How funny 1" cried Willy. " Then rain is a cloud tumbling down to the ground 1" « Yes, it is ; but it is called a cloud only when it is up in the skies, and rain when it falls to the ground." ic A^.i „r. ;n iiiA nloiiiU is it in drons, mamma , or alj in one like a pail of water 1" , „ i « In drops," replied his mother, " much smaller drops than rain : it is more like the little drops that vye caught m the teaspooK when we held it over the steam." 81 " Oil yes, I remember," cried Willy ; '« and I sard how many things were made of water j and now I see tliere are a great many more thuigs made of water j there are tlie clouds, and rain, and steam, and ice, and snow." V\ illy then thought a moment, and afterwards said, "Why, mamma, you said that snow came from the clouds : so Bnow IS a cloud falling as well as rain, is it not ?" J'Yes," replied mamma ; « gnow is a cloud falling when the weather is so cold that it freezes the rain and turns It into snow : and rain is a cloud falling to the grounour Sa'-vi-our Er-ro'^ne ous Quar'-rel-ling A-pos -tie Dis^ci'-ples Doc'-trines Neigh'-bours Peace'-a-bly En'-e-mies Con-vinc'-ed A-bus'-ing Re-lig'-i-ous Per'-se.cut^ed Harsh '-ly Re-vil'-ed Christians should endeavour, as the apostle Paul com- mandelh thein,«io live peaceably whh all men," even with tho^e of a dilTerent religious persuasion. Our Sa-» viour, Ch.iist, conunanded his disciples to «' love one an- ether." He taught them to love even their en-.uiies, to bless those that cursed them, and to pray for those that perser-uted them. He himself prayed for his murderers. Many men hold erroneous doctrines, but we ought not t) hate or persecute th^m. We ought to seek for the trutiA, and hold fast what we are convinced is the truth, but not to treat harshly those who are in error. Jesus Christ did not iniLndiiis religion to be forced on men by violent m^ans. He would not allow his disciples to fight for him. If any person treat us unkindly, we must not do the same I I i I 82 to them J for Chribt and his apostles have taught us not to return evil f jr evil. If we would obey Christ, we mu&t do to others not as they do to us, but as we would wish them to do to us. Quarrelling with our neighbours and abusing liietn is not tlie way to convince them that we are in tlie right and they in the wrong. It is more likely to convince them that we have not a Christian sj)irit. We ought to show ourselves followers of Christ who, " when he was reviled, reviled not again," uy be- having gently aru kindly to every one. Whately. THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF. Grief Flow'-ers Sovv'-ed roop ing D Smil'ed Brief Through Hours Wan'^der-ings " Oh ! call my brother back to me ? I cannot play alone ; The summer comes with flower anu bee, — Where is m} brother gone l The flowers run wild, the flowers we sowM Around our garden tree ; Our vine is drooping with its load — Oil ! call him back to me !" " He would not hear thy voice, fair child ? He may not come to tliee ; The face that once like summer smiled, On earth no more thou'lt see. A rose's brief bright life of joy. Such unto him was given ; So — thou must play alone, my boy ! Thy brother is in heaven." " And has he left his birds and flowers ? And must I call in vain ? And through the long, long summer hours, Will he not come again i And by the brook and in the glade 83 »tto lUfct mid >ur3 we lore ian iri.st be- ^ Are all our wanderings o'er ? Oh ! while my brother with me play'd. Would I had loved him more /" Mrs Hemans. THE PURPLE JAR, Pur'«>ple Lon'-don Pass'-ed A -long' Prel'-ty Ap-pear'-ed Chem'-ist Pull'-ing Blue Flow'-er-pot Ex-ann'-in-ed Ex-ceed'-'-irig-ly Vase Jar Be^-lieve' De-cid'-ed Choofc-'e Hap '-pi -est Sig' ni-fy Ive-doiii>ie Com'^mis'-s'ons Rosamond, a little girl of about seven years old, was walk- ing with her mother in the streets of London. As she passed along, she looked in at the windows of the shops, and she saw many pretty things, of which she did not know the use, or even the names. At last they canrie to a shop which appeared to her far more beautiful than the rest. It was a chemist's t hop, but she did not know- that. "Oh , mother !" cried sh'c; pullin^T her mo*'ier's hand, " look, look ; blue, green, red, yellow, and purple ? Oh, mamma, what beautiful things I Wont y u buy some of the -30?" " What use would tijey be to me, Pciamond ?" said her mother. " You might put flowers in them- onfi diey would look so pretty on the chimney-piece ' :. .ish I had one of them," " You have a flower pot," said her mother j <* and that is not a flower-pot," " But I could use it for " £ower-pot, mamma, yen know." " Perhaps, if you were to m" h nearrr, if you were to examine '.!, you might be disappointed." "No, inileed, I aui sure i ;ihou:d not j I eUou'd like it exceedingly." i i^'f ll 84 Rosamond kept her head turned to look at tlie purple vase till she could see it no longer. <* Oh, mamma, would you stop a minute for me ; I have got a stone in my ishoe ; it hurts me very much." " How comes there to be a stone in your shoe ?" "Because of this great hole, mamma,— it comes in iiiere ; my shoes are quite worn out ; I wi^-h you would be so very good as to give me another pair." " Nay, Rosamond, but I iiave not money enough to buy both shoes and flower-pots. 1 mean, 'however, to buy one of them for you, and now which would you rather have, that jar or a pair of shoes ?" "Dear mamma, thank you— but ifvou could buy both—" ' -^ " No, not both." " Then the jar if you please." " But I should tell you that I shall not give you another pair of shoes this month." " This month ! that is a very long time indeed ; I te- lieve I had better have the new shoes,— but yet, that pur- ple flower-pot.— ' indeed, mamma, these shoes are not so very, verj I think I might wear them a little longer : I can m.. lem last to the end of the month. Don't you think so, mamma ?" " Nay, my dear, I want you to think for yourself; well, have you decided ?" " Yes, 1 believe I should like the flower-pot ; that is, if you wont think me very silly, mamma " " Why, as to that, I can't [)romise you, Rosamond ; but when you are to judge for yourselr; you should choose what will make you happiest ; and then it would not sig- nify who thought you silly," Rosamond felt her joy redouble, upon hearing her moth- er desire the servant, who was with them, to huy the purple jar, and bring it home. He had other commissions, 80 he did not return w^ith them. Rosamond, she got in, ran to gather all her flowers. as soon as Miss Edgeworth. 85 bead D THE PUliPLE JAR CONCLUDED. are Ta'-ble d'ed Bowl En-tire My Liq'uor Hum '-our Dis-tres'-ses Im-pru' dent los'-en Wis'-er 'i ro^ceed' ed Ue-lore' Dis-a-gree'-a-ble A-bide' ^^ II rn' '^» '^ ^^1 ^'''''''' ""'^^ ^"^ ^^^^ '^^^""-e the flower. in^ with the flowers m her lap. * "No, inueed, mamma, it will come home verv soon I p::;.rn;n::if;." '' '"' """""""'"^ "-'^^^ me"7aTS^' the jar brought in and set d.nvn onlhe «me than Kosa.nond proceeded lo lake off the ton. ,? ' '" "— It smelU very disagreeably— vvhat is it ? I did not want this black stutr." vvnat is it . i " Nor r neither, my dear." water!"' ' '""" ''"" " '"' """^ "" "'« "^^ver pol with •' That's as you please, my dear." the ntinJle t','!"^ p'? ^"I' ^™=""""^ proceeded to empty appoim nor ; ^f "■'"' "■"' ''^'" ^"'l-rise and dis- SToir;:r /""' '""T'J' «>"?')•. to find that it r whi K.^^^'"^''' ?*'• .^'"''"' ^fl*"'" vvhite glass li^M D ® '"""'' "'t!» "I'icli it had been filled 1-U'le Rosamond burst into tears. " r;uCini^Za;;:ird;.=^""''-^"'-'''''-''"'»p^^ ' And so I am disappointed, indeed • I vvi4, T h. i Ter ua H,?/. li"'" 'f ,°"'' '" """' "" "''■* >""ntl. : L^iLtrii';rr;::!nt^.r.L''":'.!"^--d:ng,y. tha.^p..le stu. and\al,ri?yo7;¥o„F H Wf n •t 1 ./ 86 (I No, Rosamond ; you must abide by your own choice ; and now the best thing you can do is, to bear your disappointment with good humour." But Rosamond's disappointment did not end here ; many were the distresses into which her imprudent choice brought her before the. end of the month. Every day her shoes grew worse and worse, till at last she could neither run, dance, jump, nor walk in them. Whenever Rosamond v^^as called to see any thing, she was pulling her shoes up at the heels, and was sure to be too late. Whenever her mother was going out to walk, she could not take Rosamond with her, for Rosamond had no soles to her shoes. " Oh, mamma," she was often forced with shame to say, " how 1 wish that I had chos^^n the shoes — they would have been of so much more use to me than that jar j however, I am sure — no, not quite sure — but I hope I shall be wiser another lime." Miss Edgeworth. THE SABBATH-DAY.— A DIALOGUE. Sab'-bath Might^-y Ring'-ing Bade Spring '-in g Pleas'-ant«^ly Thought'-ful Quick'-ly Com-mand'-ments Pro'vok'-ing Stron'-gcr Lin'-ger Be'hav'-i-our Ne'-glect' Sa'-vi our TOM PLAYFtJL. Though the Sabbath-'bells are ringing, Let us wander wild and free ; While the flowers around are springing, Come and play alonp; with m.e. HARRY THOUGHTFUL. What, and mock the God who made us ! Scorn what his commandments say ! Gou iS migulv, anil he baue us Holy keep the Sabbath-day. 87 TOM. Ay ! but who would mourn, and sori-ovs* When the sun smiles pleasantly May it no* be rain tosmorrovv ? Come to-day and play with me. HARRY. Duty loudly bids me slay not ; Bids me hear not what you say ; Life goes quickly, and I may not Live another Sabbath-day, TOM. Thus to leave me, how provoking Duty is your constant plea : But I know that you are joking ; Come, one minute play with me. HARRY. Not a moment : grace is stronger Than the snares the wicked lay. It were sin to linger longer j I will keep the Sabbath-day. TOM. Haste away, then, since you dare not Take your pleasure ; — bend your knee When and where you will, 1 care not ; You shall never play with me. HARRY. I can pardon bad behaviour, Nor will I neglect to pray fri i. liUl JU yci may And holy keep the Sabbath-day. ANONYBiaUS^ I i '.(■ t ^ ' * 1^ ss THE COAT AND BUTTONS. Ta'-ble Voice Bos'^om Rec%ol-lect' In-ter-rupl' Wool Rough '-ly Shep'-lierd Frig!it'.en-ed Im-ng'-ine Quite iMcad'-o\v Lib'-er-ty Bleat Pit' e-ous-ly Lamb Re-leas'-ed Shi v'-ei-ing Strange Wors'-ted Thread Phjng'ed Mavcbine' Wov'-er» Re-.smu'-oci* Tai'^lor Con-elude' D-nor'-.tr>ou3 Scrv'-ed Joui'-nej'-mnn Cross-leg '-{led Hon ''-our En-ter-taiii'-ed Per '-feet Slrang'-ers Sewn iT'iiNKit would be very funny to hear my coat sp-ak', said Edward one day after he had been reading a lahle about birds and beasts that spoke to one another A lew moments afterwards a szoft voice issued from the bosom of his coatj and spoke as follows: — "I recollect once growing on the back of a sbcep." ±.dward could r ot lielp starting back with surprise ; l>owever, he interrupted him, snvina, « I am afraid, iVlr Coal, you Jo not know what you are talking about j tor coats do not grow, nor ila sheep wear coats." " I was only wool ^^'hen I grew on the back of the sheep,'- replied the voice ; " and a very pleasant life we led to- gether, spendmg all the day in the green fields, and rest- ing at night on the grass. Sometimes, indeed, the sheep rubbed himself so roughly against the trees and sJirubs, tliat 1 was afraid of being torn off; and sometimes the birds came and pecked off a few flakes of the wool to line then' nesta, but they took so little it was no great loss. We had long lea this quiet life, until one day the shep. herd and his dog drove all the dieep into a stream of water which ran close by. The sheep on which I grew was sadly frightened j and, hv my part, I could not im- agine what they were going to do with me, they rubbed and scrubbed me so mucii ; l)ut when it wns ovor, I looked so delicately white, that I was quite vain of my gpauty, and I thought wo wore now to return and fri.sk 89. in tlie meaJovv, as we liad done before. But, alas ! we« were going to be parted forever! Instead of setting the s^ieep at l.f^rty, the shepherd took out a large pair of sliears.-.Only imagine our terror !~the poor sheen, I be- .eye, thought his head was going to be cut off, and began bleat mo;t pileously ; but the shepherd, without at. tendingto hi. cries, held him down, and began cutting me off close to his skin. When the sheep found thatS^e shears did not hurt him, he remained qiiet ; it was then my turn to be frightened. It is true that the shears dIS not hurt me either, because I coiild not feel ; but then I coud not bear the thoughts of being parted from my dear friend, the sheep ; for we had grown up together eversmce he bad been a little lamb. As soon asVhe sheep was released, he went about shivering with cold, Seating and moaning for the loss of his beloved fleece. ntLr fl^' '"^^1 P^^^'^^ '^ ^ ^^^ '^'*^ ^ g^e^t many other fleeces, and sent to some mills, where there were a great number of strange little things that were for ever twisting and turning round. They seized hold of us, and pulled UF, and twisted us about in such a wonderful manner, that at, last we were all drawn out into worsted threads, so unlike wool, that I hardly knew myself again. iJut it was slHl worse, when, some time after- wards, they plunged me into a large copper of dark dirty. looking water; and when I was taken out, instead of being white I was of a bright blue colour, and looked very beautiful. Well, some time after this I was sent to the cloth mills, and my threads were stretched in a machine called a loom, and there I was woven into a loZ time - ''''' ''''" ^"^'^'^ "P' '"^ ^'y '^"'^^ ^'' « Indeed," said Edward, « I think you required a little rest after going through so many changes." " Soon after," resumed the voice. " I was bought by a tailor, and lay on the shelf of his shop, when one day you and your papa came in and asked to see some- iinlolded on the counter witii several other pieces^^ an(^ i. 90 if you remember, ^^ ou cliose me on accourit of mj beautiful colour." " So I dill," said Edward ; " but you are not so bright a blue now as you were then." " Something the worse for wear," rc[)lied the coat j " if jiou slain me and cover mo with dust, that is your fault, not mine. But to conclude my story ; ihe tailor took out his enormous scissors, which reu;inded me of the shears that had cut me f om the sheep, and cut me into the shape of a coat. I was then sewed up by some journeymen, who sat cross-legged on a table ; and when [ was finished, I was sent to you ; and, ever since, I have had ,the honour of covering the back of a human being, instead of that of a sheep." Edward was much entertained with the story of the coat : " But these bright buttons," said he, " are not made of wool ; have you nothing to say about them 1" *' They were perfect strangers to me, till they were sewn on," said the coat ; " I know nothing about them, they must speak for themselves." Mrs Marcet. THE COAT AND BUTTONS CONCLUDED. Kais ■ed Sharp Jing'-ling Con^fus'-ed Dis-tin'-guish Im-per'-a-tive Si-'lenre Prel'-er-ence U'-sual Shrill Dis tinrt' Tm-pos' si-ble Church Bur'-i-ed Dis'-mal Day'-liglil Fi'-eMy Com-pan'-lons Soci'-e-ty Moulds HaMoo'-ed Rc-sounJb' Con-tin'-u-ed Lathe Mon'-ey Half'-pen-ny Lis'-ten-ed Upon this, the whole row of little buttons raised their sharp voices at once, which sounded like the jingling of so nian^'' little bells* This made such a confuse*.! noise- that Edward could not distinguish'a word they said . He therefore, in an imperative tone, commanded silence ; I \ ni and, laying hold ofone oft' n with hU finger and thumb, he said, « Come, Mr Butf.,.., let me hear the story from you, while oil the rest remain quiet." Pleased by this preference, the fane of tiie button shone brighter than usual, and in a small, shrill, but distinct voice, he began thus : — "We lay for a ' )ngtimc under ground ; n(.t bright and sliining as you now see u^s, but mixed up with dirt and rubbish. How long we remained there it is impossible for me to say ; for as it was always dark, there was no telling day from night, nor any means of counting weeks and years." " But could not you hear the church-clock strike ?" wiid Edward ; « that would have told you how time pas- sed." " Oh ! no," replied the button ; « if we had had ears we could not have heard, so deep were we buried in the bowels of the earth." " Oh dear ! how dismal that mu:it have been I" ex- claimed Edward. " Not fjr us, who neither thought nor felt," replied the button, " Well, after having lain there for ages per- haps, all at once there was an opening made in the ground, and men came down where we lay, and dug us up ,• they talked about a fine vein of copper. < I am glad we have reached it at last,' said they, ' it will re- pay us all our labom\' They then put us into a ba.A'ot, and we were taken up above ground, and into do , ghf. The glare of light was so strong to u=, who had been so long m utter darkness, that I thought it would almost have blinded us. Well, after that, we were put into a fiery furnace." " I am sure you must have been glad then that you could not feel,-" said Edward ; « and were you burnt to ashes'?" "Oh ! no," replied the button ; " copper is a metal, and metals will not burn ; but we were melted ; and, as the earth and "''ulibish which were mixed with us do not melt, we ran out through some holes that were made on purpose for us to escape from our dirty com- ^. .^ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^T<^ # ::C\^ ^\^ ^\^ ^i> 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 072-4503 vV 92 panlons, who were not fit soci'^ty for us. We were then imprisoned in moulds, where we were left to cool, and become solid again. Men then came with hammerSj end beat us till we became quite flat. Every time they struck us we hallooad out as loud as we could, and our cries resounded to a great distance ; but they went on all the same." " What !" exclaimed Edward ; *< had vou voices to ery out ?" " N05" replied the button ; " but do you not know that if you strike against metal, it rings or resounds ? The sound of a bell is nothing but the metal tongue striking against the inside of the bell ; and you know what a noib-e it makes." " Well," continued the button, " after- we had been beaten into flat sheets, we were sent to the turner's, who cut us into litUe bits, and then placed us, one after the other, into a strange kind of machine, caUed a lathe ; he held us there, while he turned a whpel with his foot so fast that it would have made one giddy." "That is, if you had had a head," said Edward laughing. " When I was taken out of the lathe, I was quite surprised to see what a pretty round shape I had. I wondered what was to be done to me next ; for, as there was nothing by which I could be sewn on to a coat, I did not think that 1 was to be made into a button, but supposed l was intended for a piece of money." " Yes ; a roujid flat button is something like a half- penny," said Edward J." but you were much too small for that." " Yes ; and I soon found that I was to be a button, u^r they fastened a tail to me, and rul)bc^ me for a great length of time till I became very briglit. i was then stuck with the rest of us on a sheet of thick white paper." " Oh ! I remember," cried Edward ; " you were all stuck on the paper, when the tailor showed you to papa and me, and you looked quite beautiful." Edward then listened in expectation of the button continuing his story, but it was ended, and his voice was gone I Mrs Marce'^.. r r tj si h til srere as 03 THE DIAMOND {miptical.) Di'-a-mofid Plav'- thing Bade Ex-per'-i-ment Far' thing ^xtraor'-di-na-ry Thvvarf'-ed Ke-Koiv'-ed Bar'-gain Vir'-tues De-ter' iiiin-ed Ex.tin^gui.shedV7his'-per-iri2 A.bate'.ment Dis'-cov-er-y In -stead' Jew'*eMer Ac-cord '-ing^Ijr S()v'-er-e!gin3 No'vtion Talk -ing .'.ad indeed heard of l^atn "'X' tt td" "" - • She gave i. .0 0^.^"^^ "pt^T At night, when the lamn wa^ Hah^.i ♦! u-. i who were still playing witUhe ° ' -^ '^^.^'*^"' .o;hee,x^-trj;^-r::t-^ n. She told me she had found it in gutiin."he ^ hav^i„7S;Vw^i.:7:r[,:t'°'-.^''r"-='-'' ney, ffound IhatVJ st^X 'g, ,^g?J?'t ^f/'-'" that we could see to go to bed" without the Tir rdta-i75-'"''^^tter'-min-ed Re-lease' Corn-pan '-ion Cap-tiv'-i ly Abouel was the chief of an Arab tribe, which had attacked and dispersed a caravan belonging to Dannas- cus. But while the tribe were engaged securing tlie booty, the Turkish troops fell upon them, slew many, and made the rest prisoners. Abouel was disabled by a siiot in ihe arm, and was bound upon a camel, while Im favourite horse was led beside him. During the march to Acre with the prisoners, night came on ; and the Turks pitched their tenis and went to sleep. Abouel had his legs bound by a leathern strap, and was laid outside the tents, though very near them. Sleepless from pain, he heard his horse neighing and de- termined, if he could, to release his ancient companion from captivity. He crept painfully to the spot where the horse was tethered, and gnawing through the cord of goat's hair which held him, «• Go," said he, " though I am a slave, return thou to the tent thou knowest. Thou Shalt yet divide the waters of Jordan, and be refreshed by their coldness. Thou shall again eat of the grains of barley vvnich the children bring thee in their hands. Go, tell my wife I shall see her no more ; and put tfiy head within the curtains, and lick Ihe hands of mv little ones. 5} The horse was free ; but he fled not alone. With tlie instinct of his race, he smelt his master, put down his head, and seized him in his teeth by the leathern belt round his waist. Thus he left the camp bearing him in his teeth ; and he stopt not till he bore him to the door of i s I 96 his lent.— It was hid last gallop . — he laid down hii wounded master and expired. Tlie tribe vve))t over him, amJ his najne is honoured among all the Arabs or Jericho to tliis day. De la MAiiTLNt. THE SONG OF THE DYING SWAN. c It li ! i i i Swan Hea'-thu-n Slan'-za Tex'ture Char'-ac-ter Hymn Prob'-a-bly Un-mu-Iest'-ed Sr,oth Ari'»cien'.s Ty'-rant Claiise Whis'-de Fam'-ine Distinct' Beau'-li-lul Ap-pa'-reiit-ly Ul'-ter-ancG Mis'-sion-ar^y La'-bour-er Faith'- lul-ly CM! J. How loi g will the swan live 'i Parent. It is not known. A goose has been known to live a hundred years, and from the firmer texture of the flesh of the swan, that would probably live long- er. C Does the swan sing ? P. No. 1 belie v'e not. The ancients used to suppose it did ; but it is now understood that it utters onlj a kind of shrill hiss or whistle. C. But Tom told me that lie read in a poem of the dying sung " the swan. Is it not true, that the swan ever sings to i P. Poems do not always tell vvhfit is true. They sometimes instruct by using fables. This is one of tlie fables of the ancients. Bui I can tell you about a death which is equally beautiful, and it is all true. Shall 1 tell it to yoii t C. O yes, I want to hear it. P. Swartz was a missionary, that is, one who left hia own country to preach the gcspel to the heathen. He died at the age of seventy-tvvo, having been a missionary forty-eight years in India. He had such a high character among the iieaihen, that he was suffered to j)a!es through savage and lawless tribes unmolested. They saidj " Let %■ I 97 mm alone,— let him j,ass,— he is a man of God!"— A lyrant, named Hyder Ally, while he refused to enter into a treaty with others, said " Send me Swartz ;— send me the Christian missionary to treat with me, for him only can I trust."— The people had been so cruelly used, that fhey left their lands and refused to raise any thing. All they had raised had been seized and taken away. 1 he whole country would soon have been in a famine. Ihe heathen ruler promised justice, and tried to induce them to go back to their farms ; but all in vain. They would not believe him. Swartz then wrote to them, making the same promises. Seven thousand men re. turned to their land in one day. JVhen became to die, he fay for a time apparently lifeless. Gericke, a worthy fellowMabourer fi^om the riame country, supposing he was actually dead, began to chant oyer his remains a stanza of the favourite hymn which they used to sing together, to sooth each other, in his lifetime. The verses were sung through without a motion or a sign of life from the still form before him : but when the last clause was over, the voice which was sup- posed to be hushed in death took up the second stanza of the same nymn,— completed it with a distinct and sweet utterance,-and then was hushed,-and was heard no more. 1 he soul rose with the last strain. Is not this more touching and beautiful than the fable about the dying swan ? I hope you will remember it, and whenever you read of the swan, you will recollect this story and think how sweetly death comes to a good man who has faiihfully served Jesus Christ. Todd Sam'-u-el Mid'-night Pres'-ence GOD IN ALL THINGS. Scrip'-ture Fiow'-er Con'-science Lis'-ten Learn Ar'-dent When Samuel heard in still midnight, A voice amid God's presence bright. He rose and said, on bended knee, " Speak, Lord I thy servant heareth thee," I 93 Even such a voice I too may hear ,' Even such a light my soul may cheer : For Scripture words by God are given, And conscience is a ray from heaven. All that I learn can tell of God ; The Bible best : 'tis his own word ; But men and books, each star and flower. Can tell me of him more and more. Within, without, above, around, I'll Msten for the holy sound ; And Ftill my ardent prayer shall be, " Speak ; for thy servant heaielh thee." Miss Martineau. if THE DEAD WHO DIE IN THE LORI Fan^-cy Sigh Heav'-en-vvard Strives Scarce Pierce Glo'-ries Man'-sion Veil Re-signS'^ Throne Su-premc^-ly Gen'-tle Ef. forts Flight In vain our fancy strives to paint The moment after death. The glories that surround the saint When he resigns his breath. One gentle sigh his fetters breaks ,* We scarce can say, " He's gone," Before the willing spirit takes Her mansion near the throne. Faith strives, but all its efforts fail To trace her heavenward flight ; No eye can pierce within the veil Which hides that world of light. Thus much (and this is all) we know They are supremely blest ; Have done with sin, and care, and wo. And with their Saviour rest. Newton- i^i 99 HOW TO MAKE THE TIME GO FAST. [EAU. D. Ros'-a-mond Bus'-y As-sure' Long;'-gest VVait'-ing Knock Eii'^tari'-glei] Stretcli'-ing AMeri'-tion Hour'-glass Sure'ly Ex-npf'-i-menl Im-pos'-sl-ble Dif'-fi-cult Un'Hler^moat )!f. "Are you very busy, mamma ?" said Rosamond, "Could you be so good as look at your watch once more, and tell me what o'clock it is ?" " My dear Rosamond, I liave looked at my watch for you four times within this hour. It is now exactly twelve o'clock." "Only twelve, mamma I Why I thought the hour- glass must have been wrong ; it seems a great deal mure than an hour since I turned it, an 1 Winds Cov'-er-ing Crev'-ice FJii'-i.l Nighl'-in-g.)le Gnats Bd'-Iows North '-er-ly Fu'-rv « Oii'-ward Cracks Ta '-porting Smooth '-ers Gnaws En'-^ines Tor'-renti Tears For'-est Prec'-i-pice Sol '-id As-sist'-aiii'c Wiiat is it tliat winds about over the world, Spread thin like a covering fair ? Into opch little corner and crevice 'tia curl'd j This wonderful lluid is air. In summer's still evening how peaceful it floats, When not a leaf moves on the spray ; And no sound is heard but the nightingale*« notes, x4nd merry gnats dancing away. But oft in the winter it bellows alout' And roars in the northerly blast ; With fury d/ives onward the snowy '. And cracks the tall tapering mas When fire lies and t^mothers, or gnavvt: he beam. Air forces it fiercer to glow : And engines in vain in cold tc-rents may stream, If the wind should vvitli violence blow. In the forest it tears up the sturdy old oak That many a tempest has known ; The tail mountain-pine into sj)linters is broke, And over the precipice blown. And yet, though it rages with fury so wild, On .olid earth, water, and fire ; Without its assistance the tenderest ciiild Would struggle, and gasp, and expire. Pure air, pressing into the curious clay, Gave life to these bodies at first ; And when in the bosom it ceases to play. We crumble again to cur dust. 1 z Mrs Gildlht., ^p 102 CHRIST OUK EXAMPLE. IJii-de-ni'-ed (Jn -tier-go ' Un-slii'-ning Strenglli'-en In'-no-cent Type FilM-al Guartl'-ians Coun'-ter-part 0-ver-tnke' Pat'- tern Un-mur'-mur-ing A '-gents I m '-pectus Al-lur'-ing Prov'-edat Tempt'-er Tran>scrib'-ed 11-lume' Patli^vvay Tomb Jesus ! thou wert once a child, Human all, — ye'c undefilcd ; Thoii thyself did undergo All the changes cnildren know, — Felt their sorrow, — shared their smilej— ^ Yet unsinning wert the while : — Strengthen us, O Lord ! to be Innocent in youth, hke thee. From the type, — so full of beauty, — Set by Thet of filial duty. While as yet thy guardians were Joseph's roof ami Mary's care j— Help us, Lord ! to learn the way iiarthly parents to obey :— Let thy lovely filial heart Find in us its counterpart. When, with manhood, grief and care Overtake us, where, oh where Shall we fitting pattern find How to bear the harass'd mind Where ! — iI^ Christ, who, meekness all Trod, unmurmuring, Plate's hall. Where ! — in Chnst, whose latest breath l^less'd theagenid of his death. From each impetus to sin. Born without us or within ; From the world's alluring smiles ^p rwn 103 From each ovil worii and word, O deliver us, good Lord ! Thou ! who provedbt the tempter's power Best can aid in tempted hour. Were thy life in all its parts But transcribed into our liearts, How should peace and hope illume All our pathway to the tomb ! — Life P'> more to waste should run, Earth should be as heaven begun I Would ! that thus thine image, Lord, Were in each of us restored. Original, WHAT MAKES KNOWLEDGE EXCELLI^T. ^.^ Ktling Ho^straint' An'-i-»mal Car'-ri-ag* Con'«duct'-ed Trench '-ed Ter'-tile Pro'-duc« Hoists Port Con-duct'-ed Clear'-ly Ap-pli'-ed " What an excellent thing is knowledge !" said a sharp, looking, bustling little man, to one who was much older than himself. " Knowledge is an excellent thing," ro- peated he, ** my boys know more at six and seven years old than I did at twelve. They have heard of all sorts of things, and can talk on all sorts of subjects. The world is a great deal wi^er thar« it used to be. Every Ixxly knows something of every thing now. Do you not think, sir, that knowledge is an excellent thing ?" "Why, sir," replied th? old man, locking gravely, " that depends entirely on the use to which it is applied. It may be a blessing or a curse. Knowledge is only an in- crease of power;, and power may be a bad as well as a good thing." "That is what I cannot understand," said the bustling little man. " How can powei' be a bad thing ?" 104 ! " I will tell }0u," meekly replied the old man, and tin;, went on: — " When the power of a hor^ie is under restraint, the animal is useful in bearing burdens, drawing loads, and carrying liis master ; bul wlieii the restraint is taken away, the hotee breaks his bridle, dashes the cani" age to pieces, or throws his rider." «' I see ! I see ?" said the little man. " When the water of a large pond is properly conducted by trenches, it makes the field around fertile ; but when it bursts through its banks, it sweeps every thing before it, and destroys the produce of the field." " I see ! I see !" said the little man, " I see !" " Wlien a ship is steered aright, the sail that she hoib-ts up enables her sooner to get into poit ; but if steered wrong, the more sails she carries, the further will she go out of her course." " I see ! I see-!" said the little man, *' I see clearly !" '' Well, than," continued the old man, ''if you see these things so clearly, I hope you can see too, that knowledge, to be a good thing, must be rightly applied. God's grace in tlie heart will render the knowledge of the. head a blessing ; but, without this, it may prove to us no better than a cur^^e." '« I see ! I see ! I see !" said the little man, " I see !" TODI). THE END. MONTREAL: PRlNTfiD BY ARMOPB k RAMHAY. f" SCHOOL-BOOKS. The Subscribers respectfully take leave to call the attcnlioa of School Commissiouers, Clergymen, Touchers, and others con- nected with the Education of Youth, as well as of Boolisellers, and Country Merchants, to the following works lately published by them from new stereotype plates. They have been prepared with much care, are printed in clear type, on good paper of Colonial manufacture, and are strongly bound for use in the School lloom. The prices of all the Books have lately been much reduced, so as to enable them to compete successfully with United States pub- lications, and to bring them within the reach of almost every one in the Province :— THE CANADIAN PRIMER, by Peter Parley. 1 ^d. MANSON'S PRIMER. 3d. THE FIRST READING BOOK, for the use of Schools. 2d. THE SECOND READING BOOK, for the use of Schools. 4d' THE THIRD READING BOOK, for the use of Schools ; con- tauiing Simple Piccea in Prose and Verse, 'vith numerous Exerciiea. lOd. THE ENGLISH SPELLING BOOK, by William Mavor, L. L. D., &CC. 7^(1. The plates from which the present edition has been prepared, were cast in England last year. THE AMERICAN SPELLING BOOK, containing the Rudiments of the English Language, for the use of Schools, by Noah Webster, Esq. revised impression, with the latest corrections. 7^d. THE CANADA SPELLING BOOK, with new embellishments, by Alexander Davidson, 3d edition, much improved. Is. THE ENGLISH READER, by Lindley Murray, new edition. Is. 6d. THE SHORTER CATECHISM, l^d. THE SHORTER CATECHISM, with proofs. 2id. SCHOOL-BOOKS. i A CATECHISM OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY, from the ear- licst ages to the year 1841, specially designed for the use of Schools in British America. 7^d. A CATECHISM OF THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, from its earliest period to the accession of Her present Majesty, Victoria. Vgd. AN ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR, by Lindlcy Murray. 7^d. WALKINGHAME'S SYSTEM OF ARITHMETIC, new edi- tion. 2s. The best test of the popularity of this School Book is to be found in the extensive sale which it has met with for many years past. It is now retailed at 23., substantially bound. A CATECHISM OF GEOGRAPHY. 7^d. THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR, by Lindlcy Murray. Is.Sd. The high price at which former editions were sold, alone pre- vented this standard English School Book I'rom coming into general use. The publishers having procured stereotype plates, are ena- bled to offer it, strongly half-bound, at Is. 8d.,'a price which, con- sidering the style in which it is produced, and the fact of its ex- tending to P"arly 350 pages, it will be allowed is remarkably cheap. DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, Johnson's with Walker's pronunciations. It contains also a Vocabulary of Greek, Latin, and Scripture proper names, a list of Ameri- canisms, Gallicisms, and other words to be avoided in speak- ing or writing, and Fulton and Kniglit's pronunciation of certain Scripture names, full bound. 2s. Gd. In twelve months after publication, two large editions of this Dictionary were disposed of, and the present one called for. ARMOUR & RAMSAY'S CANADIAN SCHOOL ATLAS, containing the following Maps, finely coloured : . North America ; South America ; The United States ; British Possessions in America. The Atlas may be used along with the Catechism of Geography, or wilh Ewing's, Goldsmith's, Stewart's, or any other good Text Book. A new edition, much improved, and at a reduced price, will be ready in a few months. THE CANADIAN SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY, by Thomas Ewing ; author o[i\\c Principles of Elocution, Rhetorical Eser- rises, the English Learner, a system of Geography and As- Ircnomy, and a New General Atlas. Is. 2d. in cloth ; lOd. in stiff cover. The Publisliors think themselves fortunate in having been able to The Western Hemisphere ; The Eastern Hemisphere ; Europe ', Asia ; Africa ; obtain this excellent work from the pen of tho above wclN .ZZu 7 '""^ T^^'^''- '' r' ^^^''''^y ^^""^n. at their »o ic.tation, for use in Canadian Schools, and is upon the same principle as that which rendered Mr. Ewing's larger work^o great a favorite. * ^ ° " '*' 1.. addition to their oirn publications, they have a constant supply of all the Books, m general u«e in the Schools of the Province. The KubBcribers have also always on hand, all kinds of "pancr Account Books, Quills, Wax, Wafers, Slates, &c. &c. cheap. A liberal allowance made on wholesale orders. ARMOUR & RAMSAY, Montrbal. A. H. ARMOUR & Co. Hamilton. RAMSAY, ARMOUR h Co. Kingston. heir ame I so I'ply ipcr ■(.