man has failed," and I know it is something bad; but what is it? Mother. It is when a man owes more money than he can pay, and gives up all his property to be divided among his creditors. Charles. And is that what has happened to father? And will he give up every thing he has in the world? That is very bad. Mother. Certainly. He would not willingly have any man lose a cent of money on his account. Would you wish that he should wrong those who have trusted him? Charles. O no! I should rather study from morning till night, if that would do any good. Mother. You perceive, Charles, that it will be necessary for you to discipline your mind into right habits of attention, for you will have to support yourself, at least. It is even possible that your parents, in their old age, may require some assistance from you. Your father can hardly hope to acquire even a moderate fortune again, before he will be an old man. Charles. O mother! it makes my heart ache to think of all this; for I do not seem to understand yet that it is really so, though I try with all my might to -to Mother. Realize it? And Charles. Yes, that is the word I was after. what did you do, when father told you about it, mother? Did you not cry? Mother. I did, when I was alone, Charles; for I have lived in this house ever since I was married, and I love it; and I love the furniture, which my parents gave me. But it must all be sold. Charles. Why, where shall we live ? Mother. In a small house at the south end, where your nurse used to live. But I shed more tears at first about you and Ellen. We cannot afford to educate you as we intended. Charles. And there I was complaining this very morning about having to study! Mother. Your thoughtless words made my heart ache, Charles. Charles. If I have to get my living, why cannot I be a lawyer? Mother. Your father cannot send you to college: your studies must all be directed towards preparing you to enter a counting-room as soon as possible. Your father's mercantile friends respect him for striving to pay all his debts, and they will help you. But, Charles, you will find it necessary to give your most earnest attention to your new pursuits. Charles. That I will, mother. I will find out how cousin Richard manages his mind. Attention! yes, indeed I will. I shall think of nothing now but what I ought. I shall never waste my time again. Mother. You promise confidently, Charles; and, in truth, I shall shed fewer tears, if I find this change in our situation may benefit my beloved son's character. It was too plain that the expectation of a fortune from your father was injuring you. Wipe your eyes, Charles, and go to school; and I think you will find that study-real study will make difficult things soon become easy; and there will be a pleasure in it you have never known, while holding your book indolently, with a wandering mind. John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Note to Teachers. The above table is designed for an exercise upon the vowel sounds. Let the class utter them in concert, thus á, â, â, â; è, ẻ, &c. - The words are placed opposite the letters merely to denote their sounds. This is a useful exercise, and should be often repeated. "To-morrow is our wedding-day, "My sister and my sister's child Myself and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we." He soon replied, "I do admire, "I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend, the calender. Will lend his horse to go." Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; We will be furnished with our own, John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, The morning came; the chaise was brought, But yet was not allowed To drive up to the door, lest all So three doors off the chaise was stayed, Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin! Smack went the whip, round went the wheels; The stones did rattle underneath, John Gilpin, at his horse's side, Seized fast the flowing mane; And up he got, in haste to ride, } But soon came down again; For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, When, turning round his head, he saw So down he came; for loss of time, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, |