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How pleasant to sit by the warm glowing fire,
So calm and so sweet, with kind faces around;
Whilst the sharp cold increases, the wind rises higher;
I need not care for it, I hear but the sound.

Oh let me reflect, and just think for a minute;
Perhaps, while I'm seated so happily here,

And free from the storm, some poor creatures are in it,
And perished with cold, or astounded with fear.

Let me learn in my breast kindly feelings to nourish,
And, what is still better, kind actions to do;
It is the best way to make happiness flourish,
To do good to others, and feel for them too.

Well is it for those unto whom God has given
Abundance on earth, wealthy silver and gold,
Around them to spread the kind bounties of heaven,
And succour the poor, the distress'd and the old.
Wilderspin's Manual.

THE MINERAL KINGDOM.

The solid earth sometimes ascends
In mountains wild and high,
With pointed peaks and rocky sides,
Where snows for ever lie.

Sometimes it forms most lovely vales,
The verdant hills between ;

With wide and level plains, o'er which
Are winding rivers seen.

Beneath its surface miners find

Coals, metals, slate, and stones,
To make us fires, to form our tools,
And roof and build our homes.

Some things they get are rich and rare,
As silver, diamonds, gold;

With colour'd marbles, crystals, gems,
Most lovely to behold.

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If truly we loved God, our love
Would surely thus be shown,
That we should be most kind to them,
Because they are His own.

T. J. Terrington.

TREES.

The oak is called the king of trees;
The aspen quivers in the breeze;
The poplar grows up straight and tall;
The peach-tree spreads along the wall;
The sycamore gives pleasant shade;
The willow droops in watery glade;
The fir-tree useful timber gives;
The beech amid the forest lives.

From "Pretty Lessons," by S. Coleridge.

THE BEES.

Soon as ruddy morning
Streaks the eastern sky,
From the hive outpouring

See the brown bees fly.

Fly away, pretty bees, fly away,
Fly away.

They don't wait to chatter;

Little time for fun;

But away they scatter;

Work is to be done.

Fly away, &c.

With their bags all loaded,
And their baskets full,
On the homeward road, it
Seems a heavy pull,

Fly away, &c.

Once more safely landed,

Glad to be at home;

None comes empty handed,

But the idle drone.

Fly away, &c.

Now a little rested,
Off they are again;

Hours must not be wasted,
Nor days spent in vain,

THE HORSE.

Come, children, let us now discourse
About the pretty, noble horse;
And then you soon will plainly see
How very useful he must be.

He draws the coach so fine and smart,
And likewise drags the loaded cart,
Along the road, or up the hill;
Though then his task is harder still.

Upon his back men ride with ease;
He carries them just where they please;
And though it should be many a mile,
He gets them there in a little while.

With saddle on his back, they sit,
And manage him with rein and bit;
The whip and spur they use also,
When they would have him faster go.

And be the weather cold or hot,
As they may please, he'll walk or trot;
But if to make more haste have need,
He'll gallop with the greatest speed.

'When dead, his shining skin they use
As leather for our boots and shoes;
When live or dead, then, thus we see
How useful still the horse must be.

Wilderspin's Infant System.

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