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What stories written by Hans Christian Andersen have you read ?

What do you know about Robinson Crusoe ?
Who wrote “Robinson Crusoe”?
Tell something about his solitary life.
Commit to memory “Somebody's Mother.”
What is the lesson to be learned from this poem ?

What do you think of the boy who helped the old lady across the street? Would you have assisted her had you been there?

Who wrote “A Good Samaritan”?
Why called a Samaritan?

In the poem, “Somebody's Mother,” we learn of a boy who loves and respects his own mother, and the mother of others. He is kind and brave, polite and thoughtful. The boy mentioned in “A Good Samaritan” was also a noble boy who strove to relieve suffering.

What would you have done if you had been near the poor, thirsty sheep?

Who was Charles Dickens ?
What has he told about Alfred the Great ?
Why did Alfred learn to read ?
Tell the story of how he cooked the cakes?

What is said about the honesty of the people when he was king of England ?

Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds. — Congreve.

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“Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and stately in the valley! I a light canoe will build me, Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing, That shall float upon the river, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily!

“Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree! Lay aside your white-skin wrapper, For the summer time is coming, And the sun is warm in heaven, And you need no white-skin wrapper!”

he sun is watime is comitapper,

Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
In the solitary forest,
By the rushing Taquamenaw,
When the birds were singing gayly,
In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
And the sun, from sleep awaking,
Started up and said, “Behold me!
Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me!”

And the tree with all its branches Rustled in the breeze of morning,

Saying, with a sigh of patience, “Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!”

With his knife the tree he girdled;
Just beneath its lowest branches,
Just above the roots he cut it,
Till the sap came oozing outward;
Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
With a wooden wedge he raised it,
Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.

“Give me of your boughs, O Cedar! Of your strong and pliant branches, My canoe to make more steady, Make more strong and firm beneath me!”

Through the summit of the Cedar Went a sound, a cry of horror, Went a murmur of resistance;

But it whispered, bending downward, “Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!”

Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,
Shaped them straightway to a framework,
Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
Like two bended bows together.

Give me of your roots, O Tamarack! Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Tree! My canoe to bind together, So to bind the ends together That the water may not enter, That the river may not wet me!”

And the Larch, with all its fibres,
Shivered in the air of morning,
Touched his forehead with its tassels,
Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
"Take them all, O Hiawatha!”

From the earth he tore the fibres, · Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree,

Closely sewed the bark together,
Bound it closely to the framework.

“Give me of your balm, O Fir-Tree! Of your balsam and your resin, So to close the seams together That the water may not enter, That the river may not wet me!”

And the Fir-Tree, tall and sombre, Sobbed through all its robes of darkness, Rattled like a shore with pebbles,

Answered wailing, answered weeping, “Take my balm, 0 Hiawatha!”

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