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cause it is the flag of our own country and not on account of its color or shape.
Mary. — There is a little girl in our neighborhood who thinks the Russian flag is more beautiful than ours. It is not necessary to say that she came from Russia.
Robert. – I think the Boston boys did just right when they complained to General Gage about his soldiers. They ought to have remembered when they were boys and liked to coast in winter.
Lizzie. — Some men act as if they had never been · young. They must have been gloomy little boys who loved work more than play.
Robert. — Who ever heard of a boy who loved work more than play? The British soldiers destroyed the snow hills to annoy the American boys. General Gage took the part of the boys when he heard how the soldiers had been treating them. We read in our history that from the mere love of tantalizing the boys, the British soldiers destroyed their snow hills.
Teacher: — Your time is up; you must postpone your conversation until another day.
Pride is as loud a beggar as Want and a great deal more saucy. When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece. It is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it. — Franklin.
INDIAN MOTHER'S LULLABY.
Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, little papoose,
The stars come into the sky,
The river runs murmuring by.
The pine trees are slumbering, little papoose,
The squirrel has gone to his nest,
The little ones warm with her breast.
The roebuck is dreaming, my little papoose,
His mate lies asleep at his side,
All over the prairie so wide.
Then hush-a-by, rock-a-by, little papoose,
You sail on the river of dreams;
Till time when the morning light gleams.
Man'i tou : the Indian name for the Good Spirit or the Guardian Spirit. Pa poose': a young child, or baby, of Indian parentage in North America. Rõg'bůck: a small deer, usually found in Europe and Asia in the mountains.
There is no such word as Fail. — Shakespeare.
THE FOUR SUNBEAMS.
Four little sunbeams came earthward one day,
Resolved that their course should be blest. “Let us try,” they all whispered, “some kindness to do, .. Not seek our own happiness all the day through,
Then meet in the eve in the west.”
One sunbeam ran in at a low cottage door,
Till baby laughed loud in his glee,
That ever before him would flee.
One crept to a couch where an invalid lay,
Its bird-song and beauty and bloom;
Far away from the dim, darkened room.
One stole to the heart of a flower that was sad,
And lifted her white face again;
And lightens all labor and pain.
Not sharinds that we eves that beautiful ligh
And one, where a little blind girl sat alone,
On hands that were folded and pale,
Till angels had lifted the veil.
At last, when the shadows of evening were falling,
Four sunbeams passed into the west.
Then softly they sank to their rest.
Dance to the beat of the rain, little Fern,
And say, “Tho' the sun
Hath my vesture spun,
But for the shade
That the Cloud hath made,
Then laugh and upturn
All your fronds, little Fern,
– Rev. John B. Tabb.