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LITTLE Charles had been playing very pleasantly all the evening. He had had one or two little friends with him. They had played loto, and domino, and cards, and human life.
Charles could not believe his mother, when, after his friends had gone home, she told him It was past eight o'clock, and time for him to
go to bed.
At first he said he was sure it could not be eight yet; but his mother showed him her watch, and there it was, sure enough. Then he said he did not feel sleepy; but while he was trying to say this, he gaped so hard, that he could hardly shut his mouth again.
Even after he got up stairs, and got undressed, he thought he was not tired, and stood with his night dress on, leaning against the side of his bed, and wondering why his mother could not have let him sit up a little longer.
“ Peep, peep, peep,” came to him from the other side of the room; and, looking over toward the fireplace, he saw a little bird perched upon the fender.
“What a silly boy you are,” said the bird, « to think you know better than your mother! I pity you, for I have been just as silly, and now I am suffering for it.
To-night, just before sunset, my mother called to my brothers and myself, and told us to leave off our play, and come home to the nest. My brothers minded her; but I thought I knew better than she did, and that it was
not quite bed time, and that I could take one more fly round the garden. I flew off, and stopped now and then to rest myself, till, before I thought of it, the sun was gone ; it began to grow dark, and I could not find my
I saw the window of your room open, and flew in here, where I shall stay till the morning comes, and I can see my way back; but I should much rather be at home in my mother's warm nest, and I know she will feel uneasy at having me gone all night. I shall take care to mind her better another time.”
The boy was much astonished at sight of the bird, and at what he said. He began to feel very sleepy, and jumped into bed; and the next morning, he was almost inclined to think that the whole was a dream, for there was no bird there. The window had been left open, and if there had been one, he was gone; but then the boy thought that, whether it was a dream-bird, or a real bird, he had spoken wisely, and that he should try to remember what he had thought he heard him say, and mind his mother always, and go cheerfully to bed whenever he was told that it was time.
HISTORY OF A
RELATED BY ITSELF.
A PERSON who writes his own history, labors under many disadvantages. He is tempted to conceal his own weaknesses, and at the same time to exaggerate his own merits. But I flatter myself that my readers will do me the justice to believe, that, while I strive to relate to them nothing but the truth, if I should fall into some errors, it is not from any bad intention, but only from accident, which is liable to befall the wisest.
I began my life with the best hopes, and the most pleasing prospects, for I had a most excellent head, and all the other qualities necessary to make me useful in the world.
My first owner was Mrs. Dormer, a most amiable lady, who employed me about her own person. She did not spend much of her time, however, in unnecessary dressings, but devoted the most important part of it to the education of her children; and in this duty I often assisted her, for though I cannot boast of much learning, yet I thought myself a very proper instrument to point out to them the beauties of our language.
Mary and Jane Dormer were nice little girls. The eldest was very amiable, industrious, and obedient; she paid the greatest attention to her studies. Miss Jane was sometimes a little obstinate ; but her patient and sensible mother did not despair of her, since she was only three years old at the time I first became acquainted with her. One fine morning, after Mary had finished all her lessons in the manner most agreeable to her mamma, Miss Jane was called on to take her turn, and it was my lot to assist at the lesson. Mrs. Dormer began by saying, “great A," and I found my glittering point — for I was then as bright as silver placed directly underneath the letter. Jane did not feel like reading, and would not open her mouth. I showed her another A; he mother called its name, but she looked a us both with a bold air, and would not ope her lips.
I was puzzled what to think of the matter; but Mrs. Dormer laid down the book, and, taking the little girl by the hand, walked qui