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The boy agreed, and the old farmer kept him so strictly to his promise that he made him "pull fodder " for the cattle three days, as payment for the book! And that is the way that Abraham Lincoln bought his first book. For he dried the copy of Weems's "Life of Washington" and put it in his "library." But what boy or girl of to-day would like to buy books at such a price?

This was the boy-life of Abraham Lincoln. It was a life of poverty, privation, hard work, little play and less money. The boy did not love work. But he worked. His father was rough and often harsh and hard to him, and whatever Abraham learned was by making the most of his spare time.

-ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.

bully: one who threatens those weaker than himself.-sal'low: of a yellowish color.-lin'sey-wool'sey: cloth made of linen and wool mixed. —humanʼity: mankind, the human race.―ciphering (sĩ' fĕr-ing).—doing examples in arithmetic.-pull fodder: pull off the leaves or blades from cornstalks for food or fodder.-prīvā'tion: need.

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS

The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame.

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free.

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared: This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst the pilgrim band;

Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,

Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod;

They have left unstained what there they found,
Freedom to worship God!

-FELICIA HEMANS.

ex'īles: people who have had to leave their native country.—hoarʼy: white with age.-spoils: things taken by force.-shrine: a sacred place.

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THE PUNISHMENT OF ARACHNE

In an ancient city of Greece, there lived a young girl named Arachne, whose parents had once been very poor and humble. Arachne, however, brought wealth and comfort into their little cottage, through her great skill in spinning and embroidering.

Such beautiful things did she fashion with her wool, and so graceful did she look as she worked with her spindle, that great lords and ladies came from every part of the land to see her at her work. Her name was famous throughout Greece, and princes and merchants paid her great prices for her wonderful embroidery.

So, as I said, wealth and comfort took the place of poverty in Arachne's home, and the parents blessed their daughter, and all of them lived very happily. Thus it might have gone on until they died, had not Arachne's head been turned by the praises that were showered upon her from all sides.

She became so vain about her work that she could think of nothing but how wonderful she was. One day she boasted that, though she was only a humble girl, she was far more skillful than the goddess Minerva. Minerva was the goddess of wisdom and of war; but in her spare moments she amused herself by doing just such work as had made Arachne fa

mous, embroidery in wool, or tapestry, as it was called.

Now there was no fault that displeased the gods more than conceit; so when Minerva heard of the girl's bold speech, she was much astonished, and thought she would visit Arachne to see what she meant by her boast.

Accordingly, she took the form of an old, grayhaired woman, and, leaning on her staff, as though too feeble to stand up straight, she came into the little room where Arachne sat spinning. She joined the circle that surrounded the maiden at her work, and listened to the girl's boastful claim that she could outdo Minerva herself in skill.

Then the old woman spoke: "My daughter," she said, laying her hand on Arachne's shoulder, "listen to the advice of an old woman who has had much experience in life. Be content to rule as queen of your art among women, but do not compare yourself with the gods. Ask pardon for the foolish words you have just spoken. I promise you that Minerva will grant it."

But the young girl only looked cross and ugly, as she answered in a very churlish tone, "You are an old woman and you speak like one. Let Minerva come and try her skill with mine, and I will prove my words. She is afraid of the test, or else why does she not come?" Then Minerva dropped her staff and cried, "Lo! she is come!" and she took on her true shape and

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