he do'-ing? He has a forge: he blows the fire with a great pair of bel'-lows, to make the iron hot. Now, it is hot. Now, he takes it out with the tongs, and puts it upon the an'-vil. Now he beats it with a hammer. How hard he works! the sparks fly a-bout'; pret'-ty bright sparks! What is the black'smith making? He is making nails and horse shoes, and a great many things.

Steel is made of iron. Steel is very bright, and sharp, and hard. Knives and scis'-șors are made of steel.

EXERCISES.-What things are made of iron? Will iron melt in the fire? What does the blacksmith blow the fire with? What was the blacksmith making? Of what is steel made? What are knives and scissors made of?

LEAD, TIN, AND QUICKSILVER.

Lead is soft and very heavy. Here is a piece': lift it. There is lead in the case'-ment; and the spout is lead, and the cis'-tern is lead, and bul ́-lets are made of lead. Will lead melt in the fire? Try: put some in the shovel: hold it o'-ver the fire. Now it is all melt'-ed. Pour it into this basin of water. How it hiss'-es! What pretty things it has made !

Tin is white and soft. It is bright too. The drip'-ping pan, and the re-flec'-tor, are all cov'-ered with tin.

Quick'-sil-ver is very bright, like silver; and it is very heavy. See how it runs about! You cannot catch it. You cannot pick it up. There is quick

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silver in the ba-rom'-e-ter. Gold, silver, copper, iron, lead, tin, quicksilver. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven met'-als. They are all dug out of the ground.

There are oth'-er met'-als be-sides' these, but they are not so much in use; and some of them are procured' with great dif'-fi-cul-ty. The num'-ber of met'als is gen'-er-al-ly al-lowed to be for'-ty one; but I need not tell you their names, as you nev'-er saw any of them how-ev'-er, when you are old-er you must learn their names and uses.

EXERCISES.-What things are made of lead? Will lead melt in the fire? Of what colour is tin? What is quicksilver like? Where are all these metals found? What is the number of metals?

EXCEPTIONS.

Foun'-tain cov'-ert view -ing balm'-y shep'-herds pur-suit' George guess an'-swered per-suade' pleas'ure waist-coat built Broad-bill un'-cle stron'-ger pushed a-broad' sin'-gle.

THE YOUNG STAG.

A young stag once lived in a dell by the side of a foun'-tain, un'-der the cov'-ert of some for'-est trees; he passed his days in ease and plen'-ty, repo'-sing on the green turf, crop'-ping the flow'-ers that grew on the bor'-ders of the foun'-tain, or in viewing his own shad'-ōw re-flect'-ed on its sur'-face: but Fleet'-foot, for thus was the young stag called, at

length be-came' wea'-ry of the qui'-et life he led, and longed for a change of scene.

One fine spring mor-ning he roused him-self' from the dew'-y grass, and look'-ing round him, said, How bright the sun shines! the air is soft and balm'-y; I will leave these si'-lent woods, and viṣ'-it the plains and yon'-der ver'-dant mead'-ōws. Say'ing this, he left his se-cure' and pleas'-ant re-treat' in the dell, and walked forth into the open fields. There he saw the shep'-herds fold-ing their flocks on the hills, and the mōw'-ers cut'-ting down the green grass in the meadows: he stopped to listen to the song of the milk'-maid, and the chime of the bells from the stee'-ple of the dis'-tant vil'-lagechurch. These sounds and sights were all new to the young stag, who had passed his life in the deep re-cess'-es of the for'-est; and as he bound'-ed with light and joy'-ous steps o'-ver the lev ́-el plains, he said, I will re-turn' no more to the gloom'-y for'-est, but dwell here in these pleas'-ant plains and fruit'-ful fields.

But if his for-mer a-bode' was less pleas'-ing it was much more se-cure': and thought'-less Fleet'foot had soon reason to re-gret' hav'-ing been tempt'ed to quit his quiet home in the sha'-dy dell; for one day, as he was care'-less-ly re-po'-sing by the bank of a riv'-er, the sound of a hunt'-er's bu'-gle rang in his ear-scarce'-ly had he time to raise him-self'

on his feet, when a pack of hounds, and a hunts'man mount'-ed on a fleet horse, came in view.

The frightened stag fled swift'-ly o'-ver hill and dale, fol-lowed by the noi'-sy pack, in full cry, close be-hind him. Twice that day did the stag plunge into the stream and swim bold'-ly over, think'-ing to baf-fle the pur-suit; but in vain the hounds, cheered by the shouts of the hunts'-man, like'-wise crossed the riv'-er: and now they gained near-er and near-er on his faint-ing steps, and the hunt'-er thought the prize se-cure'; but Fleet'-foot, col-lect'ing all his re-main'-ing strength, in-creased' his former speed, and leav'-ing the dis-ap-point'-ed hounds and hunter far be-hind', he reached the friend'-ly shade of the for-est, and, pant'-ing and breath'less, glad-ly laid him-self' down once more by the side of the foun'-tain.

From that time he nev'-er left his na'-tive dell, but, con-tent'-ed with his lot, passed the re-main'-der of his days in peace and hap'-pi-ness.

EXERCISES.-Where did the young stag live? How did he pass his days? What was his name? morning? Whither did he go? reason to regret quitting his home? a river what sound did he hear? did the frightened stag do? Did he escape from his pursuers? How did he pass the rest of his days?

What did he say one fine spring What did he see there Had he While reposing by the bank of What soon came in view? What

LITTLE GEORGE AND THE ROBIN.

One day, lit'-tle George came run'-ning to his moth'-er, and said, Guess, mother, what I have in my bo'-som. Dear child, said his mother, how shall

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I be a'-ble to do that? But she tried to guess, because she thought it would please her son. When

George found that his mother could not guess, he opened his bo'-som a lit'-tle that she might peep in.

Where did you get that pret'-ty robin? asked the mother. George told her, the rob' -in had been caught in a trap, by one of its legs; that he had seen it flut'-ter-ing and try'-ing to get loose; and that he went and took it ver'-y gent'-ly, and that he had taken great care not to hurt it. Oh, how frightened the poor lit'-tle thing must have been, when it was caught; and how painful its lit'-tle foot must have been, all the time that it was held in the trap, said the mother.

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I went and took it out the mo'-ment it was caught, an'-swered George. What will you do with the poor lit'-tle bird? asked his mother, with a sor'-rōw-ful face. Noth'-ing, answered George I will only some'-times catch it, and feel its soft feath'-ers. It shall fly a-bout' the room; and I will put a sau'-cer with wa'-ter, and a little box with seeds for it, that it may eat and drink. Will not that be pret'-ty, mother?

George's mother did not think it would be pret'-ty to take a poor lit'-tle bird and keep it in a room; but she al'-ways tried to per-suade her little son to do what was right; and he was so good a boy that he hard'-ly ev'-er want'-ed to be forced to any thing. She did not, there'-fore, take away the robin and let