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› THE NAUGHTY GIRL.

Fan-ny Cherry-cheek was sitting at din'-ner with her father and moth'-er, and her broth'-er Charles. Give me some bread, said she. My dear, said her mother, that is not the way to ob-tain' what you want; you should add, if you please, and you would have it in'-stant-ly; but Fan'-ny pout'-ed, and her moth'-er sent her from the ta'-ble; so she went to the bow'-er in the garden and be-gan' to cry. Af-ter din'-ner, her broth'-er Charles, in-stĕad' of eat'-ing his share of fruit, car'-ried a peach to his sis'-ter, and then led her back to the room, where she prom'-ised her moth'-er ney'-er to be-have' so ill a-gain'.

EXERCISES.-What was Fanny Cherry-cheek doing? What did she say? What did her mother answer? What did Fanny then do, and where did she go? What did her brother Charles do? What did she promise to her mother?

THE BOYS AND THE BLIND BEGGAR.

I will tell you a sto'-ry a-bout two lit'-tle boys, Sam and Har-ry. One fine sum'-mer day, Sam was walk'-ing home from school, o'-ver the fields. He saun'-tered slow'-ly a-long', for it was ver'-y pleas'-ant, and he was read'-ing in a pret'-ty sto'-ry book, which he had just bought with his week's mon'-ey, and some'-times he lay down un'-der a tree and read, and the birds sung o'-ver his head, and he was a happy lit'-tle boy. Well, at length, he got o'-ver a stile and came in'-to the high road, and there was a gate a-cross the road, and a blind beg'

gar stood hold'-ing the gate open, and said, Pray be-stōw' a half'-pen-ny. But Sam gave him noth-ing. What! did Sam give the poor blind beg'-gar noth'ing? No, be-cause' he had noth'-ing to give; for, as I told you, he had spent his mon'-ey. So he walked through, and looked rath'-er sor'-ry. And in a min'-ute or two af'-ter-wards, a smart cur'-ri-cle came dri'-ving down to the gate, and Har'-ry and his mam-ma' were in it. And the blind man stood and held his hat. Let us give the poor blind man some'-thing said Har'-ry im-me'-di-ate-ly to his mam-ma'. So his mam-ma' gave him some half'pence which she had just re-ceived' from the last turn'-pike man. And Har'-ry took them ea'-ger-ly, but in-stead of put'-ting them in'-to the poor man's hat which he held for them, he threw the whole of them, as far as he could scat'-ter them, in'-to the hedge. The poor man could not find them there, you know, and seemed ver'-y dis-con-tent'-ed; but Sam, who had turned his head to look at the fine cur'-ri-cle, saw Har'-ry fling the half-pence, and came back, and looked for them in the hedge, and in the grass, and all about', till, one by one, he had found all the half-pence; and be-sides the troublé he had, it took him so much time that he al'-most lost his din'-ner by com'-ing too late.

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Now, pray, which do you think was most kind to the poor blind man, Har-ry or Sam? I know ver'-y well which he thanked most in his heart.

EXERCISES. Whither was Sam walking? What was he reading? Who stood holding the gate open? What did the beggar say? Did Sam give him anything? Who were in the curricle that came driving down to the gate? What did Harry say to his mamma ? What did he do with the halfpence? What kind action did Sam do to the blind beggar? Which do you think was most kind to the poor man?

EXCEPTIONS.

Touched col'-our ought an-oth'-er beau'-ti-ful bo’som a-mong' lose brought nei'-ther chirped moved stir often to-geth'-er talk climbed hun'-ger re-prov'ing evil peo'-ple whom work pa'-tience.

THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER KITTEN.

There was a lit'-tle girl who loved ver'-y dear'-ly to run through the mead'-ōws and watch the but'ter-flies, that she saw fly'-ing a-bout', or rest'-ing on the bright gay flow'-ers in the hed'-ges. But she al'-ways found that as soon as she touched them, their wings lost all their pret'-ty col'-our, and were some'times even rent and broken if she held them ev-er so gent'-ly. She was, as she ought to have been, so vexed at this, that she de-ter'-mined to catch no more but'-ter-flies, but to be con-tent' with see'-ing them skim from one flow'-er to an-oth'-er, and to stand and look at them while they opened and shut their beau'-ti-ful wings in the sun. But though but'-ter-flies' wings could be so soon broken and spoiled, birds' wings, she thought, could not; and it would be a great deal bet/-ter, she said to her-self', to have pret'-ty young birds in her hand that might be

touched with-out' harm, and would in time sing to her, than the gay'-est but'-ter-flies that were ev-er

seen.

And so she prevailed' on some one to get her a nest full of young lin'-nets, out of a thick hedge, which she took and put a-gainst' her boʻ-ṣom, and then fed them, till she thought they would be much hap'-pi-er with her than they were a-mong the branch'-es and leaves of the trees. But when the old bird flew back, af-ter she had been seek'-ing food for her young, and found her nest gone, she made such a sad twit-ter-ing that the lit'-tle girl felt ver'-y sor'-ry, and be-gan' to think, that though the young ones might be glad to have such a nice warm bed as she made them in a lit-tle cage, their moth'-er must be very grieved to lose them, and so she went to bed not near so glad at having the young birds as she was at first.

When she got up in the mor'-ning she went to look at them, and car-ry them some food, and she thought, per-haps the old bird has for-got them by this time; but it was no such thing, for she was fly'-ing back'-wards and for'-wards be-fore' the win'dōw where the cage stood, and would have come quite near had not some one fright-ed her. When she put her hands into the cage with the crumbs of bread she had brought, she hoped the lit'-tle lin'-nets would put up their beaks, and shake their wings, and take the food. But they nei'-ther chirped nor

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moved, and she was ver-y vexed, and touched them with her hand a-gain' and a-gain' to make them stir, but they would not; and then she thought she would take them out, and so she did, and they were all dead.

When she saw this she cried, and found she had been very cru'-el, and said she would nev'-er take poor lit'-tle birds a-gain' from their moth'-er. But af'-ter a few days she was a-gain' wish'-ing to have some-thing to play with, and to make fond of; and she was so luck'-y as to find a num'-ber of lit'-tle kittens which an old cat was bring'-ing up in a cor'ner by the kitch'-en fire. So she begged her mamma' to let her have one, which she did, and she ran im-me'-di-ate-ly and took the see, and went a-way' with it.

pret/-ti-est she could But she had not long moth'-er came afʼ-ter

had it in her arms when the her, and mew'-ing and look'-ing up at her, seemed to beg that she would set it down and let it go back in'-to the kitch'-en. And the good lit'-tle girl remem'-bered the poor birds, and would not for the world be so cru'-el a-gain'; and she let the kitten go, but was soon af'-ter re-ward'-ed by find'-ing it grown ver'-y strong, and that it was read'-y of its ōwn ac-cord' to leave the old cat, and so she had it a-gain', and a nice lit'-tle thing it was all its life.

EXERCISES.-What did the little girl love to do? What happened to the butterflies when she touched them? What did she determine to do? What did she again wish to have? What did she prevail on some one to get her? What did the old bird do when she

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