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Sil-ver is white and shi-ning. The spoons are sil-ver; and the wait-er is sil-ver; and crowns, and half-crowns, and shil-lings, and six-pen-ces, are made of sil-ver. Silver comes from a great way off too.

Quick-sil-ver is very bright like sil-ver; and it is very heav-y. See how it runs a-bout ! You can-not catch it. You can-not pick it up. There is quick-sil-ver in the ba-rom-e-ter.-Mrs. Barbauld.



“A-venge not your-selves, but rath-er give place un-to wrath.” At a school in Si-er-ra Le-one, West Af-ri-ca, a lit-tle girl one day struck her school-fel-low. The teach-er found this out, and asked the child who was struck:

“Did not you strike her in re-turn?”
“ No, ma'am," said the child.
“What did you do?" asked the teach-er..
I LEFT HER TO God," said she.

This is a beau-ti-ful and safe way to set-tle all disputes, and pre-vent all fights, a-mong chil-dren and 8-mong men. We shall sel-dom be struck by oth-ers when they know that we love them, and that we shall not re-turn the blow, but “leare them to God." Then, what-ev-er our en-e-mies do, or threat-en to do to us, let us leave them to God, pray-ing that he would for-give them and make them our friends.-H. C. Wright.


In a vis-it to the A-sy-lum, I said to one of the boys:"Jo-seph, what made you an-gry?" “Pe-ter pinched me."

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“What did you then do to him? “I thumped him." “Did it do you any good to thump him ?" “Yes, Sir, for a little while." “Why did you thump him?" “Be-cause he pinched me, and that made me an-gry.”

“Then you thumped him mere-ly to please your an-ger?”

“ Yes, Sir."

“After you thumped him, and af-ter your an-ger had all gone out of you, how did you feel ?"

“I wished I had not thumped him quite so hard." “Why?" " I should not have been so sor-ry." “Why did you feel sor-ry at all?" “ Be-cause I was a-fraid I thumped him too hard." “What if you did ? Why should that make you

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• Be-cause I was a-fraid that I had hurt him more than he hurt me.”

“ The next time, then, that any one pinch-es you I hope you will not strike him. Then you will not be sor-ry.


you will not be a-fraid you have hurt him more than he hurt you; for you will not hurt him at all. It will save you a great many sad feel-ings, and pre-vent oth-ers from pinch-ing you."-H. C. Wright.


The ti-ger makes his lair in the thick for-ests, by the banks of the Gan-ges.

The cam-el-o-pard stalks over the vast plains of Af-ri-ca; he lifts his long neck, and brows-es the trees as he walks.

The os-trich rurs swift-ly over the burn-ing sands of the des-ert.

The rhi-noc-e-ros loves to wal-low and roll him-self in the wet mud, by the banks of large riv-ers, and in wet marsh-es.

The cha-mois of Switz-er-land would pine if he could not snuff the keen air of the moun-tains.

The lit-tle er-mine runs a-bout in the fro-zen des-erts of Si-be-ri-a; she is white like the snow that is marked by her lit-tle feet.

The hum-ming-bird of Ja-mai-ca could not live in our woods; a fros-ty night would kill it di-rect-ly.

The rein-deer lives in Lap-land; he scrapes a-way the snow with his feet to get a lit-tle moss, which he lives up-on; he would die if you were to ex-pose him to the warm sun of Per-sia or Hin-dos-tan.

Wild geese, and wild ducks, and plov-ers, live in fens and marsh-es.

Man can live ev-er-y where; in cold Nor-way or Lapland, in hot Guin-ea or Per-sia; in hil-ly coun-tries, or marsh-y plains; he can bear as much heat as the os-trich, and as much cold as the rein-deer. Mrs. Barbauld.

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What if the lit-tle rain should say,

“So small a drop as I
Can ne'er re-fresh those thirst-y fields,

I'll tar-ry in the sky!"
What if a shi-ning beam of noon

Should in its foun-tain stay,
Be-cause its fee-ble light a-lone

Can-not cre-ate a day?

Doth not each rain-drop help to form

The cool, re-fresh-ing shower,
And ev-er-y ray of light to warm

And beau-ti-fy the flower?


I-ron is ver-y hard. It is not pret-ty, but I do not know what we should do with-out it, for it makes us a great man-y things. Go and ask the cook wheth-er she can roast her meat with-out a spit. Well, what does she say? She says she can-not. But the spit is made of i-ron; and so are the tongs, and the po-ker and shov-el. Go and ask Dob-bin if he can plough with-out the plough-share. Well, what does he say? He says no, he can-not. But the plough-share is made of i-ron. Will i-ron melt in the fire? Put the po-ker in and try. Well, is it melt-ed ? No: but it is red-hot and soft; it will bend. But I will tell you, Charles ; i-ron will melt in a ver-y, ver-y hot fire; when it has been in a great while, then it will melt. Come, let us go to the smith's shop. What is he do-ing? He has a forge: he blows the fire with a great pair of bel-lows to make the i-ron hot. Now he takes it out with the tongs, and puts it up-on the an-vil. Now he beats it with a ham-mer. How hard he works! The sparks fly a-bout; pret-ty bright sparks. What is the black-smith ma-king ? He is ma-king nails, and horse-shoes, and a great man-y things.

Steel is made of i-ron. Steel is ver-y bright, and sharp, and hard. Knives and scis-sors are made of steel.--Mrs. Barbauld.


This large place we live in is called the world.

It is very beau-ti-ful. If we look up we see the blue sky, if we look down we see the green grass; the sky is like a cur-tain spread over our heads, the grass like a car-pet un-der our feet, and the bright sun like a can-dle to give us light. It was ver-y kind of God to make such a beau-ti-ful world, and let us live in it.

God was in heaven, and all his bright an-gels a-round him, when he began to make the world.

God's Son was with him—for God al-ways had a Son, just like him-self. His Son's name is Je-sus Christ. He is as good and great as God his Fath-er. The Fath-er and the Son are one God, and they made the world.

How did God make the world? By speak-ing. First of all, God made the light. God said, “ Let there be light," and there was light. No one can make things by speak-ing but God; God made things of noth-ing. He on-ly spoke, and the light came.—"Peep of Day.'




What o'clock is it, Charles ? It is twelve o'clock. It is noon. Come in the gar-den, then. Now where is the sun ? Turn your

face to-wards him, Look at the sun; that is south. Al-ways when it is twelve o'clock, and you look at the sun, your face is to-wards the south, Now turn to your left hand. Look for-wards; that is east. In the morn-ing, when it is go-ing to be light, you must look just there, and pres-ent-ly you will see the sun get up. Al-ways in the morn-ing look there for the sun; for the sun ri-ses in the east. Now turn your

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