stove, as the wind rattles the doors and windows.

Mrs. Lee has not all her dear ones with her to-night. She is thinking of her sailor-boy, who is out on the wild sea.

Every time the angry wind shakes her door and rattles her door-latch, she starts up thinking her boy may be coming home, while her heart grows heavy, and her cheek, white with fear.

Ah! Can she see a noble ship tossing about upon the black waters, and tugging at its anchor?

Is that her boy with numb fingers clinging to the frozen ropes ?

A ship in distress! Sound the guns out over the wild waters!

O, will no one go to the rescue ?
Poor boy! Poor, poor mother!

Over the way, there is a bright light at the window. Ah, yes! I know. The fisherman's wife lives there.

O, little Nellie, can it be that the poor fisherman, who brought us who brought us this very morning our nice breakfast of fish, is out to-night in this storm ?

Do you see the faces of the fisherman's children at the window?

They cannot see out through the night and storm! But they hope that father

will see the warm little home-light, and that it may help him to bring his boat between those cruel rocks, and through the white, angry breakers, safe to the shore.

Pray for him, Nellie dear; pray for the poor fisherman, that those little children may not be without a father when this wild night is passed.

O pray, too, for Willie Lee.

Find a way, O God, over the stormy waves for the good ship, and a safe shelter for Willie Lee!

FOR PRACTICE IN ARTICULATION.

Drill pupils carefully in pronouncing these words, so frequently mispronounced.

food kět'tle

The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds,
Flash the white-caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman's cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness

To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow

Is passing to and fro, Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind bleak and wild,

As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the color from her cheek?

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

FOR PRACTICE IN ARTICULATION.

Drill pupils carefully in pronouncing the final d in

LANGUAGE LESSON.

What time of day is twilight?

When does an object have a shadow ?

Write the compound words in this lesson.

Write all the words of two syllables in this lesson.