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busy streets to her early labour; for her boy looked brighter than usual this morning, and she had seen him settle himself comfortably for sleep befōre shē left him; and âlthough his wârning words sent a pang through her heart, she clung to the belief that he would ÿet linger long with her-the one feeble trembling stär in the därkened sky of her life.

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The branch was still sweeping his bed with its delicate blossoms, and the sunbeam yet hovered över him when the boy awōke; but a change had passed over himself; the fōrebōdings of the morning were accomplished-the moment of dismissal was near at

hand.

Calmly and peacefully it came; nō struggle märked the severance of sōul and body; and his mother's absence was unmärked by the dying child, whoṣe mind wândered away from visible objects to the train of white-robed angels which peopled the solitude of his chamber, and received his pärting spirit. A few unconnected words that passed his lips were of the green branches that then waved around him; and after the spirit had fled, his hand still held a cluster of the snowy flowers he had loved so well in life. Shall we say that the pear-tree grew in that little court by accident?

F. S. H.

THE

PHONIC READING BOOK.

PART II.-IN VERSE.

31. THE ROBIN'S PETITION.
When the leaves had forsaken the trees,
And the forests were chilly and bāre;
When the brooks were beginning to freeze,
And the snow wavered fast through the air;
A robin had fled from the wood

To the snug habitation of man;
On the threshold the wânderer stood,
And thus his petition began:-

The snow's coming down very fast,
Nō shelter is found on the tree;
When you hear the unpitying blast,
I pray you take pity on me.

"The hips and the haws are all gone,

I can find neither berry nor slōe;
The ground is as härd as a stone,
And I'm âlmost buried in snōw.

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"My dear little nest, once sō neat,

Is now empty, and ragged, and tōrn; On some tree should I now take my seat, I'd be frōzen quite fast before morn.

“Oh, thrōw mē a morsel of bread,

Take me in by the side of the fire;
And when I am wârmëd and fed,
I'll whistle without other hire.

"Till the sun bē again shining bright,
And the snow iș âll gone, let mẽ stay ;
Oh, see what a terrible night!

I shall die if you drive me away.

"And when you come fōrth in the morn, And are talking and wâlking around; Oh, how will your bōṣom bē tōrn,

When you see me lie dead on the ground!

"Then pity a poor little thing,

And throw me a part of your store; I'll fly off on the coming of spring, And never will trouble ÿoû mōre.”

32. THE BLIND BOY.

"Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy,
"That little bird sings very long;
Say, do you see him in his joy;
Is he as pretty as his song?"

"Yes, Edward, yes," replied the maid, I see the bîrd on yonder tree;" The poor boy sighed and gently said, "Sister, I wish that I could see.

"The flowers, yoû say, are very fair,

And bright green leaves are on the trees, And pretty bîrds are singing thereHow beautiful for one who sees!

Yet, I the fragrant flowers can smell,

And I can feel the green leaf's shāde, And I can hear the notes that swell

From those dear bîrds that God has made.

"Sō, sister, God to me is kind,

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Thōugh sight to mē Hẽ haṣ not given ;
But tell me, are there any blind
Among the children up in heaven?"

Ere long, disease its hand had laid
On that dear boy, so meek and mild:
His widowed mother wept, and prayed
That God would spare her sightless child.

He felt her wârm tears on his face,
And said, "Oh, never weep for me;
I'm going to a bright, bright place,

Where God my Saviour I shall see.

'And you'll be there, kind Mary, too;

But, mother. when you do come there,

Tell me, dear mother, that 'tis yoû:
You know I never saw ÿoû hēre."

He spōke no more, but sweetly smiled,
Until the final blow was given,
When God took up that poor blind child,
And opened first his eyes in heaven.

33. MY MOTHER.

1. Who fed me from her gentle breast, and hushed mē in her ärmṣ to rest, and on my cheek sweet kisses pressed? My Mother. 2. When sleep forsook mỹ open eye, who was it sung sweet lullaby, and rocked me that I should not cry? My Mother. 3. Who sat and wâtched my infant head, when sleeping in mỹ cradle bed, and tears of sweet affection shed? My Mother. 4. When pain and sickness māde mē cry, who gāzed upon mỹ heavy eye, and wept for fear that I should die? My Mother. 5. Who ran to help me when I fell, and would some pretty stōry tell, or kiss the pärt to make it well? My Mother. 6. Who taught my infant lips to pray, to love God's hōly word and day, and wâlk in Wisdom's pleasant way? My Mother. 7. And can I ever cease to be affectionate and kind to thee, who wâst so very kind to mē, My Mother? 8. Oh! no, the thought I cannot bear, and, if God please my life to spare, I hōpe I shall reward thy care, Mỹ Mother.

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