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fallen out, and that good old wom'-an iş go'ing to pick it up and give it to him; no doubt he will thank her ver'-y much, and give her a pen'-ny for her pains. He is not so fool'-ish as some boys I know, who spend all their mon'-ey in gin'-ger-bread; for this reason he has al'-ways a pen'-ny at hand to give in char'-i-ty, or to re-ward' an'-y bod'-y who does him a kind'-ness.


Lit'-tle Fran'-cis Brown was so well known for his civ'-il man'-ners and good con'-duct, that he was called Civ'-il Frank by all the vil-la-gers. He lived with his moth'-er in a lit'-tle farm house; and it was his de-light', af-ter feed-ing the pigs and pōul'-try, and milk'-ing the cow, to go and sit on a stile and see the sun set, which he thought the fi'-nest sight in the world. A gen'-tle-man one day passed by, as Fran'-cis was en-joy'-ing his

eve-ning treat, and was so struck with Civil Frank's man'-ner, that he went home with him to his moth'-er's cot'-tage, and prom'-ised to send him ev'-er-y year a pres'-ent of books and mon'-ey.


Fan'-ny Cher'-ry-cheek was sit'-ting at din'ner with her fa'-ther and moth'-er, and her brother Charles. Give me some bread, said she. My dear, said her moth'-er, 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. After 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 nev-er to be-have' so ill a-gain'.


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 hap'-py 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

and his mam-ma' were in it.
blind man stood and held his hat.

And the

Let us

give the poor blind man something 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 a-bout', till, one by one, he had found all the half-pence; and be-sides' the trouble he had, it took him so much time that he al'-most lost his din'-ner by com'-ing too late.

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.


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


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,

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