THE BLIND BOY. 1. It was a blessed summer's day; F. L. HAWKS. The flowers bloomed, the air was mild; The little birds poured forth their lay, And every thing in nature smiled. 2. In pleasant thought I wandered on Beneath the deep wood's ample shade, Till, suddenly, I came upon Two children who had thither strayed. 3. Just at an aged birch-tree's foot, 4 The children knew not I was near; A tree concealed me from their view; 5. "Dear Mary," said the poor "That little bird. sings very long: So do you see him in his joy, 6. "Yes, Edward, yès;" replied the maid, The poor boy sighed, and gently said: 66 Sister, I wish that I could see. 1. "The flowers, you say, are very fair, And bright green leaves are on the trees, And pretty birds are singing there How beautiful for one who sees! 8. "Yet I the fragrant flowers can smell, And I can feel the green leaf's shade, And I can hear the notes that swell From those dear birds that God has made. 9. "So, sister, GOD to me is kind, Among the children up in Heaven?" 10. Nò; dearest Edward, there all see; I thought I'd like to look at GOD!" 11. (pl.) Ere long, Disease his hand had laid, And said: 66 12. He felt her warm tears on his face, 13. "And you'll come there, dear Mary, too; 14. He spoke no more, but sweetly smiled, QUESTIONS.-1. Why the rising inflection on song and heaven, last words of the 5th and 9th verses? 2. Why the falling on yes and no, first words of the 6th and 10th verses? See Rule I. p. 26. LESSON XI. WORDS FOR SPELLING AND DEFINING. LIV ER Y, dress; garb. CA REER ING, moving speedily. THE TEACHER'S FABLE. MRS. EMILY O. JUDSON. 1. "I will give you a fable," said Mr. Dawson to his pupils, "which, although it may not be so interesting as our Indian story, may afford some amusement." 2. "A fable! why, that is a story, Mr. Dawson." 3. "Right, Lewis; now, can you tell me how it differs from the stories I have told you before?" 4. "Why fables are big stories." 5. "They are wrong stories," said little Abby Stillman. 6. "They are fish stories," added Lewis. 7. "No; animal stories," said Julia May; "for Esop's fables are all about wolves, and lambs, and foxes, and other animals. Fables are stories that are not true." 8. "Are all stories that are not true, fables ?" inquired Mr. Dawson. 9. "No, sir; not the kind of fable that you mean," said Allen Lucas. 10. "All stories that are not true, may, in one sense, be considered fables," said a soft voice in low, measured tones; "but a true fable always conveys a hidden moral." Dawson smiled on the last speaker, and then proceeded with his FABLE. Mr. 11. Down by a river's side, a careful goose had made her nest among the sedges and ferns; and there, one sunny day in spring, she left her helpless family in their bright yellow livery, and went away in search of food. On her return, she found a stranger nestled among her little ones, which were all stretching out their long necks toward him, and joining their shrill voices in a concert of sounds, that nothing, not belonging to the goose family, ever conjured up. 12. As soon as the mother goose had an opportunity for making observations, she found this stranger had wings and a head and feet not altogether unlike her own offspring, and was clothed in a natural coat of feathers, which proved him, beyond the shadow of a doubt, to belong to the extensive race of birds. To be sure, his feathers were of an ugly gray; his beak was hooked suspiciously, instead of extending forward, flat and honest, like the bills of her own little ones; and his toes were divided and furnished with long claws, instead of being connected by that beautiful fan-like web, which would enable him to paddle across the water, like a living fairy-boat. 13. Mrs. Goose did not at all like her visitor; but she discovered that the poor stranger, which was yet a nestling, had met with some misfortune, by which he had been badly bruised, and, in consequence, was utterly unable to move. Now, the goose, notwithstanding her noisy, bustling way, is really a benevolent bird; and so she took the stranger under her own wing, and fed him with her own food, and made him so comfortable that he felt quite at home in the family. 14. The gray eaglet, when the aerie was broken up, in which he had been lodged, was too young to remember anything about it; and, not being at all aware that his destination was the sky, he wandered around among the green sedges, and through the tall meadow-grass with his companions, trying his wing only when he came to the clear stream, on which they floated, and then he would hover about them, until they stepped upon the sand, and were ready for another excursion. 15. True, when the fern was unusually tangled, and his pathway became laborious, he would show the admiring and curious goslings how much more easily he could accomplish a short journey than they; but, otherwise, he seemed to be perfectly contented by equaling them. 16. The young eagle did not know what it was to fly away in the pure, blue sky, as free as the cloud that floated above his head, and there was nothing to induce him to make the attempt; so, in time, his nature became tame, and he loved to crouch in the barn-yard, and listen to the clamors of silly geese; and, although conscious of being less earthly than they, he had too long been accustomed to groveling things, to feel that his natural superiority only rendered his position the more degrading. 17. One day, after the eagle had attained his growth, and become very goose-like in his nature, as he was digging in the mud for worms, he was startled by the whiz of a wing above his head; and, on looking up, he discovered a bird above him, so like himself that he was obliged to look back upon the ground, to become assured that it was not the reflection of his own form, as he had often seen it on the water. 18. Again he looked at the bird, which wheeled and circled above him for a moment, and then, as if disdaining such a near approach to earth, spread out his wings and mounted upward—up, up, clear away-plunging into the liquid ether, until he became a mere speck upon the blazing sun. 19. Again he came a little nearer earth, waved his wing in wild triumph, and went careering through the air, now lost behind a dark cloud that was just hovering on the verge of the horizon, and now far away in the opposite direction, basking in the burning sunbeam, and seemingly tossing the drifted clouds, like snow-wreaths on his wings. 20. The eye of the poor eagle kindled at the sight; and he felt every feather bristle, and every muscle stretch itself to its utmost tension, as he watched the gyrations of the noble bird; and when, at last, he saw him hovering over a wild, craggy hight, and then plunging into its bosom, as though its darkest recesses were all familiar, he started, like a man awakened from a long night-mare dream. 21. With a scream of joy he expanded his wings, and ross upward for a little way; but, as a puff of wind came past him, he veered from his course, and was nigh losing his selfcommand; making a strong effort, however, he preserved his balance, fluttered his wings again, struggled with another current of air, then sunk back to earth exhausted, and hid his head under his useless wing. |