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Harry. Why, perhaps I might, if I wanted them; but I do not recollect that I want any thing at present.

Charles. And I dare say you mean to give your sixpence back again to your grandmamma, because you do not know what to do with it.

Harry. No, I would rather give it to you, Charles, than return it, for grandmamma would not be pleased with that. But I mean to lay it by, and then the first time I really want any thing, you know, I shall be able to have it.

Charles. Well, I know who will be a miser, one of these days.

Harry. What is a miser, Charles ?

Charles. Why, one that loves his dear money better than all the world besides, and would starve to death before he would touch a farthing of it. That is what a miser is, and I know you will be one. Ah, who comes here in such a dismal condition? Hey, little boy, what is the matter?

Little Boy. O dear, sir, I have lost the shilling, and it was all we had in the whole world! I dropped it here, I fancy, somewhere, and it is quite gone, and now we must all starve again.

Harry. But do not cry so ; tell us what you were going to do with it.

Liille Boy. 0, sir, to buy a loaf, to be sure ; what else should I buy? But it is quite gone, and poor mamma must die now—that she must; Oh dear, Oh dear!

Harry. No, that she shall not though, if that be all; here is sixpence for you, poor thing ! it is all I have got, but perhaps it will buy enough to keep your poor mamma from dying ; will it not?

Little Boy. O, yes, dear sir.

Charles. Well, and here is mine too. Dear Harry, how much better is this than wasting it as I meant to do on the Common! I would rather feel as I do now, than buy a whole tent. Ah, I see the difference now between you and a miser.


First Scholar.
I saw the glorious sun arise

From yonder mountains gray;
And as he travelled through the skies,

The darkness fled away.
And all around me was so bright
I wished it would be always light.
But when his shining course was done,

The gentle moon was ever nigh,
And stars came twinkling, one by one,

Upon the shady sky.--
Who made the sun to shine so far,
The moon and every twinkling star ?

Second Scholar.
'Twas God alone who made them all,

By his almighty hand :
He holds them, that they do not fall,

And bids them move or stand;
That glorious God, who lives afar,
In heaven, beyond the highest star.


What way does the wind come? what way does he

go? He rides over the water, and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale, and o'er rocky

height, Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding

He tosses about in every bare tree,
As, if you look up, you plainly may see;
But how he will come, and whither he goes,
There's never a scholar in England knows.

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,
And ring a sharp larum ; but if you should look,
There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow,
Round as a pillow and whiter than milk,
And softer than if it were covered with silk.
Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock,
Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock;
-Yet seek him-and what shall you find in the

Nothing but silence and empty space,
Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,
That he's left for a bed for beggars and thieves !

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,
And growls as if he would fix his claws
Right in the slates, and, with a huge rattle,
Drive them down, like men in a battle.
But let him range round, he does us no harm,
We'll build up the fire, we're snug and warm ;

Untouched by his breath, see the candle shines

bright, And burns with a clear and steady light; Books have we to read-hush! that half-stifled knell, Methinks, 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell. Come, now we'll to bed, and when we are there He may work his own will, and what shall we care ? He may knock at the door-we'll not let him in, May drive at the windows-we'll laugh at his din : Let him seek his own home, wherever it be ; Here's a cozie warm house for Edward and me.



If your person were as vast as your desires, the whole world would not contain you.—Your right hand would touch the east, and your left the west, at the same time. You grasp at more than you are equal to. From Europe you reach Asia ; from Asia you lay hold on Europe. And if you should conquer all mankind, you seem disposed to wage war with woods and snows, with rivers and wild beasts, and subdue nature.

But, have you considered the usual course of things? Have you reflected that great trees are many years a growing to their height, but are cut down in an hour ? It is foolish to think of the fruit only, without considering the height you have to climb, to come at it. Take care, lest, while you strive to reach the top, you fall to the ground, with the branches you have already laid hold on.

The Lion, when dead, is devoured by ravens; and rust consumes the hardness of iron. There is nothing so strong, but it is in danger from what is weak. It will, therefore, be your wisdom to take care how you venture beyond your reach.

Besides, what have you to do with the Scythians; or the Scythians with you? We have never invaded Macedonia; why should you attack Scythia ? We inhabit vast deserts, and pathless woods, where we do not want to hear the name of Alexander. We are not disposed to submit to slavery, and we have no ambition to tyrannize over any nation.

That you may understand the genius of the Scythians, we present you with a yoke of oxen, an arrow, and a goblet. We use these respectively, in our commerce with friends, and with foes. We give to our friends, the corn, which we raise by the labour of our oxen. With the goblet we join in pouring out drink offerings to the gods; and with the arrows, we attack our enemies.

You, pretend to be the punisher of robbers, and are yourself the greatest robber the world ever saw. You have taken Lydia ; you have seized Syria ; you are master of Persia ; you bave subdued the Bactrians and attacked India. All this will not satisfy you, unless you lay your greedy and insatiable hands upon our flocks and herds.

How imprudent is your conduct! you grasp at riches, the possession of which only increases your avarice. You increase your hunger, by that which should produce satiety; so that the more you have, the more you desire.

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