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were about. They moved forwards, I say, to where stood a neat, pretty town, which they set on fire
C. Set a town on fire ? Wicked wretches !
F. And while it was burning, they murdered twenty thousand men..
C. O fie! You don't intend I shall believe all this. I thought all along you were making up a tale, as you often do; but you shall not catch me this time. What! they lay still, I suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats ?
F. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could.
C. How should these men kill twenty thousand people, pray?
F. Why not? the murderers were thirty thousand.
C. O, now I have found you out! You mean a BATTLE.
F. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murders half so bloody.
THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL, AND THE GRASS
COME, take up your hats, and away let us haste
And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
A mushroom the table, and on it was spread
With steps most majestic, the Snail did advance,
Then as the evening gave way to the shadows of
night, Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his
light; So home let us hasten, while yet we can see; For no watchman is waiting for you or for me.
ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU, KILLING A LIT.
A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you,
Well fed, and at his ease,
Should wiser be than to pursue
Each trifle that he sees.
But you have killed a tiny bird,
Which flew not till to-day,
Forbidding you the prey.
And ease a doggish pain,
You left where he was slain.
Nor was he of the thievish sort,
Or one whom blood allures, But innocent was all his sport,
Whom you have torn for yours. My dog! what remedy remains,
Smce, teach you all I can, I see you, after all my pains,
So much resemble Man ?
Sir, when I flew to seize the bird
In spite of your command,
And harder to withstand.
You cried-forbear—but in my breast
A mightier cried-proceed'Twas nature, Sir, whose strong behest
Impelld me to the deed.
Yet much as Nature I respect,
I ventured once to break
Passing his prison door,
And panting pressed the floor;
Well knowing him a sacred thing,
Not destin'd to my tooth,
And lick'd his feathers smooth.
Let my obedience then, excuse
My disobedience now !
From your aggrieved Bow-wow!
If killing birds be such a crime,
(Which I can hardly see,)
With verse addressed to me.
BE KIND TO YOUR SISTER.
1. One morning, there was a little girl sitting on the door-steps of a pleasant cottage near the common. She was thin and pale. Her head was resting upon her slender hand. There was a touching sadness in her sweet face, which the dull, heavy expression about her jet-black eyes, did not destroy. What was she thinking of, sitting thus alone?
2. Perhaps of that pretty flower-garden, which she had cultivated with so much taste and care ;-those blue morning-glories, and bright yellow nasturtions, which she had taught to climb to her window ;-or those four-o'clocks, which she had planted in so straight a line, under the little fence which encircled the flower-bed. She might have been thinking of these ;-perhaps wondering whether she should see these flowers, which she had been cultivating with so much care, open their pretty leaves to another summer's sun.
3. Her name was Helen. For several weeks she had seemed to be drooping, without any particular disease ; inconstant in her attendance at school, and losing gradually her interests in all her former employments. Helen had one sister, Clara, a little older than herself, and several brothers. While she was most indisposed they had expressed a great deal of sympathy, and tried to amuse her, and had willingly given up their own enjoyments to promote hers. *
4. But children will too often be selfish ; and when Helen, for some days, appeared better and able to run about and amuse herself, they would forget how peculiarly sensitive she had become, and the cross words which they occasionally spoke, and the neglect with which they sometimes treated her, wounded her feelings, and caused her to shed many bitter tears, as she lay awake on her little cot at night.
5. This day she seemed better, and it was something her sister had said to her just before, which gave that expression of sadness to her face, as she sat at the door of the cottage. Clara soon came to her again.