Annual Report of the Commissioners ..., Volumul 631897 |
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12 marks 20 marks 31st December Agriculture answering Arithmetic attempt any number average daily attendance Ballina Ballymena Belfast boys branches Candidates cent Church of Ireland Commissioners Convent schools Cookery County course District Inspector Ditto Drawing dressmaking Dublin Education exceed 50 exercises Female Teachers Fifth following 10 questions Galway Geography girls Give Grammar Grant half allowed Head Inspector hours allowed Industrial Department infants instruction Ireland Irish Kilkenny knitting lessons Limerick Listowel Male Teachers managers ment Millstreet Model Schools Monitors Mountmellick Music N.B.-You may attempt nation Questions National Schools needlework Newtownards number of pupils number of schools paid paper pass Poor Law Union practical present principal proficiency programme Queen's Scholars questions so long reading Reports results examination Results Fees rule Second Class Sisters of Mercy Sixth Class spelling taught teaching Third Class tion Tonic Sol-fa total marks assigned total number Training Colleges V.T. Rev words Write
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Pagina 161 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That 1 with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Pagina 109 - Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour, As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem ; Letting I dare not wait upon I would, Like the poor cat i
Pagina 174 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Pagina 126 - That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Pagina 201 - Here as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
Pagina 126 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Pagina 153 - Little did I dream when she added titles of veneration to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in that bosom...
Pagina 177 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Pagina 170 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend: so Caesar may; Then, lest he may, prevent.
Pagina 178 - Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit...