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Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark-'twas dying, sure but slow,

Just as that one, whose name you cut, died twenty years ago.

8. My lids have long been dry, Tom, but tears came in my

eyes;

I thought of her I loved so well-those early broken ties: I visited the old church-yard, and took some flowers to

strow

Upon the graves of those we loved, some twenty years

ago.

9. Some in the church-yard laid-some sleep beneath the sea; But few are left of our old class, excepting you and me; And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are called

to go,

I hope they'll lay us where we played, just twenty years

ago.

a GREET, to welcome; salute. RE-PLACED', exchanged for.

CDE-FACED', injured; cut.
d BEAU (bo), a gallant.

[Description of a visit to the old school-house play-ground, and of the changes which twenty years had produced. This poem, mostly des riptive, is of a meditative, almost melancholy and pathetic character. (See p. xiii.) What degree of force is required in the reading of it? Of time? What pitch of voice? What is the meaning of "to know," at the end of the 3d line, 1st verse? Why are the willows larger than they were twenty years ago, and why does the stream appear narrower?

In several cases in this lesson the falling inflection is given to "Tom," apparently in violation of Rule II., "direct address." But in the cases in which the word takes the falling inflection in this lesson, it is really an expletive, spoken in a musing mood, and not designed as an "address" to arrest attention. Hence, in such cases, it comes under the principle of "positive and complete ideas," requiring the falling inflection.]

LESSON XXXIV.

A HUNDRED YEARS TO COME.

1. WHO'LL press, for gold, this crowded street,
A hundred years to come'?
Who'll tread yon church with willing feet,
A hundred years to come'?

Pale, trembling age, and fiery youth,
And childhood with his brow of truth,
The rich and poor, on land, on sea—
Where will the mighty millions be
A hundred years to come'?

2. We all within our graves shall sleep,
A hundred years to come;

No living soul for us will weep

A hundred years to come:

But other men our land will till,

And others, then, our streets will fill,
And other words they'll sing as gay,
And bright the sunshine as to-day,

A hundred years to come.

[This is a proper sequel to the preceding lesson, as it looks forward to the vast changes which the short period of a hundred years will produce. The thoughts here expressed ought deeply to impress every one with the exceeding brevity of human life, and the vanity of all earthly things.]

LESSON XXXV.

THE WELCOME HOME.

Wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.-Matt. vii., 13, 14.

And a little child shall lead them.-Isaiah xi., 6.

1.

"WILL you come with me, my pretty one'?"

I asked a little child

"Will you come with me and gather flowers' ?"
She looked on me and smiled.

Then in a low, sweet, gentle voice,

She said, "I can not come',

I must not leave this narrow path',
For I am going home'."

2. "But will you not' ?" I asked again;
"The sun is shining bright,

And you might twinea a lily-wreath
To carry home at night;

And I could show you pleasant things

If you would only come:"

But still she answered as before,

"No; I am going home."

3. "But look', my child': the fields are green,
And 'neath the leafy trees

Children are playing merrily,
Or resting at their ease.

Does it not hurt your tender feet
This stony path to tread' ?"
"Sometimes'; but I am going home!"
Once more she sweetly said.

4. "My father både me keep this path,
Nor ever turn aside;

The road which leads away from him'

Is

very smooth and wide;

The fields are fresh, and cool, and green;
Pleasant the shady trees;

But those around my own dear home
Are lovelier far than these.

5. "I must not loiter on the road,
For I have far to go;

And I should like to reach the door
Before the sun is low.

I must not stay; but will you not—
Oh, will you not come too'?
My home is very beautiful,

And there is room for you."

6. I took her gentle hand in mine;
Together we went on;

Brighter and brighter o'er our path
The blessed sunbeams shone.

At length we saw the distant towers;
But ere we reached the gate,

The child outstripped my lingering feet,
Too overjoyed to wait.

And, as she turned her radiant face,

Once more to bid me come',

I heard a chorus of glad songs-
The ANGELS' "Welcome Home!"

TWINE, form into a wreath.
BADE, ordered; commanded.

Lot'-TER, linger: delay.

Friends' Review.

OUT-STRIP'PED, outran.
O-VER-JOYED', having great joy.
RA'-DI-ANT, beaming with joy.

[A child is described as passing along a narrow stony path: being invited to turn aside into wider and smoother paths, and into the green fields, to gather flowers, and enjoy the pleasures which others found there, she declines, because her "father" had told her to keep in the "narrow way," and because she was "going home." While hastening onward, she urges the questioner to go with her. Both walk on together: they come within

sight of the distant towers, when the child, too overjoyed to wait, hurries forward alone, when, as the gates of the city open, there is heard the ANGELS' "Welcome Home."

It is evident that this poem has a meaning different from its literal signification, and that something beyond what at first appears is intended to be represented by it. What, then, is the character of the poem? (See p. xi.) Although not a complete allegory, it is allegorical in character. The teacher, after questioning the pupils on the lesson, should explain to them its full meaning.]

LESSON XXXVI.

THE CADI'S DECISIONS.

AN ARABIAN TALE.

1. BOU-AKAS, at one time the sheika or chief ruler of Algeria, having heard that the cadi of one of his twelve tribes administered" justice in an admirable manner, and pronounced decisions in a style worthy of King Solomon himself, determined to judge, from his own observation, of the truth of the report.

2. Accordingly, dressed like a private individual, without arms or attendants, he set out for the cadi's town, mounted on a docile Arabian steed. Having arrived there, he was just entering the gate, when a cripple, seizing the border of his garment, asked him for alms in the name of the prophet. Bou-Akas gave him money, but the cripple still maintained his hold.

a

3. "What dost thou want?" asked the sheik. "I have already given thee alms.”

'Yes,” replied the beggar, "but the law says not only, 'Thou shalt give alms to thy brother,' but also, ‘Thou shalt do for thy brother whatsoever thou canst." "

"Well'! and what can I do for thee'?”

4. "Thou canst save me-poor crawling creature that I am!-from being trodden under the feet of men, horses, mules, and camels, which would certainly happen to me in passing through the crowded square, in which a fair is now being held,"

"And how can I save thee'?"

5. "By letting me ride behind you, and putting me down safely in the market-place, where I have business." "Be it so," replied Bou-Akas. And, stooping down, he

helped the cripple to get up behind him; a business which was not accomplished without much difficulty.

6. The strangely-assorted riders attracted many eyes as they passed through the crowded streets; and at length they reached the market-place.

"Is this where you wish to stop'?" asked Bou-Akas. "Yes."

"Then get down."

"Get down yourself."

"What for?”

7. "To leave me the horse."

"To leave you my horse'! What mean you by that'?" "I mean that he belongs to me. Know you not that we are now in the town of the just cadi', and that, if we bring the case before him, he will certainly decide in my favor'?" 8. "Why should he do so, when the animal belongs to me'?"

"Don't you think that, when he sees us two, you, with your strong, straight limbs, which Allah' has given you for the purpose of walking, and I with my weak legs and distorteds feet, he will decree that the horse shall belong to him who has most need of him'?"

9. "Should he do so, he would not be the just cadi,” said Bou-Akas.

"Oh, as to that,” replied the cripple, laughing, "although he is just, he is not infallible.”h

The sheik was greatly surprised. "But," he thought to himself, "this will be a capital opportunity of judging the judge." Then he said aloud, "I am content, we will go before the cadi."

10. On arriving at the tribunal, where the judge, according to the Eastern custom, was publicly administeringi justice, they found that two trials were already in waiting, and would, of course, be heard before theirs.

and a

11. The first was between a taleb, or learned man, peasant. The point in dispute was the taleb's wife, whom the peasant claimed as his own.

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