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In this wheelbarrow.” So then I was blind-like
To what he had a-working in his mind-like,
And mounted for a pàssenger inside;
And coming to a puddle, pretty wide,
He tipped me in, a-grinning back behind-like.
So when a màn may come to me so thick-like,
And shake my hand where once he passed me by,
And tell me he would do me this or that,
I can't help thinking of the big boy's trick-like,
And then, for all I can but wag my hat
And thănk him, I do feel a little shy.

2. I had a piece of rich, sweet pùdding on my fork, when Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble me for part of a pigeon that stood near me. In my haste, scarce knowing what I did, I whipped the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burning còal! It was impossible to conceal my àgony; my eyes were starting from their sòckets! At last, in spite of shame and resolution, I was obliged to drop the cause of my torment on my plàte.


The mountain and the squirrel

Had a quàrrel,
And the former called the latter “Little prig;"

Bun replied,
“You are doubtless very. big,
But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together
To make up a year,

And a sphére;
And I think it no disgrace,
To occupy mỹ place.
If I'm not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not hàlf so spry:

I'll not denỳ you make
A very pretty squirrel track!
Talents differ; all is well and wisely pùt;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,

Neither can you crack a nût.”

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III. Narrative and Descriptive. 1. A friend called on Michael Àngelo, who was finishing a stàtue; some time afterwards he called agàin; the sculptor was still at his work; his friend, looking at the figure, exclaimed, “You have been idle since I saw you last.” By no means," replied the sculptor; “I have retouched this part and polished thàt; I have softened this féature and brought out this muscle; I have given more expression to this líp and more energy to this lìmb.” “Well, well,” said his friend, “but all these are trìfles.” “It may be so," replied Angelo, “but recollect that trifles make perfection, and that perfection is nò trifle."

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2. At the conclusion of the American Revolution, Tor. Franklin, the English ambassador, and the French minister, Vergennes, di..ing together at Versailles, a toàst from each was called for and agreed to.

The British minister began with: "George III.—who, like the sun in his meridian, spreads a luster throughout and enlightens the world.”

The French minister followed with: “The illustrious Louis XVÌ.—who, like the mòon, sheds his mild and benignant rays on and influences the glòbe.”

Our American Franklin then gave: “George Washington, Commander of the American Àrmy—who, like Joshua of old, commanded the sun and moon to stand still, and they obèyed him.”

3. Patrick Henry, who gave the first impulse to the ball of the Revolution, introduced his celebrated resolution on the Stamp Act, in the Virginia House of Burgesses, in 1765. As he descanted on the tyranny of that obnoxious act, he exclaimed: “Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third” – “Trèason !" cried the Speaker; “Trèason! Trèason! Trèason!” re-echoed from every part of the hòuse. It was one of those trying moments which are decisive of character; but Henry faltered not for an instant; and rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the Speaker an eye flashing with fire, continued,—“may profit by these exàmples : if this be treason, make the most of it."

1. We walked along the road and saw a white and hospitablelooking hòuse. The door stood open, and a young mother sat and wept over her dying child. A small boy was standing by her side. The little one looked with cunning eyes at his mother, and opened the small hands in which he hid a little bùtterfly he had caught and brought with him; and the butterfly waved over the little corpse. The mother looked at it and smiled. She understood certainly the poetry of the incident.

5. Not even the magnificent harbor of Constantinople, in which security, depth, and expanse are combined, can rival the peerless, land-locked Bay of San Francisco. How shall we descrìbe it? You are sailing along the high coast of California, when suddenly a gàp is seen, as if the rocks had been rent asùnder: you leave the open ócean, and enter the stràit. The mountains tower so high on either hand that it seems but a stone's throw from your vessel to the shòre, though, in reality, it is a mile. Slowly advancing, an hour's sail brings you to where the strait grows still nàrrower; and lo! before you, rising from the very middle of the waters, a steep rock towers aloft like a giant wàrder of the strait.

6. I remember seeing, through Lord Rosse's telescope, one of those nèbulæ which have hitherto appeared like small masses of vàpor floating about in space. I saw it composed of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stàrs; and the effect to the eye-to mine at least—was as if I had had my hand full of diamonds, and suddenly unclosing it and flinging them forth, they were dispersed as from a center, in a kind of partly irrégular, partly fànlike form. And I had a strange feeling of suspense and amazement while I looked, because they did not change their relative position, did not fàll—though in the act to fall—but seemed fixed in the very attitude of being flung forth into spàce. It was most wondrous and beautiful to see.

7. “Having in my youth notions of severe piety," says a celebrated Persian writer, “I used to rise in the night to watch, pray, and read the Kòran. One night, as I was engaged in these exercises, my father, a man of practical virtue, awòke while I was reading. “Behold,' said I to him, “thy other children are lost in irreligious slùmber, while I alone wake to praise Gòd!'Son of my soul,' he answered, “it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of thy brethren.'”


IV. Didactic. 1. Generally speaking, an author's style is a faithful copy of his mind. If you would write a lúcid style, let there first be light in your own mind; and if you would write a gránd style, you ought to have a grand chàracter.

2. The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake

Our thirsty souls with ràin;
The blow most dreaded falls to break

From off our limbs a chàin;
And wrongs of man to mán but make

The love of Gòd more plain.
As through the shadowy lens of even
The eye looks farthest into heaven,
On gleams of star and depths of blue
The glaring súnshine never knew.

3. A man's true wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to his fellow-man. When he dies, people will say, “What pròperty has he left behind him ?” But the angels who examine him will ask, “What good deeds hast thou sent before thee ?”

4. The tastes of men may differ very considerably as to their object, and yet none of them be wròng. One man relishes poetry most; another takes pleasure in bothing but history. One prefers comedy; another, tràgedy. One admires the símple; another, the ornamented style. The young are amused with gay and spríghtly compositions; the elderly are more entertained with those of a gràver cast. Some nations delight in bold pictures of mánners and strong representations of pássions; others incline to more correct and regular elegance both in description and sentiment. Though all differ, yet all pitch upon some one beauty which peculiarly suits their turn of mind,-and, therefore, no one has a title to condemn the rest.

5. How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things which would frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important usefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, “He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do any." Good is done by degrèes.

6. Be nòble! and the nobleness that lies

In other men, sleeping, but never dead,
Will rise in majesty to meet thine òwn.


I have seen
A curious child who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intèntly; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for mùrmurings from within
Were heard-sonorous cadences! whereby,
To his belief, the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sèa.
-Even such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of Faith.

V. Public Address. 1. Canning, in a reply to one of Lord Brougham's speeches, used the following illustràtion :-In Queen Anne's reign there lived a very sage and able critic, named Dennis, who, in his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy that he himself had written all the igood things in all the good plàys that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any author he insisted was his own. 'It is none of his,” Dennis would say; “nò, it's mine!" He went one day to see a new tràgedy. Nothing particularly good to his taste occurred till a scene in which a great stòrm was represented. As soon as he heard the thunder rolling over head, he exclaimed, “That's my thunder!" So it is with the honorable and learned gentleman; it's all his thunder. It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thùnder.

2. It is common for men to say that such and such things are perfectly right, very desirable,-but, unfortunately, they are not pràcticable. Oh nò. Those things which are not practicable are not desirable. There is nothing really beneficial that does not lie within the reach of an informed understanding and a welldirected pursuit. There is nothing that God has judged good for us that He has not given us the means to accomplish, both in the natural and mòral world. If we cry like children for the moon, like children we must cry òn.

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