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He pushed out his tongue and tasted.

It was a strong poison, but sweet as honey. He tasted againagain—again; and then fell down—dead as a door nail.

De. Liefde.


Little bird, with bosom red,
Welcome to my humble shed !
Daily near my table steal
While I pick my scanty meal.
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll cast a crumb to thee;
Well rewarded if I spy
Pleasure glancing in thine eye.
See thee, when thou'st ate thy fill,
Plume thy breast and wipe thy bill,
Pouring forth thy grateful note,
Innocent as sweet thy throat !
Come my feather'd friend again,
Well thou know'st the broken pane;
Ask of me thy daily store,
Ever welcome to my door.






Re-bound'-ed Treas'-ure

Im-mov'-a-ble Hol-loa'

Peas'-ant Vi'-o-lent-ly Coun'-te-nance Ma-li'-cious-ly

A Fox and a goat were walking together on the main road. After having advanced a few yards, they saw a bag lying at the side of the hedge.

“I wonder what there may be in that bag.” said

the goat.

“I'll see,” said the fox; and, putting his mouth to the string with which the bag was tied, he bit it through in a moment; then seizing the bottom of the bag with his teeth, he shook it, and the most splendid carrots rolled out.

“ Those are for me,” said the fox, "for I have opened the bag."

“You shan't touch them," answered the goat, “ else I'll batter

my horns, till


ribs crack.” The fox looked at the large horns of the goat, and showed his teeth. The goat, seeing the fox's teeth, thought within himself, “I don't like those sharp fellows." And the fox thought, “I don't believe my ribs would stand those horns."

So they kept standing over the carrots, and looked at each other, but neither had the courage to touch the spoil.

After a pause the fox said, “ What's the use of our standing here? Let us see which of us is the stronger. Yonder are two heaps of stones; take you one of them and I'll take the other. He who first throws down his heap shall have the carrots."

“Very well," said the goat. So they went each to

his heap.

The goat placed himself on his hind legs, and knocked with his horns till the ground rebounded, but the heap kept immovable.

“You don't hit hard enough,” said the fox; "take a run at it.”

The goat went a few steps back, and ran at the heap as violently as he could. Crack! crack! and both his horns fell down to the ground.

When the fox saw this, he began dancing on his hind legs.


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“Ah! my dear fellow,” cried he, “ the carrots are now for me."

“ Not yet,” said the goat. “You haven't thrown down your heap.

And if you touch the carrots before then, I'll fight you with the stumps that are left on my head.”

The fox looked at the goat's stumps, and thought one of them is very sharp; he might rip up my sides." Very

. well,” said he; “ I'll throw down my heap ; it's a trifle to me.”

The fox began digging round with his fore-feet till there was a large hole in the ground; but, holloa ! it fell on the fox and broke his left hind leg.

There they stood looking at one another with a sad countenance, the one with broken horns, and the other with a broken leg.

Jump at the carrots !” said the goat maliciously. “I now leave them to you."

"I can't,” sighed the fox, “my leg pains me too much. You may take them.”

“Very well,” said the goat, and ran towards the bag. But, oh, dear! there was neither bag nor carrots; for, during their quarrel, a peasant had passed by and picked


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up both.

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“Alas !” cried the goat, “ what fools we are ! Had we divided the treasure in peace, I would have saved my horns, you your leg, and each of us would have had enough of carrots.”

De Liefde. THE MATCHES. Flour'-ish-ing A-sun'-der Im-me'-di-ate-ly Beau'-ti-ful As-signed' Deign Ward'-robe Clois'-ter Jeal'-ous-ies Splen'-did


Vul'-gar There was once a bundle of Matches that could not contain themselves for pride, because they thought they

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were of such high birth. Their father, the fir, had in olden times been a great tall tree in one of the northern forests. But these Matches were now lying beside a kitchen grate, between a tinder-box and an old iron pot, to which they told most wonderful stories about their younger days.

Yes, when we were on the green bough,” said they, “then we really had a flourishing time of it. All the day long we had sunshine, and the little birds amused us with merry songs. We could see plainly enough, too, that we were rich; for while other trees put on a decent dress only in summer, our family had its beautiful green wardrobe all the year. At last in the midst of this happy kind of life, the wood-cutters came; and this was what split our family asunder. Our mighty father got a place as mainmast to a splendid ship, which could sail round the world. The other branches of the family went somewhere else. And to us was assigned the office of making a light for the common throng.'

“ The rest of us are probably as well born as you," replied the Iron Pot; "but what does our high birth avail us in this dull place. Excepting the Water Can, which sometimes goes down into the yard, we live more retired here than in a cloister. Our only news-bearer is the Market Basket; but he makes such a chatter about what he hears and sees, that only yesterday an old pot fell down and broke in two, in sheer alarm at his noise.”

“ Have done with your nonsense about birth,” said the Tinder-box, putting in a word ; " let us have some sport while the housemaid is in bed.” And immediately Flint and Steel struck so hard against each other that they sparkled, as if to say,

“What a merry night we shall have of it!'

“Let us talk about who is the grandest of us all,” said the Matches.

“No, I will have a dance," said the Fire-tongs; and

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away it danced, throwing up into the air first the one leg and then the other. Oh, what a sight to be sure ! The old Chair-cover in the corner burst with laughter at the very sight of it.

“Pooh, how very vulgar!” thonght the Matches.

Then the Tea-urn was called on for a song. But she said she had a cold, and could only sing when she was boiling. But the fact was, she would not deign to sing till she found herself among the great folks in the drawing-room.

If the Tea-urn will not sing, I will,” said the Teakettle, who was chief kitchen-singer, and half-brother to the former.

“No jealousies,” said the Market-basket: “is this the way


pass the night ? Would it not be much better to turn the house topsy-turvy ? then each would get into his right place. That would be something like fun to us.”

Yes, let us make a regular to-do,” cried they all with one voice.

At this moment the door opened. It was the housemaid; and Pot, Pan, Kettle, and Tea-urn were still in a moment. The housemaid took the Matches, and made

light with them. Oh, how they crackled and burned in the yellow-blue flame !

“Now then,” thonght they, “every blockhead must see that we stand first, and how brightly we shine; and so saying they were burned to ashes.

Hans Andersen.

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
God grant me grace my prayers


O God, preserve my mother dear
In health and strength for many a year;

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