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Tear the flower off," said the other boy, and then the daisy began to tremble for fear. To be torn off was to lose its life, and it was so anxious to live, that it might come with the turf into the cage of the captive lark.

“No, let it stay!” said the first boy, "it makes the turf so pretty." "The daisy was accordingly spared, and arrived with the turf in the cage of the prisoner.

But the poor bird lamented loudly over its lost freedom, and flapped with its wings against the wires of the cage; and the little daisy could not speak, could not say a word of comfort, willing as it was to do so. Thus passed the whole forenoon.

“There is no water here,” said the imprisoned lark; “they have all gone out, and have forgotten to give me a drop of water to drink! My throat is dry and burning: ah! I must die." Then it bored its bill into the cool turf to refresh itself a little, and its eyes fell upon the daisy.

The bird nodded to the flower, kissed it with its bill, and said: “Poor little flower, you will grow dry and wither away here too. They have given me only you, and your little sput of green grass, instead of the whole world that I had outside! Ah! you only remind me how much I have lost."

“Oh, if I could only comfort him!” thought the daisy. Evening came, but still no one brought the poor bird drop of water. It stretched its pretty wings, and shook them in a quivering way that was painful to the daisy to see; its song was now a mournful chirp, its little head bent over the flower, and the bird's heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not now, as on the evening before, fold its petals together and sleep, it hung sickly and sad towards the ground.

The boys did not come till next morning, and when they saw the bird dead they cried, and shed many tears, and they dug it a neat little grave, which they decked


with leaves of flowers. They had put the dead bird into a pretty red box, for they were resolved to give it a fine burial. Poor lark! while he lived and sang they forgot him, let him sit in his cage and suffer thirst, and now when he was dead, they gave him tears and ornaments.

The turf, with the daisy in the middle of it, was thrown out into the dusty road, and nobody thonght of the one that had felt most pity for the poor bird, and had been most anxious to comfort it.

Hans Andersen.



Schol'-ar School’-fel-lows Dil'-i-gent

0-pin'-ion En-cour'-age-ment Slack'-en-ing Ex-cus'-ing Thought'-less-ness Com-mand'-ments At-ten'-tive

A word with you, my boys and girls, not you who are quick at your books and your play ; not you who are before your companions in learning ; not you who are always gay as larks, and light-hearted as lambs in a sunny field. But listen to me, you that are timid, and somewhat backward in your books. You that find it hard to learn, and cannot easily keep up with your school-fellows, listen patiently to Friend Barnaby.

There is no reason why you should Be out of spirits : only be attentive, and do your best, and I will answer for your making progress in


studies. It is said, that once on a time, a hare and a tortoise

The hare was by far the best runner, but, being vain and confident, she took a nap by the way, The tortoise got on very slowly, but being diligent, and never slackening her pace, she passed by the sleeping hare and won the race.

Now who can tell my little fearful friends, but that you, after all, by obedience, diligence, and plodding

ran a race.


onwards, may win the race, and get more solid and useful knowledge, than those who run on so fast before you.

Some of the best trees are a long time in coming to perfection. Some of the best fruits ripen slowly, and many of the most learned men were at first, by no means clever scholars ; therefore take courage and do your very

best. Mind, I am not excusing thoughtlessness and inattention, but only want of ability. If you are idle, careless, and disobedient, your are doing yourselves a great iujury; but if you are doing your best, again I say, Barnaby will answer for your success.

Your learning is not meant so much to make you clever, as it is to render you useful. He who has learned to fear God, to keep his commandments, and to love and serve those around him, is a better scholar in my opinion, than he who has learned Latin and Greek, but knows not how to make himself useful.

Friend Barnaby.


Now ponder well, you parents dear

These words which I shall write ;
A doleful story you shall hear,

In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account

In Norfolk dwelt of late,
Whose wealth and riches did surmount

Most men of his estate.
Sore sick he was, and like to die,

No help his life could save ;
His wife by him as sick did lie,

And both possest one grave.

No love between these two was lost,

Each was to other kind,
In love they lived, in love they died,

And left two babes behind :

The one a fine and pretty boy,

Not passing three years old ;
The other a girl more young than he,

And made in beauty's mould.
The father left his little son,

As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should

come, Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane,

Two hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,

Which might not be controlled.
But if the children chanced to die,

Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth ;

For so the will did run.

“Now brother," said the dying man,

“Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl,

No friends else have they here; To God and you I do commend

My children night and day ; A little while be sure we have

Within this world to stay.

6 You must be father and mother both

And uncle, all in one ;
God knows what will become of them,

When I am dead and gone."

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