To help your speed it were as well
That I should ease you of your shell;
Jog on a little faster, pr'ythee;

I'll take a nap and then be with thee."
The tortoise heard his jaunting jeer,
But still resolved to persevere;
On to the goal securely crept,
While puss unknowing soundly slept.
The bets were won, the hare awoke :
When thus the victor tortoise spoke:
"Puss, though I own thy quicker parts,
Things are not always done by starts;
You may deride my awkward расе,
But slow and steady wins the race.'

LLOYD,

AN IRISH SCHOOLMASTER.

described immediately distinguished manufacture respectable exclaimed seminary contradictory apparently breeches rehearse sagacity

As you leave the village you have, to the left, a view of the hill which I have already described, and to the right, a level expanse of fertile country, bounded by a good view of respectable mountains, peering directly into the sky; and in a line that forms an acute angle from the point of the road where you ride, is a delightful valley, in the bottom of which shines a pretty lake; and a little beyond, on the slope of a green hill, rises a splendid house, surrounded by a park well wooded and stocked with deer. You have now topped the little hill above the village, and a straight line of level road, a mile long, goes forward

to a country town, which lies immediately between that white church, with its spire cutting into the sky before you. You descend on the other side, and, having advanced a few perches, look to the left, where you see a long thatched chapel, only distinguished from a dwelling-house by its want of chimneys, and a small stone cross that stands on the top of the eastern gable; behind it is a grave-yard, and beside it a snug public-house, well white-washed; then, to the right, you observe a door, apparently in the side of a clay bank, which rises considerably above the pavement of the road. What! you ask yourself, can this be a human habitation? But ere you have time to answer the question, a confused buzz of voices from within reaches your ear, and the appearance of a little gossoon, with a red close-cropped head and Milesian face, having in his hand a short white stick, or the thigh bone of a horse, which you at once recognise as the 'pass' of the village school, gives you the full information. He has an ink-horn, covered with leather, dangling at the button-hole (for he has long since played away the buttons) of his frieze jacket— his mouth is circumscribed with a streak of ink-his pen is stuck knowingly behind his ear-his shins are dotted over with fire-blisters, black, red, and blueon each heel a kibe-his 'leather crackers,' or breeches, shrunk up upon him, and only reaching as far down as the caps of his knees. Having spied you, he places his hand over his brows, to throw back the dazzling light of the sun, and peers at you from under it, till he breaks ont into a laugh, exclaiming, half to himself, half to you—

"You a gentleman!-no, nor one of your breed

never was

You are now immediately opposite the door of the

seminary, when half a dozen of those seated next it notice you.

"Oh, sir, here's a gintleman on a horse!—murther, sir, here's a gintleman on a horse, wid boots and spurs on him, that's looking in at us.”

"Silence!" exclaims the master; "back from the door-boys, rehearse-every one of you rehearse, I say, you Boeotians, till the gintleman goes past!" "I want to go out, if you please, sir."

66

No, you don't Phelim."

"I do, indeed, sir.”

"What! is it afther contradictin' me you'd be? Don't you see the 'porter's' out, and you can't go." "Well, 'tis Mat Meehan has it, sir; and he's out this half hour, sir; I can't stay in, sir."

"You want to be idling your time looking at the gintleman, Phelim."

“No, indeed, sir.”

Phelim, I knows you of ould-go to your sate. I tell you, Phelim, you were born for the encouragement of the hemp manufacture, and you'll die promoting it."

In the mean time the master puts his head out of the door, his body stooped to a "half bend"-a phrase, and the exact curve which it forms, I leave for the present to your sagacity-and surveys you until you pass. This is an Irish hedge-school, and the personage who follows you with his eye a hedgeschoolmaster.

HOME AND CLASS WORK.

Learn the spellings at the top of the page; and write sentences containing these words.

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we stedfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow.

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun,
That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory!-WOLFE.

Who is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed in a robe of light green? She has a garland of flowers on her head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot. The snow which covered the fields, and the ice which was in the rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them. The young lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble in their throats to welcome her coming; and when they see her, they begin to choose their mates and build their nests. Youths and maidens, have you seen this beautiful virgin? If you have, tell me who is she, and what is her name.

Who is it that comes from the south, thinly clad in a light transparent garment? Her breath is hot and sultry; she seeks the refreshment of the cool shade; she seeks the clear streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her languid limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from her, and are dried up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with berries, and the grateful acid of fruits; the seedy melon, the sharp apple, and the red pulp of the juicy cherry, which are poured out plentifully around her. The tanned haymakers welcome her coming, and the sheepshearer, who clips the fleeces of his flock with his sounding shears. When she comes, let me lie under the thick shade of a spreading beech tree;-let me walk with her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the grass;— let me wander with her in the soft twilight, when the