ny was o-bliged to work so much the more, that her moth'-er might some'-times have a lit'-tle rest, and a good meal to strengthen her. The moth'-er be-came' at last quite ill, and lay al'-ways in bed, and could do noth'-ing. Fan'ny nursed her with the great'-est care, and if it ev-er happened, that, from great pain, she was cross or im-pa'-tient, she bore it with the great'-est good na'-ture; she fetched her things to make her well, and often sat up all the night to work for mon'-ey, and to watch and nurse her moth'-er. At last Fan'-ny's moth'-er became' so bad, and want'-ed so much nursing that Fan-ny had no time to knit or spin, but she took the best of her clothes and sold them. She was ver'-y sor'-ry to let them go, but this good girl knew that it was her du'-ty to take care of her poor moth'-er, when she was ill and had no bod'-y else to keep her. Ev'-er-y one who knew Fan'-ny was sur-prised' that such a child could bear so much, and with so much

pa'-tience for she was al'-ways good na'-tured and nev/-er com-plained' to an'-y bod'-y.

Soon after Fan'-ny's moth'-er died, and man'-y persons who had seen her good'-ness would have taken her for a ser'-vant; for they said they were sure she must be ver'-y good in ev'-er-y thing, be-cause' she had been so good to her moth'-er. There was near to the place where Fan'-ny had lived, a very rich la'-dy, who had watched, for a long time, and had seen all her good'-ness; but had nev'-er said an'-y thing to an'-y one. This la'-dy, now that Fan'-ny was with-out' a moth'-er, or an'-y friend, said she should be no one's ser'-vant; but should come and live in her house, and be kept like her own child: and Fan'-ny went and lived in the house of this good la'-dy. When the la'-dy died, she left all her mon'-ey, and her clothes, and her house, and ev'-er-y thing that she had, to Fan-ny. Fan'-ny often used to re-mem'-ber the time when she was

6-bliged to sit and knit and spin, from mor'ning to night; and she spent a great deal of her wealth in help'-ing and re-ward'-ing good chil'-dren.

EXCEPTIONS.

E-nough' John busi'-ness won'-der spe'-cies coun'-try dirt sup-port' sir cov'-ered Britain sport path an-kle month oh wor'-shipped demand'-ed re-cov′-er-y dis-cov/-ered con-ceived' hu'-mour ei'-ther com'-fort.

INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.

James, thōugh on'-ly six years old, loved go'-ing to school. When his moth'-er a-woke' him in the mor'-ning, he a-rose' in'-stant-ly, and then washed and combed him-self'. While at school he kept qui'-et-ly in his place, and paid at-ten'-tion to all that the mas'-ter said: when he asked him a quest'-ion, he re-plied' mod'-est-ly, but in a voice loud e-nough' to be

heard dis-tinct'-ly, and al'-ways looked at him while he spoke. So good a boy could not fail to please his mas'-ter, who took de-light' in teach'-ing him, and he ver'-y soon learned to read; for he took pains with what-ev'-er he applied' to. James was be-loved' by all his school'fel-lows, and ev'-er-y one wished to be-come' like him.

John, on the con'-tra-ry, al'-ways cried when he was sent to school, and was gen'-er-al-ly there too late in the mor'-ning, and afʼ-ter all the oth'-er boys. When an'-y of the boys were read'-ing, in-stĕad' of pay'-ing at-ten'-tion to it, he would be sta'-ring a-bout' here and there, or talk'-ing to those who were mind'-ing their busi'-ness, and so in-ter-rupt' them that they could hard'-ly go on. When his mas'-ter was

ex-plain'-ing an'-y thing that might have instruct'-ed him, he nev'-er listened to it, and thus lost all the ben'-e-fit his kind pa-rents intend'-ed him when they put him to school.

No won'-der that John was dis-liked' and shunned by his com-pan'-ions, and that he remained' ig'-no-rant and i'-dle all his life.

OF MARTINS AND SWALLOWS.

There are four spe'-cies of the swal'-lōw kind known in this coun'-try :-the house mar'-tin, the swal'-low, the swift, and the bank mar'-tin, each of which has hab'-its pe-cu-li-ar to itself'. The swal'-low is the first that makes its ap-pear-ance in spring. It may be known from the oth'-er spe'-cies, by the length and fork'-ed-ness of its tail. It fre'-quent-ly builds in chim'-neys, five or six feet from the top; no doubt, for the sake of warmth. The nest of the swal'-low con-sists' of a shell com-posed' of dirt, mixed with short pie'-ces of straw, and lined with fine grass and feath'-ers. Their food con-sists' of flies, gnats, and oth'-er in'sects; and they drink as they fly a-long', sip'ping the sur'-face of the wa'-ter. This lit'-tle

C