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We'll rest us on the

grass, We'll upward turn our face; We'll lock his heat within our arms,

Our arms in fond embrace.
We'll give him a sad parting tear

When he is sinking low;
For his kind looks are the only looks

Of kindness that we know.

We'll tell him all our sorrows, Tom;

We'll tell him all our care ; We'll tell him where we sleep at night;

We'll tell him how we fare;
And then, O, then to cheer us

How sweetly he will glow!
For his kind looks are the only looks

Of kindness that we know.

Ex. 52. — A LITTLE GIRL.


LITTLE girl I am indeed,

And little do I know,
Much help and care I yet shall need,

That I may wiser grow,
If I would ever hope to do
Things great, and good, and useful too.

But even now I ought to try

To do what good I may ;
God never meant that such as I

Should only live to play,
And talk and laugh, and eat and drink,
And sleep and wake, and never think.

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THERE was a big Policeman, and he had a wooden


And if he came to ask for you, I am sure you would not

laugh; But if he said “You come with me, and bid your

friends good by," I think you'd take your handkerchief and have a hearty


Now when our Johnny lost himself this big Policeman

came, And, stooping to the little boy, says, “Tell me what's

your name. Where do you live, my little man ? and whither would

you roam ? " My name is little Johnny, sir, and, please, I live at


Now this Policeman, big and strong, was gentle, bold,

and brave; And very

kind indeed was he the little boy to save. So, lifting Johnny in his arms, he told him not to cry, And he took him to the station-house to wait till by and


Now when the mother missed her boy she ran I don't

know where; She asked for little Johnny here, and she hunted for him

there, But she asked and hunted all in vain till the Policeman

came his round; “Go to the station-house," says he, “and you 'll find

him safe and sound.”

So to the station-house she ran, to see her wandering boy, And when she saw him safe and sound she almost cried

for joy.

And she thanked the kind Policeman there, because her

boy was found, And she thanked the big Policeman that had kept him

safe and sound.

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Whatever work comes to your hand,

At home or at your school,
Do you your best with right good will;

It is a golden rule.

Still do your best, if but at taw

You join the merry ring;
Or if you play at battledoor,

Or if you skip or sing ;

Or if you write your copy-book,

Or if you read or spell,
Or if you seam, or hem, or knit,

Be sure you do it well.

For he who always does his best,

His best will better grow; But he who shirks or slights his task,

He lets the better go.

What if your lesson should be hard,

You need not yield to sorrow; For him who bravely works to-day

His task grows light to-morrow.


N every land and continent,

Good people, bear in mind How much is said about the rights

Of men and womenkind; And though we ’re present everywhere,

And make a deal of noise, There's very little said about

The rights of girls and boys.

We want the right to use our eyes

And take in every sight,
To see, compare, and measure facts,

The length and breadth and height. We want the right to use our tongues,

And keep them busy, too,
In asking questions every day,

And have them answered true.

When we


wrong, we want the right
To claim a day of grace,
A household jury, if you will,

To sit upon our case, –
And not be punished for our faults

With sudden words and blows,
Enough to drive the goodness out

Through fingers and through toes.

We want to be respected, too,

And not be snubbed outright,
And put off with a careless word,

Because we're small and slight.
And when we take the Ship of State,

And throw by childish toys,
We'll make a law to regulate

The rights of girls and boys!

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ALE and weary, strangely old,

Wan with hunger, numb with cold, Clothed in rags around it rolled,

Was this poor beggar baby.

Careless travellers going by
Walked around, lest, coming nigh,
They might hear the hungry cry

Of this poor beggar baby.

Rich men passed, and thought within, “'T were well that life had never been”; As though misfortune were a sin

For a poor beggar baby.

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