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Say, teacher, have you seen Vacation,

With a smile upon her face?
She has come to bring you recreation;

She is lingering round the place.

Of course you love the young

idea To be teaching how to shoot ; But a look from you when she draws near,

Says, “That's the idea to suit."

Say, parents, have you seen Vacation ?

Soon she comes to meet you; We've the happiest home in all creation;

We will make her welcome too.

Of course we're glad to give you pleasure,

But our lessons now are done, And we hope you 'll give us fullest measure

Of Vacation's sport and fun.

Ex. 63. – OUR SCHOOL.

THE

and more;

VE primary school, with joy so full,

We love it more
Its precious hours refresh our powers

With strength unknown before.
Her truths from purest fountains brought,

And Wisdom's bright examples taught, We are taught to read, to write and spell,

And do the parts assigned us well.

Our teacher true, we turn to you,

A guide beloved and kind;
In youth and age on memory's page

Our thanks shall stand enshrined,

And when mid life's gay scenes we stray,
Where duties call, where passions play,
Your counsels wise shall ever rise,

Like guards around the mind.

Committee kind, we're ever pleased

To hear your gladsome voice,
And fondly cling to truths you bring ;

They make our hearts rejoice.
And when our youthful days are past,

And years have each a lesson taught,
We'll still remember, here in school,

A cheering word you ever brought.

Ex. 64. — THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT.

- Lear

THE

HE Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green

boat.
They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a greenback note.* The Owl looked up to the moon above,

And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy ! O Pussy, my love!
What a beautiful Pussy you are -

You are.
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, “ You elegant fowl!

How wonderful sweet you sing !
O, let us be married, — too long we have tarried, -

But what shall we do for a ring ?”
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,

* In the original, “Five-pound note."

And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood
With a ring in the end of his nose

His nose
With a ring in the end of his nose.

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring ?” Said the Piggy, “I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day

By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon -

The moon
They danced by the light of the moon.

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I

THINK, when I read that sweet story of old,

When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children as lambs to his fold,

I should like to have been with them then.

I wish that his hand had been placed on my head,

That his arm had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look when he said,

“Let the little ones come unto me.”

But still to his footstool in prayer I may go,

And ask for a share in his love;
And if I thus earnestly seek him below,

I shall see him and hear him above.

* A pretty piece for a little girl to repeat.

In that beautiful place he has gone to prepare

For all that are washed and forgiven;
And many dear children are gathering there,

“For of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

Ex. 66.

- THE SAILOR'S GRAVE.

Eliza Cook.

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UR bark was out far, far from the land,

When the fairest of our gallant band Grew sadly pale, and waned away, Like the twilight of an autumn day. We watched him through long hours of pain ; But our cares were lost, our hopes were vain. Death brought for him no coward alarm, For he smiled as he died in a messmate's arms.

He had no costly winding-sheet,
But we placed a round shot at his feet:
And he slept in his hammock as safe and sound
As a king in his lawn shroud, marble-bound.
We proudly decked his funeral rest
With the British flag about his breast;
We gave him that as a badge of the brave,
And then he was fit for his sailor's

grave.

Our voices broke our hearts turned weak Hot tears were seen on the brownest cheek And a quiver played on the lips of pride, As we lowered him down the ship's dark side. A plunge - a splash — and our task was o'er : The billows rolled as they rolled before; And many a rude prayer

hallowed the wave That closed above the sailor's grave.

Ex. 67.- THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER. — Goldsmith.

ESIDE yon straggling fence that skirts the way,

With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper circling round Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault. The village all declared how much he knew, 'T was certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, storms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge ; In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew.

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