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CINDERELLA;

OR,

THE GLASS SLIPPER.

Tho brook that o'er its pebbly bed

So noisily doth go,
Is not so deep as the quiet stream,

With swift but silent flow.

The child that in the corner sits,

So patient and so shy,
May feel far more in its little heart

Than those who shout and cry.

If in the children's noisy throng

Such silent child should be,
O mother, tend it with double care,

And guard it carefully.

Your house may bold, in that little chair,

By the fireside sad and lone, An angel come to you unaware,

A jewel all unknown.

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O

NCE upon a time there lived, near a great city, a very

worthy gentleman, with a handsome amiable young lady—his wife. They loved each other tenderly, as married people should do; and they had not been wedded very long before there was a pretty little baby girl in the nursery; so both the parents were very happy. But their joy did not last long: the young mother fell ill of a fever, and died, while her child was still a dancing, crowing little baby, far too young to feel the loss of its kind parent. The poor husband was at first dreadfully grieved at his

but as time wore on his sorrow became less violent, and when two years had passed away he began to feel very lonely in his great house. This set him upon thinking of another wife ; and at last he made up his mind to marry again.

Unhappily, the choice the gentleman made this time was not a good one. The lady whom he now married was proud, haughty, and deceitful. She had a very bad habit of always wanting her own way; and as the husband was a good-natured, easy kind of man, she usually contrived to get it.

loss;

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