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There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childish tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.

3. The blessed homes of England !

How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from Sabbath hours ! Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bells' chime

Floats through their woods at morn; All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.

4. The cottage homes of England !

By thousands on her plains, They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,

And round the hamlet fanes. Through glowing orchards forth they peep,

Each from its nook of leaves; And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the birds beneath their eaves.

5. The free, fair homes of England !

Long, long in hut and hall
May hearts of native proof be reared

To guard each hallowed wall !
And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its country and its God!

An.ces-tral, old, belonging to

former times and people.
Chime, ring, sound.
Groves, woods.

Hal-lowed, holy.
Nook, corner,
Sod, piece of earth.
State ly, grand looking.

1. A little girl on a little bench

By a little window stood,
And a little trouble was in her heart-

“Ah! if I were but good !”

2. “Not very, very good,” she thought,

“Like dear Cousin Jane who died ; But only patient, true and kind,

And free from wicked pride.

3. “I'll


for that at first,” she said.
“Our Father will help me try;
And then, perhaps, He will show the way

To be very good by-and-bye.”

4. Then upward rose the little prayer ;

So earnestly it went,
That the little heart of the little maid

Was filled with a sweet content.

5. And, standing there on the little bench,

She looked up into the sky:
"I'll try to be good right off,” she said,

“And better yet by-and-bye.” Con-tent', calmness of mind and Pa'tient, not murmuring, but heart.

content under trouble. Cous'-in, the son or daughter of Pride, thinking too highly of an uncle or aunt.

one's self.

1. Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,

And hear a helpless orphan's tale!
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake-

'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.

I. R. III.


2. Yet I was once a mother's pride,

And my brave father's hope and joy; But in the Nile's proud fight he died

And I am now an orphan boy!

3. Poor foolish child-how pleased was I,

When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly,

And see the lighted windows flame!

4. To force me home my mother sought,

She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought--

And made me a poor orphan boy.

5. The people's shouts were long and loud;

My mother, shuddering, closed her ears; “Rejoice! rejoice!” still cried the crowd, -

My mother answered with her tears.

6. “Why are you crying so,” said I,

“While others laugh and shout for joy ?” She kissed me, and with such a sigh,

She called me her poor orphan boy!

7. " What is an orphan boy?" I said,

When suddenly she gasped for breath, And her eyes closed-1 shrieked for aid,

But, ah! her eyes were closed in death!

8. My hardships since I will not tell;

But now no more a parent's joy, Ah! lady, I have learned too well

What 'tis to be an orphan boy!

Nile's proud fight, battle of the Nile, fought in 1798.

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2. Many things seem hard at first,

And first attempts may be the worst.

3. But nothing that has merit in it

Can be done in one short minute. 4. This is as true of boys as men;

So weary not, but TRY AGAIN.

5. All of us have need to mend

Much, before we reach the end.

6. And none are ever like to win,

Who tire before they well begin. 7. Knowledge comes not without learning,

Nor wages, until first the earning. 8. Never mind your trouble, then ;

But persevere, and Try Again.

9. No earnest effort is in vain

To one who tries, and Tries Again.

10. Try again, and so you may

Grow wiser, better, every day.
11. Fast the precious hours are flying,

Spend them well in DOING, TRYING.

At-tempt', trial.
Earn-ing, winning, making.

Per-se-vere', go on trying.
Pre-cious, of great value.

1. I love the sunshine everywhere,-

In wood, and field, and glen ;
I love it in the busy haunts

Of town-imprisoned men.

2. I love it when it streameth in

The humble cottage door,
And casts the chequered casement shade

Upon the red-brick floor.

3. I love it where the children lie

Deep in the clovery grass,
To watch among the twining roots,

The gold-green beetle pass.

4. I love it on the breezy sea,

To glance on sail and oar,
While the great waves, like molten glass,

Come leaping to the shore.

5. I love it on the mountain-tops,

Where lies the thawless snow;
And half a kingdom, bathed in light,

Lies stretching out below.

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