THE SHEEP, THE THORN-BUSHES, AND THE in dif'fer.ent, BIRDS (2). op.por.tu'ni.ty, im.med'iately, nec'es.sar.y, in'stru ment, ex-pe-di'tion, mul'ti-tude, ven'geance, in'no.cent, con.ve'nience, pres-er-va'tion, con'quest, in hab'it-ant. The cheerful lark had hardly begun to proclaim the approach of morning, when Gregory got up and ran to awaken his papa. Though Mr Stanhope was very indifferent concerning the fate of the thorn-bushes, yet he was not displeased to have the opportunity of shewing to his little Gregory the beauties of the rising sun. They both dressed themselves immediately, took the necessary instruments, and set out on this important expedition. Young Gregory marched forward with such hasty steps, that Mr Stanhope was obliged to exert himself to avoid being left behind. When they came near the bushes, they observed a multitude of little birds flying in and out of them, and fluttering their wings from branch to branch. On seeing this, Mr Stanhope stopped his son, and desired him to suspend his vengeance a little time, that they might not disturb those innocent birds. With this view, they retired to the foot of the hill where they had sat the preceding evening, and examined more particularly what had occasioned this apparent bustle among the birds. They plainly saw that the birds were employed in carrying away those bits of wool in their beaks which the bushes had torn from the sheep the evening before. There came a multitude of different sorts of birds, who loaded themselves with the plunder. Gregory was quite astonished at this sight, and asked his рара what could be the meaning of it. 'You by this plainly see,' replied Mr Stanhope, 'that Providence provides for creatures of every class, and furnishes them with all things necessary for their convenience and preservation. Here, you see, the poor birds find what is necessary for their nests, wherein they are to nurse and rear their young, and with this they make a comfortable bed for themselves and their young ones. The thorn-bush, against which you yesterday so loudly exclaimed, is of great service to the inhabitants of the air; it takes from those that are rich only what they can very well spare, in order to satisfy the wants of the poor. Have you now any wish to cut those bushes down, which you will perhaps no longer consider as robbers?' Gregory shook his head, and said he would not cut the bushes down for the world. Mr Stanhope praised his son for so saying; and, after enjoying the sweets of the morning, they retired home to breakfast, leaving the bushes to flourish in peace, since they made so generous a use of their conquests. THE BOY AT THE CANAL DIKE. dis as'ter, at tempts', prop'er-ty, pa'tient-ly, approach', hero'ic, dan'ger ous, cler'gy man, po si'tion, be-numbed', as ton'ished, min'is-ter, threat'ened, pre-vent'ed. A little boy in Holland was on his way home, one night, from a village, to which he had been sent, by his mother, on an errand. As he walked along, he noticed that the water was trickling through a narrow opening in G the dike of a large canal. He stopped, and thought of the damage that might be done if the hole was not closed. He knew, for he had often heard his parents tell, that sad disasters had happened from beginnings quite as small as this. He knew that in a few hours the opening might become bigger and bigger, and let in the mass of waters pressing on the dike, until, the whole defence being washed away, the waters would sweep on to the next village, destroying life and property in their way. Should he run home, and alarm the folks of the village, it would be dark before they could arrive, and the hole might even then be so large that all attempts to close it would be in vain. Having thought thus, he seated himself on the bank of the canal, stopped the opening with his hand, and patiently waited the approach of some person. But no one came. Hour after hour rolled by, yet there sat the heroic boy, in the cold and the darkness, shivering, wet, and tired, but stoutly pressing his hand against the dangerous breach. All night he staid at his post. At last the morning broke. A clergyman, walking up by the canal, heard a groan, and looked round to see where it came from. 'Why are you here, my child?' he asked, seeing the boy, and surprised at his strange position. 'I am keeping back the water, sir, and saving the village from being drowned,' said the boy, with lips so benumbed with cold that he could hardly speak. The astonished minister relieved the boy. The dike was closed; and the danger which threatened hundreds of lives was prevented. At the call of duty, I hope you will all be as patient as the little boy at the dike in Holland. THE UNJUST SUSPICION. employed', or'na-ment, ap.pren'tice, per-sist'ed, chastised', de.served', dis.cov'er, sus-pect'ed. A goldsmith was employed to make a splendid ornament for a lady, and she gave him many precious stones to set in it. Robert, his apprentice, took great delight in one of these stones, which was clear and sparkling with various hues, and he often examined it. One day his master observed that two of the most beautiful stones were missing. Suspecting the apprentice, he searched his bedroom, and there found the jewels in a hole of the wall, behind an old chest. Robert firmly persisted that he had not taken the jewels; but his master chastised him severely, told him he deserved hanging, and turned him out of his place. On the next day another stone was missing, and the goldsmith found it in the same hole, and now took more pains to discover who concealed it there. He soon saw a thievish bird, called a magpie, which the apprentice had trained and tamed, perch on the working-table, take a stone in its beak, and carry it away to the hole. The goldsmith now felt heartily sorry that he had done an injury to the poor lad; he took him back again, from that time treated him very kindly, and never after suspected any one so lightly. THE MILLER OF THE DEE. There dwelt a miller hale and bold Beside the river Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night: No lark more blithe than he. And this the burden of his song For ever used to be: 'I envy nobody, no, not I, And nobody envies me!' 'Thou 'rt wrong, my friend,' said old King Hal, 'Thou 'rt wrong as wrong can be ; For could my heart be light as thine, And tell me now, what makes thee sing The miller smiled, and doffed his cap: I owe no penny I cannot pay, I thank the river Dee, That turns the mill that grinds the corn To feed my babes and me.' 'Good friend,' said Hal, and sighed the while, Farewell, and happy be; But say no more, if thou 'dst be true, That no man envies thee: Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, Thy mill my kingdom's fee; Such men as thou are England's boast, |