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That man is fa-mous for the hard la-bour he en-dured when in a for-eign land.

The king has left for his do-min-ions in the west; he set off with much splen-dour and dis-play. The o-dour of this plant is ver-y strong and disa-gree-able.

The earth is man-y mill-ions of miles dis-tant from the sun.

That man la-bours hard; he earns his bread by the sweat of his brow.

Jane seems ner-vous and vexed; all her for-mer vig-our seems to have gone.

The man in the par-lour is ver-y pomp-ous and seems to fa-vour no one but him-self.

The ships have all ar-rived in the har-bour; not one of them has been in-jured by the storm. Tell your com-pan-ion to come to the par-lour, and we will try to puz-zle him with the quest-ion that puz-zled James.

Cork is a po-rous sub-stance, and floats up-on the sur-face of the wa-ter.

The wings of a bird are some-times called its pin-ions.

The men were full of ar-dour, and made a great clam-our at the pros-pect of suc-cess.

Jane tried to count a bill-ion, but failed be-fore she had reached five mill-ions.

These men dis-played much val-our, and when the ru-mour spread that suc-cour was at hand, they fought with still more vig-our, and gained an en-trance to the castle.

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a youth was shown in. He was a-bout seven-teen years of age; his coat was made of coarse cloth, and he wore thick, heav-y shoes on his feet. An old felt hat, in rags at the edge, was on his head, and sat up-on a mass of hair that had not been combed out, and hung round a dark and sun-burnt face. The eyes of the boy were quick and bright; but an-y one might see at once that he had on-ly been taught to plough, or some hard and rough work. The pres-i-dent was a kind old man, and asked what he came for?

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'If you please, sir," said the plough-boy, who was slow of speech, "I want to learn what is in books. I heard you had a col-lege here to teach in; and I thought, if I could do a bit of work for you, may be, now and then, you would help me to get some learn-ing."

"Well, my young friend, but I see no work that you can do for us; and what you ask is ver-y strange."

"But I can bring wa-ter, cut wood, or black shoes, said the boy. "I want to learn out of books. I want to make some-thing of my-self. I don't care how hard I work, if I could but get to learn."

He could use no more words; but his looks were very ea-ger, and he was out of breath from an-xi-e-ty to gain what he came to ask for. The pres-i-dent felt this; but, to be quite sure of it, he thought right to try the boy, and judge of his truth.

"I fear, my friend, there is noth-ing I can do for you; nor can I find an-y-thing to be done for

us."

The pres-i-dent then took up his own book. He looked at the plough-boy, who stood there and did not speak a-gain, though he still held the han-dle of the door. His rough hat was in one hand, his eyes were cast down up-on the ground, his lips moved, but with-out an-y sound, and there was in his face the look of deep, strong grief, and no hope. It was too much for him. A tear fell down the sun-burnt cheek; his hand, so hard with toil, was quick to brush off this sign of grief. He tried to make a bow and go a-way. As he set one foot be-yond the door the pres-i-dent spoke, to stop and call him back. The plough-boy was

made shoe-black to the col-lege.

Years pass by, and we hear of a new and grand church, where ev-er-y seat is full, and man-y are glad if they may stand to listen. Not a sound is heard in that crowd-ed place, ex-cept the voice of one speak-er. He is a man a-bout for-ty. All strive to go near him; for they feel that few can teach as he does, from the Ho-ly Book which shows us how to live in peace, and to die with-out fear. Who in all that throng would know a-gain the poor shoe-black, who is now pres-i-dent of the col-lege where he first sought to learn, and "make some-thing of him-self?"

THE CHESTNUTS.

ex-ces-sive-ly ex-ses-sēve-lē

dis-cov-ered

Crompton.

dis-kuv'-ĕrd

im-me-di-ate im-me'-dē-āte hap-pi-ly hǎp'-pē-lē

mon-ey

busi-ness

mun'-ē

biz'-něss

suf-ficed suf-fist
gree-di-ness gree'-dē-ness

AL-BERT was an ex-ces-sive-ly gree-dy lit-tle boy. As soon as he got an-y mon-ey, he im-me-di-ate-ly spent it in fruits or sweet-meats. One day he saw some chest-nuts in the mar-ket. Nev-er hav-ing seen an-y-thing of the sort be-fore, he asked the deal-er if his brown fruits were good

to eat.

"Do you mean those chest-nuts?" said the man; “I should think they are. I can rec-ommend them to you with con-fid-ence, my young gen-tle-man. They are beau-ti-ful when roast-ed on the cin-ders."

Al-bert, who had al-read-y spent what mon-ey he had on oth-er fruits, took se-cret-ly a hand-ful of the chest-nuts, and put them in his pock-et with-out be-ing dis-cov-ered.

When he re-turned home, his first busi-ness was to go in-to the kitch-en; and find-ing no one there, he placed the chest-nuts in a cor-ner of the hearth, and cov-ered them with hot cin-ders. The heat soon be-gan to make them hiss. The noise pleased him, and to hasten their roast-ing, he placed more hot coals up-on them, and be-gan to blow them with all the strength of his lungs.

All at once a chest-nut burst with a loud re-port. The cin-ders jumped out on his face with such force, that he thought his eyes were put out; and he ran hith-er and thith-er, cry-ing like a blind person. The noise of the ex-plo-ded chest-nuts and the cries of the boy, caused all the in-hab-itants of the house to run to the kitch-en, and thus his theft was dis-cov-ered. He had to suf-fer un-speak-a-ble ag-o-nies be-fore his eyes were com-plete-ly cured. Hap-pi-ly for him, he repent-ed bit-ter-ly and sin-cere-ly on ac-count of his wick-ed con-duct. This one lesson suf-ficed to cor-rect him for ev-er; and ev-er-y time that his gree-di-ness tempt-ed him a-gain, he re-peated to him-self these lines,

"Our evil deeds bring on us shame,
'Tis well if we be-wail the same."

Schmid.

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